 
Emergence: Part 1

Chris Harris

Published by Chris Harris

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Chris Harris
Chapter 1

Deora 1

It threw her from her bed as it smashed through the bedroom wall.

Deora tried to shield herself from the flying chunks of brick and plaster, but fell as they rushed towards her. Head spinning, she tried checking herself over for bruises or scratches, and, through blurred eyes, noticed small patches of blood on her arms. Ears rang with a piercing whine. Her nose tickled, and her eyes burned; she wiped the plaster and brick-dust from her face and shook her head, trying to clear her vision.

When it cleared, she backed away, trying to find something to haul herself up with.

The ovoid that had crashed through her wall stood in the middle of her room, completely unscathed. Eyes wide, she stared at it in a mix of horror and fascination. Xaosian? She was almost certain she was right; the sleek darkness of it was reminiscent of their culture.

She grabbed a shelf and tried to pull herself up, but the shelf buckled and she fell again. The windowsill took her weight and she ran, footfalls drumming the ground.

A pneumatic hiss.

She turned as the ovoid opened; eight large humanoids stepped out. Noticing the black, blade-like plates making up their armour, the red twin parabola insignia on their breastplates, the claws and the serpentine faces, she knew her suspicions were right. All eight Xaosians held guns. Big guns. She ducked back behind the doorframe, hoping they hadn't seen her yet. They were speaking to one another, not in the Common tongue, but in a completely different language. Xarici?

She fled, barely keeping upright. The hallway was narrow enough to give her something to cling on to, and she used the walls well enough to keep her standing.

Gunshot.

She screamed.

She had tried to resist, she really had; she'd managed when they burst through her wall. Now, she may as well have lit a beacon. She rounded a corner, into the kitchen. Heavy footfalls followed. Nearly slipping on the cold kitchen tiles, she was just able to right herself until she made it to the dining room. Something shattered in the kitchen after another gunshot. Grabbing her keys from the table, she ran out of the dining room and towards her front door.

Her hands were shaking, and the keys just scratched around the lock. She looked behind, seeing shadows enter the room. Grabbing the key with both hands, she guided it to the lock and wrenched it open. A bullet slammed into as it opened, narrowly missing her head and forcing the door from her hand. She bit back the scream this time, and stared at the bullet-hole in shock.

She continued to run, slamming the door shut behind her; it would slow them down for all of two seconds, she was sure. The dark corridors of her apartment skyscraper gave her both an advantage and a disadvantage; they couldn't see her, but she couldn't see them. There were four corridors on this first floor, each leading out from the elevator, to a single apartment. She paused briefly; if she woke them, they could get out and possibly be safe from the invaders. If she didn't, they could be murdered, or the Xaosians might pass them by altogether. Heart pounding, she glanced down her corridor, but didn't see the Xaosians. Ignoring tense muscles, ignoring that fear that gripped them, she started towards her neighbour's corridor, but a bullet passed in front of her, splintering the wall next to her. She gasped and recoiled back, heart pounding.

Too late now.

She considered going further, she really did. But she knew, with a heavy heart, that she had to abandon them, or die. She turned, punching the elevator's "call" button, pounding it until the doors opened.

Large, shadowy things moved in the darkness, coming towards her, guns raised.

The elevator doors opened, the bulb inside lighting up the corridors. She ran inside, hugging the wall so they couldn't shoot her, and hammered the "down" button. The doors shut as a barrage of bullets smashed against the back of the elevator. She breathed a sigh of relief; even a brief reprieve from fleeing was better than none. Doubled over, she tried to catch her breath, but her heart was pounding too fast for her to get her breathing back to normal. Her hands couldn't stop shaking, and the cuts on her arm were bleeding even more now, tracing rivers on her skin. They stung slightly, like papercuts, but she didn't care about that right now.

She looked up abruptly as the top of the elevator buckled, one of the Xaosians had leapt down the elevator shaft. The doors opened. She ran, turning to look back at the elevator. A panel from the top was thrown out of the elevator, clattering to the floor. The Xaosian raised its weapon and shot at her three times. They all missed, shattering the glass in the doors behind her. She ran to the doors, jumping through the gap left behind by the broken windows.

The horror outside was worse.

Hordes of Xaosian troops stormed the streets of Raan, piling off of their huge Titan-Class ships, indiscriminately slaughtering Raanians. The unmistakable roars of small Reapers filled the air, but screams and cries for help almost drowned them out. Raanian Stingers pursued them, but the Reapers seemed to be more than a match. Bombing runs had turned the streets into twisting craters with sparks flying from the ground and geysers erupting from broken pipes.

Some Raanians tried to escape in their Autos. It might have succeeded had it not been for the Xaosian tanks; large as a house, these moved on giant barrels rather than caterpillar treads, enabling it to crush everything in its path. More of the ovoid pods were fired out of the airborne Titans, smashing into the skyscrapers. Some began to crumble as multiple pods hit them, tearing the structures apart.

The Xaosian was still following her. She considered running more, but it would only follow her until it got a clean shot. She rounded a corner, running a little bit further, before doubling back and waiting at the corner.

The Xaosian rounded the corner, and she pounced on it, taking it by surprise. It dropped the gun as she twisted its arm. She heard it grunt, before smashing an armoured fist into her temple, knocking her down. Her head exploded into a world of pain, and she could feel a warmth growing on the side of her head: blood; skin had been torn away by the jagged knuckles on its gauntlets.

She rolled out of the way of a kick, and dived for the abandoned gun. It was heavier than she'd expected; she'd never held one before. Her first shot missed, even with the kickback suppressors. The Xaosian kicked her in the ribs, and she heard something crack, before breathing became sharp and painful. The second shot hit the Xaosian in the chest, clipping the armour plating from below, and shearing it straight off. It stumbled back, and she jumped to her feet, and shot it twice more in the gap left by the sheared off armour. The Xaosian gasped; a death rattle, before it went down, chest covered in blood.

She stepped away from the corpse, arms going limp at her side; she barely kept hold of the gun, feeling it slip through open fingers. Hands shook, and knees threatened to buckle. She wiped her blood from her cheek. Breathing deeply to try and calm herself, she only felt pain from her cracked ribs, which were probably piercing a lung now. She coughed, and tasted copper. Her head span, the world span, and the ground threatened to come up to meet her.

From her skyscraper, she heard gunfire and screams. She sank to her knees and just stared straight ahead, mouth hanging open. I could have saved them. Self-loathing grew inside her, but her hatred for the Xaosians was stronger. She tightened her hold on her gun and got to her feet; she knew that, if she died, then their deaths were for nothing; she sacrificed them for herself.

Groaning.

A growing dread twisted her heart as she turned around to see the Xaosian she'd shot slowly stand back up. She stepped back, feeling the rage set in, but also confusion; I killed it. Hands stopped shaking, knees stood firm and she pumped the trigger, sending bullet after bullet into the Xaosian. Most bullets did nothing but dent the armour; she couldn't get the right angle on it again. I killed it. It darted towards her, running with a wild beast's speed. She aimed carefully at shot at its head. The helmet's visor cracked, and the Xaosian flinched, slowing it down briefly, before it lunged for her, grabbing the gun. She fought with it, pumping the trigger. The crack in the visor spread until it shattered. With a roar, the Xaosian grabbed the gun, shoving the barrel away from its face. She tried to fight back, push back, but for all her strength, the brute was too strong; she felt like her arms were about to snap.

But I killed it?

It kicked her in the stomach, throwing her back and wrenching the gun from her hands. She stumbled back, winded; it hurt even more to breathe now. Vision clouded with a red mist, and her last few seconds were filled with pain, confusion and regret. A lone tear mixed with the blood on her face.

A bullet went through her skull.

Chapter 2

Trexor 1

Trexor clenched his fists, staring at the horror outside via the huge array of screens. He watched hundreds – if not thousands – of Xaosian troops make barricades on the Military-Bridge from the debris that their Crushers, which remained to the sides of the barricade, had created. All around, buildings crumbled, their grey bricks falling from sky; this was a hard rain. Another screen showed him a view from Raan's orbit, where the Orbital Defence System (ODS) was in tatters, open circuitry and explosive pods suspended in the desolate vacuum. The Raanian Stinger-Class Aerospace-Fighters darted back and forth in a dreadful, almost ominous, silence. When the larger Xaosian ships fired upon them, they exploded in equal silence and when the ship was destroyed, the pilot's suit was ruptured and he asphyxiated in a deathly silence.

In the midst of the clash between Reapers and Stingers was a much larger ship.

The Dominion was a behemoth; a monstrous feat in Aerospace engineering, this ship fired upon what remained of Raan's ODS with the power of the Solus itself; inspired by the Adjeti World-Burner, The Dominion was able to convert light and heat into a laser-like weapon of mass destruction. Trexor watched the laser obliterate an Orbital Cannon, shattering it into jagged, blackened shards that joined its brothers in a floating grave.

As Trexor turned away from the screens, his eyes fell on a man on a stretcher, injured on the Bridge as the Xaosians first moved in. His right leg was stripped of skin, to the bone in some areas. Trexor could make out the pulsing arteries that spewed out spurts of blood like a half-empty bottle. In the few areas where dark pink muscle was still attached to bone, it was lacerated and burnt. But it wasn't just the man's leg that was injured; a chunk of his left cheek was missing, sheared off by flying shrapnel. In his younger years, Trexor may have retched at the very sight, but instead his nose wrinkled in disgust; he had seen worse injuries whilst patrolling the Northernmost parts of Tapal.

"Trexor!"

Trexor turned to see Admiral Fairns walking towards him. "Admiral." Trexor responded, bowing his head briefly.

"We need you ext there." The Admiral said. "Ext on the front lines."

"And you would send us all to our deaths, sir." Trexor replied, as bluntly as the Admiral had spoken.

The Admiral grimaced. "Then what would you suggest?"

"Get teams on the ground throughout Tapal. My team will protect this base and storm the bridge. I'll need cover from teams of snipers from the windows on the eighth, ninth and tenth floors and a barrage of cover fire from a lower floor; the fourth should work the best. Teams on the ground throughout Tapal." Trexor said quickly; he had already thought this through, "Get the Stingers to distract and take down the Crushers in both the city and the two on the bridge."

The Admiral mulled this over. "This seems viable. Get your team ready, I'll sort the rest."

Trexor bowed his head again as the Admiral turned and walked away, speaking into his Communicator. "Idiot..." Trexor muttered.

No-one turned from the screens as Trexor walked by, the horrific images displayed both captivating and terrifying them. United in their silence, they gazed with wide eyes, most of them barely older than boys. Trexor shook his head; this was not right. He scanned the computer bays until he found what he was looking for.

"Tya?" Trexor approached the ODS monitoring station. "Where is Officer Amei?"

Tya was a very attractive woman, Trexor usually noticed. This time, the notion didn't come to him. Not because she was less attractive, but simply because he was scared. He could feel a vein pulsing in his neck, and his shoulders had tensed up, pulling on the scar tissue on his back.

"Amei is injured, I'm afraid." Tya gestured to the medical bay. She lowered her voice. "Fairns sent him out there; stabbed in the stomach with a vibro-blade. Messy." She rubbed her face; Trexor had identified this as a nervous tick years ago. "What do you need, General?"

"I just need one of the Orbital Cannons freed up for me." Trexor sounded desperate; he knew it sounded desperate, but he wasn't entirely sure if it was real or just a façade. "I intend to push the Xaosians back, away from here. I may need assistance."

Tya grimaced. "I don't think that's wise." She pointed at the screens in front of her. "There are only four cannons still online, and only seventeen percent of the shield and defender satellites remain. We can't even contact the Viran right now. I can't give you any of that, I'm sorry General."

"I'm not saying turn them off." Trexor could feel a tingle in his hands and cramps around his stomach. "Just...reprogram the co-ordinates quickly when I ask. Or, I don't know, input them now, and switch channels later."

"You haven't told me where to target on the ground." Tya's voice grew louder, almost a shout. "I can target the edge of the bridge, if that's what you want, but I'm only giving it one quick burst; that's all we can really afford, or else more troops and ships can make it to the surface."

Trexor drew a breath; it seemed he'd been holding it for hours. "Thank you."

Tya dismissed his thanks. "Resume duty, General."

Trexor bowed his head. "As so, Officer."

There was a group of men – no, just kids, boys – near the the weapons bay, who turned to Trexor as he arrived. He surveyed them; there was probably but no more than a hundred of them; a rag-tag army of fresh-faced kids who had no place on a battlefield. All of their armours had pockmarks, dents and holes in, and Trexor could see wounds ranging from cuts and bruises, to a full bloody gash lining one man's face. "General Trexor, sir." Another General – Reinf, he thought – acknowledged his arrival. The others soon followed suit, their voices wavering. Trexor sensed the fear emanating from them.

"Men. You have been chosen for this task because you are all we've got. I'm not going to sugar-coat this and say that you're the best, because you're probably not." Trexor noticed that some of the men exchanged looks at this, but he continued anyway. "That aside, you are the last line of defence for this city. We are the last line. You may be scared right now, and you should be. The Xaosians ext there want you dead. Their machines want you dead. Their entire planet wants you to die. Hell, even Admiral Fairns was prepared to send us on a suicide mission. But I said no! Our planet needs more men, men like you. You may not be the best, but you are determined. You are still here, unlike the ones who fled earlier. Today, you fight for your planet, your family, your friends. But most of all, fight for yourselves. Fight for your lives until you are kicking and screaming. If you flee, you're likely to end up dead in a ditch, dishonoured. If you stay and fight with me, and we win, your rewards will be unparalleled." The men exchanged looks, which Trexor read as more hopeful than before. It was time. "Let's kill them before they can kill us!" The men raised their weapons and cheered.

Trexor grabbed the General's Sword of Rank – just a larger vibro-blade – and a standard issue assault rifle, before signalling one of the men to open the doors. "Let's do this." he muttered whilst putting a helmet on, more to himself than to the others.

The doors opened.

Fire flew from the sky as Stingers targeted and fired upon the Crushers and Xaosians. Reapers closed in on the Stingers. One of the Crushers exploded. The other Crusher turned its turret and fired upon the Stingers. Most of the shots missed, but a lucky few hit, sending Stingers spiralling down before gouging a gash in the planet itself, or simply shattering it into an airborne oblivion. One exploded above the Bridge, sending shrapnel flying around Trexor and his men. Xaosian troops began to drop dead suddenly, not because of the Stingers, but the snipers in the base. A barrage of firepower shot from above, cracking Xaosian armour, and hurting Trexor's ears. Still one Crusher remained.

More Stingers fired upon the Crusher, drowning it in flames and smoke yet causing no significant damage to the behemoth itself. The barrage from above struck the Crusher, but ordinary bullets would never have pierced its armour. Titan Troop Carriers joined the battle now, the larger Xaosian ships opening fire on the Stingers. Stingers fell, before some veered off and returned fire on the Titan's. Another barrage of missiles fell upon the Crusher. It moved to the side, towards the edge of the bridge, firing still on the Stingers. But the pilots now targeted the barrels that the Crusher moved on, taking out the secondary turrets around them. The rocket fire and explosions deafened Trexor, but it pushed the Crusher back slowly.

Until it fell.

The Crusher was defeated by it's own back-heavy design, the weight of which dragged it down into the abyss below; the base was built over a pit, meaning there was only one way in, one way out via the bridge, making it easier to defend. Both Crushers were down now, and many of the Xaosians were injured, or had cracked armour.

"Go!" Trexor roared, pointing his sword forward.

With the Xaosian's barricades left in tatters, they had little defence from Trexor's charge and the barrages from above. Trexor took aim quickly, loosing a few quick shots at the Xaosians. The head-shots shattered their helmet's visors, and a following shot dropped them quickly, but the body-shots only forced them back, denting their armour.

Trexor broke into the Xaosian ranks, wielding his sword. He slashed blindly at the Xaosians, whilst taking aiming carefully with the gun in his other hand. The sword's micro vibrations carved through the armour, it's impact-resistant material almost useless against it. Bullets pierced his armour when they hit. Trexor felt another bullet hit his thigh, penetrating the armour. He grunted as it hit, the armour only slowing it slightly. Pain beyond agony. He stumbled, but he steeled himself, grit his teeth and continued; he'd suffered worse.

The others had joined him now, using their standard-issue vibro-blades to carve their way through. But the element of surprise had worn off by now, and the Xaosians were drawing their own blades. Out of the corner of his eye, Trexor saw Reinf take a knife to the stomach, blood and gore spilling out. Trexor shot the Xaosian in the foot, before cleaving off his head. A bullet smashed against Trexor's helmet, cracking the reinforced glass. But it was only a glancing shot, and another man returned fire, catching the Xaosian in the throat. The Xaosian clutched at its throat, dropping its weapons before collapsing to its knees.

"Retreat!" Trexor heard someone yell; a Xaosian. They began to back away from Trexor's group, still firing as they did so. Trexor's men still fired upon them until the Xaosians were off the bridge. Trexor fumbled with his com, his hands shaking, before he yelled. "Now, Tya!"

Fire rained down from the sky as she activated the Orbital Cannons.
Chapter 3

Strom 2

Strom watched as the Xaosians fled from the Bridge. They seemed to stop at the edge of it; presumably to regroup, before trying to take it again. The Crusher near him began to move over there and had just reached the other when the sky glowed orange.

An orange beam, wider than even the Military-base struck the ground where the Xaosian's rested. It took Strom a moment to figure out what it was; an Orbital Cannon strike. Strom had never seen one before, but he had read about the test firing of the long-destroyed Adjeti World-Burner, weapon that did exactly what it said; it destroyed worlds. Harnessing the power of a star, it could focus that power until it scorched away everything on the surface of the targeted world, leaving nothing but a husk behind. The test firings did nothing like that, merely checking it's functionality. The beam decimated the Xaosians and Strom could hear brief screams, before a static crackle signalling the end of the cannon's fire. Only blackened charcoal statues remained.

The Bridge was clear now.

Strom seized his chance, edging carefully around his cover, and sprinted towards the nearest building, hugging the wall when he reached it. He checked around the corner and saw no Xaosians. He did, however, hear a banging and clattering from inside the building. He looked up at a sign above him; Hub Electricals. Cocking the U-7, Strom ventured into the store.

"You wan' a new Screen? Fifty-Six inches?" came one voice.

"How are we gonna get that back home without anyone seeing?" said another, this one female and familiar.

There were only two of them that Strom could see in this small store. Screens had been toppled over, some were cracked and broken; whether this was caused by the two looters or the Xaosians, Strom knew not. "Oi!" Strom called.

The male turned to face Strom, dropping a box to the floor. Something broke inside the box, judging the sound it made. "Wha'?" he asked with misplaced bravado.

Strom nodded towards the female. "You're looting. If I hand you in, you will be reconditioned. Both of you."

The female stood up and walked towards him. Strom recognised her now; she was the woman he had told to stay inside, the one with the newborn babe, the one who ignored him. "You again." she said.

"The feeling's mutual." Strom said, as monotonously as she had. "You should've listened to me."

The man chuckled. "Wha', and miss ou' on all this?" he gestured around the store. "Who are you, anyway, to tell us wha' to do?" He spat at Strom's feet.

Strom sighed. "You can ex' now and miss ou' on reconditioning. Or you can stay, be stunned and dragged to a reconditioning chamber. Your choice."

The female pulled on the man's arm. "Come on, let's get ex' of here."

"No." He shook her off. "We need these things for our son. We can no' afford these things. It's the government's fault!"

"I'm sorry," Strom said, silently agreeing; the government's harsh taxes sent many a family into a life of crime. "But I'm tasked with upholding the law." After a pause of silence, he said, "I guess I can let you take the broken ones; you can sell them for parts, I'm sure."

The man looked at Strom in the eyes. "Thank you." He sounded sincere; it was better than nothing, perhaps even better in the long term than just one working screen.

"Don' mention i'." Strom smiled. "Seriously, though, don', cause I'm no' sure if this'll hold up in a trial."

Strom looked outside and saw Titans moving in the sky, possibly towards the bridge. The fighting was still happening in the air, but it was quiet on the ground for the moment. Taking advantage of this Strom headed over to the bridge.

The roads were unrecognisable. Half of a Stinger had uprooted Hub Path, and parts of both road and fighter were strewn around the area. As Strom jogged past it, he could see the pilot's corpse impaled upon the flight-control joystick. Buildings had toppled either side of the road and the destruction seemed to be akin to that of a natural disaster, rather than a warzone. Crying children and shrieking adults grieved over the loss of family, friends or home. But there was no-one n the streets; people camped in the stores, or in the back alleys, and they stared at Strom as he passed.

Strom soon reached the remains of the Xaosians that tried to take the Bridge. Some stood still, mummified by the heat and ashes. Most were none existent, their remains covering the floor. There was no blood, no gore, just a clean death. Strom touched one of the mummified soldiers and where he touched, the soldier began to crumble until there was nothing left but dust.

The edge of the Bridge was also blackened from the OC blast. Strom began to run across the bridge, but slowed to a walk as he came closer to the base. Corpses littered the Bridge, both Xaosian and Raanian. Some had bullet wounds, some were split open or decapitated. The remains of a Crusher stood at one side of the bridge, its top turret obliterated and the rest of it buckled. Something splashed beneath his boots and droplets of blood leapt at his leg. He looked; he was wading through puddles of thick red blood.

Behind the corpses were a group of Raanian soldiers, all in grey armour; before the battle, Strom was sure they were white. One soldier had a blue stripe on their arm; a General. The General turned as he heard footsteps and, upon seeing Strom, reached forwards and grabbed Strom by the throat, lifting him up. "State your business." The General hissed.

"I'm Strom," Strom said, struggling for breath, "I'm a pilo' here."

The General released Strom and said, "General Trexor, Strom. Now get inside and find Admiral Fairns. We'll be right behind, were just getting the wounded inside."

"Was i' you?" Strom asked. "Was i' you who fired the OC?"

"I did, yes." Trexor said bluntly.

"It was a good call..." Strom said.

"What's wrong?" Trexor asked.

"Before today, I never even though' abou' death, no' on this scale. I never though' I'd kill someone, bu' I did. For the good of Raan. Bu' this is huge. You killed so many people with tha' thing and...I don' think I could've done i'." Strom's hands shook as he spoke.

Trexor put a hand on Strom's shoulder. "Strom...killing is never something you should enjoy, or aspire to do. You must never want to kill. You killed for Raan. I killed for Raan. I decimated the Xaosian forces today, and I'm proud. Not because I like killing, nor because I don't have a conscience, but because I helped protect our world."

Strom and Trexor walked inside the base together. Trexor bent down so he was eye-level with Strom and said, "Now go to Fairns; he'll tell you what to do. Trust him; I've got him doing what I want for now."

"Bu' isn' he your boss?"

"Run along now," Trexor said, a nasty grin on his face.

Strom walked away, turning back to see Trexor heading over to the ODS computer bay.

"Strom!" came a voice from nearby.

He turned to see a lanky young man waving to him. "Olaf!" Strom said, a grin splitting his face.

Olaf got down from a Stinger's wing and walked towards Strom, holding out his hand. Strom shook it; a gesture Strom was unfamiliar with, being from the North; handshakes were a Southern custom. "I'm glad you're OK, bro." Olaf said, "I was really worried when you hadn't turned up; I thought you were dead ext there."

Strom chuckled. "You don'' have to call me bro, bro. Your accen' doesn'' sui' i'."

Olaf acknowledge this with a slight nod of the head. "Noted." He lowered his voice, "Ilisa's around here somewhere; she wouldn't go into the air without making sure you were OK."

Strom felt his cheeks redden. "Ah. Righ'. Should probably do something abou' tha'."

"You bastard!"

Olaf chuckled under his breath, while Strom's smile slipped away. "Ilisa, calm down!" he called.

Something struck the back of his head and he turned to see an attractive, dark-haired woman; Ilisa. "Ow!" he said mockingly.

"I thought you were dead, why didn't you call?" Ilisa asked, her finger pointing at Strom. "And you," she yelled as Olaf opened his mouth, "keep your mouth shut!"

Olaf put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry sister." he said, winking. She gave him a reproachful look.

"I'm sorry, but calling wasn' my firs' though'; trying to stay alive was." Strom said in a soothing voice, trying to keep Ilisa calm.

"Well..." she struggled for words. "You had me worried, Strom. I was keeping a lookout and, well the North's been devastated. I thought you'd..." She trailed off.

"Well, I'm mostly fine." Strom said. This was mostly true; the pain in his ribs was wearing off now, so obviously they weren't broken, just bruised. "Now, come here." She walked over to him, and he held her close to him. Ilisa rested her head on Strom's should, and he kissed her on the top of her head. "I love you, y'know?"

"I know." Her voice was strained as she cried into Strom's shoulder.

"You three!" Yelled an unfamiliar voice. "Ge' to your Stingers, we're moving ex'!"

Strom let Ilisa go. "See you on the other side." he said with a smile.

"You better." she said back.

"And I'll hope to see you both." Olaf said. "Or have you forgotten me?" He chuckled after saying this, before clambering up a ladder to get into the Stinger's cockpit.

Strom left Ilisa at her's, while he looked up at his Stinger. A thrill stirred up inside of him; it was time to fly.

Chapter 4

Cinradahs 1

Cinradahs's office had three screens, linked up to one computer, to make for easier multitasking. Cinradahs himself sat in a Hauti-Skin chair which was on a rail that ran along the edge of the desk that filled half of his office. Unlike usual rail-desks, this one was motorised, requiring less effort on Cinradahs's part. There was a cuboid structure next to the desk, with various holo-cards and memory-chambers stored in it; a filing cabinet.

One of the screens flickered into life. "New Orbus, come in New Orbus." The image was of static, but Cinradahs could see a vaguely human shape behind it. He adjusted a setting on the computer, and Admiral Fairns came into view.

"New Orbus here. Minister Cinradahs, of Defence, here. State your business," Cinradahs noticed the star on Fairns's armour, "Admiral."

"We are under attack sir," Fairns said hurriedly. "We have beaten them off for now, but we fear they'll be back."

"Who?" Cinradahs asked, "Who is attacking you? Is it another Northern riot?"

"No," Fairns shook his head, as if it was obvious, "It's the Xaosians, sir. We're at war!"

"The Xaosians?" asked Cinradahs, "Are you certain? Not just a terrorist group?"

"No!" Fairns yelled. "The Dominion is in orbit!"

Cinradahs touched the screen and slid his finger along it, transferring Fairns to the one on the left. On the central screen, he opened the ship-log; a software tool for tracking ship serial codes. He typed in The Dominion, before selecting the correct code; the top one. The results came up on screen. "The Dominion is indeed above Raan." Cinradahs observed. "I need to speak to Xaos." The ruler of the planet Xaos was always named after the planet during their reign.

"Why?" Fairns asked. "I've told you what's happening here! He's destroying my city!"

"Where is Yuki?" Cinradahs asked about Raan's ruler.

"She's on New Orbus at the moment; she has a meeting with Lord Tahkshi later."

"Good, she's safe here." Cinradahs said, nodding. "And I need to speak with Xaos now."

Cutting off Admiral Fairns, Cinradahs sent a broadcast signal out to The Dominion. A silver face came up on the screen: Xaos.

"Minister Cinradahs, of Defence." Cinradahs announced himself. "I am talking to Xaos, ruler of Xaos?"

"Yes," Xaos hissed as the camera pulled back, revealing his surrounding. The room was a dull grey, but what Xaos sat upon was a throne carved in gold, with the twin parabola )( engraved into it. "But not just ruler of Xaos. Soon, Raan too will be mine."

"So you are at war Raan?" Cinradahs asked.

"No." Xaos replied, another Xaosian taking his place beside his throne. Behind both of them was a white figure that Cinradahs couldn't quite place the species of. "Not Raan. The rest of The Twelve will be ours."

"Why?" Cinradahs asked.

"Because we can!" roared Xaos. "We have the greatest military might of the Empire. We have Raan in our hands. We could take their military-base easily now that we know their tactics. Or, we could use the Earth-Scorcher on the Sea of Oil, shattering at least a quarter of the planet." Raan had only one continent which separated two masses of liquid; one of water and one of oil. The Sea of Oil was a huge danger for the planet itself, especially if bombarded with a laser from orbit.

"You wouldn't dare. The interplanetary backlash would destroy you like it did the Adjeti." Cinradahs threatened.

"I don't know," Xaos said, "Fear can be one hell of a weapon. They may surrender when they see me decimate Raan."

"You won't decimate Raan." growled Cinradahs.

Xaos laughed. "You threaten me." He grinned. "But I won't decimate Raan if they surrender. You tell Yuki that." Xaos cut the connection and a black screen stared back at Cinradahs.

"Admiral!" Cinradahs yelled, turning the Admiral's screen back on.

"What?" asked Fairns quickly.

"You need to surrender. Stop your attack now!"

"Why?" Fairns asked desperately.

"He will use The Dominion's laser to ignite the Sea of Oil."

"But...that would shatter Raan," Fairns exclaimed, "at least a quarter of it would be annihilated, and the rest of Raan may follow."

"I'm sorry then," Cinradahs spoke mournfully, "but you must surrender."

"Not my decision." Fairns said. "Yuki's the only one who can call the order."

"I override her. Do it now." Cinradahs growled, before turning the screen off.

After Cinradahs pushed a button on his desk, a drawer in the front of the desk slid open. Inside was a black cuboid, with a dozen bright red buttons. He pressed two of the buttons and said, "Saiun, find Yuki for me. Now!" before putting the com on the desk and closing the drawer.

He sat still for a moment, before looking down at his hand; it was shaking. He wasn't used to this and he didn't want this; the closest things he'd ever got to this were riots. No interplanetary conflict; the idea that there could be was an alien idea to him.

A voice came back from the com: Saiun. "She's in Presidential Suite 8, sir. Shall I send for her?"

"Yes." Cinradahs said, as if it was obvious.

Saiun was Cinradahs's deputy-in-training; in case anything happened to Cinradahs, he would be able to take over. Cinradahs saw him as a bright lad, but he was too nervous or shy to make his own decisions. Cinradahs would have to sort that out, especially with war on the way, and the possibility of New Orbus getting attacked.

New Orbus itself was the political centre of the Empire of Twelve, and the capital planet. The Empire, founded by the now-dead Adjeti race hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago, it reverted to human control after the Adjeti's war crimes. Using the World-Burner, the Adjeti destroyed everything on the surface of Orbus, including the entire Orban race. A war against the Adjeti followed, ending with the human Ardican using the World-Burner to destroy the Adjeti homeworld of Oblivion. The floating continent that was New Orbus was established on Orbus, now a barren rock, as a constant memorial to the lost Orban race.

And now Xaos wanted to rule it, using similar tactics to the Adjeti. Except the Adjeti established the Empire, giving all eleven planets the technology of space travel, while ruling from Oblivion. It seemed bliss, until the Orbans questioned their authority and suffered for it.

A knock on the door interrupted Cinradahs's thoughts. "Enter." he called.

The door opened and a woman, dressed in a red and gold robe, entered: Yuki, the Raanian President. "What do you want to see me about? Your servant said it was urgent."

Cinradahs felt a pang of annoyance at the description of Saiun a a `servant`. But he put that aside and spoke softly, "You are at war."

The look of fear and shock on her face expressed his emotions exactly.

Chapter 5

Devilclash 1

The Hive was unsettled, Devilclash noted. As a Pyrkagias, she was essentially just a Hive-Stone; an insect that controls a hive mind. The Hive made up the rest of her body, controlled by the Hive-Stone. But today, the Hive seemed restless, and the individual bugs would not stay in one place."Stop it!" she broadcast telepathically from the Hive-Stone; the bugs that formed her mouth were down by her left hand. She had not lost her eyes, though; she could look through any of the bugs that made up her body, or even all at once. But even without them, the Hive-Stone had a sonar-like detection sense. "Stop!" she broadcast again. This time, the bugs actually listened and formed a humanoid shape again. "Thank you." she said to herself, testing her mouth again. Her voice was more hoarse than usual, but she felt satisfied that all was working as it should.

But the sudden restlessness worried her; the Hive only felt like that in dire times. She remembered the last time she felt like this; on the onset of the Adjeti War. She was young then, centuries ago and, by Pyrkagias standards, still young now. She barely remembered the war itself, but the feeling of your body tearing itself apart and the confusion as you saw out of a hundred pairs of eyes, all moving in the opposite direction, was something she'd never forget.

She closed her eyes and opened the Hive-Stone to the Swarm.

The Swarm was the hive-mind of the entire Pyrkagia race, and all the emotions, knowledge and memories of every Pyrkagias that ever lived resided in it. She searched through it until she found a blazing surge of fear and anger. She honed in it and delved into it.

Fires, flames, fear gripped the building before it toppled. Things flew overhead, spewing fire down upon the land. Raan was doomed.

She closed her mind and was filled with dread: there was a Pyrkagias on Raan, and it was at war. It took all of her resilience to hold her body together as the bugs' instinct was to flee from the danger perceived by the Hive-Stone.

She turned and walked out of her room.

The walls of the corridor she stepped into were pure white, with windows traversing one side of it. Out of the window, Devilclash could see the New Orbus skyline below. Pillars of steel tried to touch the sky, but ultimately failed, while further away from the building she was in, Devilclash could see small dark-red squares, obviously roofs of houses. These had a road cutting through the centre, but the houses had a lot of green area surrounding them.

The building she was in was the Spire, or, as some called it, The Empire Building. This was where the Twelve rulers of the Empire met. As ruler on New Orbus, Lord Tahkshi was the leader of the Twelve, and the other eleven were due to arrive for the monthly conference soon. Yuki of Raan was already here, Devilclash had noticed; her perfume carried a distinctive scent that the bugs choked on.

There were signs on the wall, with signalling the directions for various areas of the building: the Presidential Suite, where the rulers of the Empire stayed, the Senate Room, where Tahkshi met with his ministers, such as Cinradahs, and the Empire Room, where the rulers met with Tahkshi. But Devilclash didn't need those signs; she had been around this building long enough. And even if she hadn't, she wasn't heading to either of the areas listed.

She heard footsteps approaching and she turned to see who it was. Although she need not have bothered, as she started to feel choked up: Yuki. "You." Yuki said, indicating Devilclash by jutting her chin upwards, "Where is Cinradahs?"

"Up the corridor and round the corner." Devilclash said, in pain from the scent.

Yuki strutted down the corridor and Devilclash returned to normal, the Hive trying to breath easily again. She shook her head: Yuki didn't even thank her. Although, Devilclash remembered, her planet is at war.

Using the Hive, Devilclash hovered above the ground now, careful not to make a sound as she went to Cinradahs's office; she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be there, but curiosity was in her nature.

Yuki knocked at the door. A voice answered, but Devilclash didn't hear what it said; it was too muffled. She figured it must have been "come in", because Yuki entered, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Devilclash moved closer and heard Cinradahs say: "You are at war."

There was silence for a moment, but then Devilclash heard a choked cry of "Impossible."

"I am afraid it is not." Cinradahs said calmly. "I have advised Admiral Fairns to surrender to the Xaosian forces."

"The Xaosians? Why am I not surprised..." Yuki swore. "And why surrender?" she spat at Cinradahs.

"On the Xaosians ship, they have a weapon akin to the World-Burner; they threatened to use it on the Sea of Oil." Cinradahs said, slowly and carefully, as if talking to a child. "That will destroy Raan. They won't use it if you surrender."

The World-Burner: the Hive hissed at the very mention of the machine. Adjeti and Pyrkagia were locked in a devastating war decades before the World-Burner was created. In fact, the Adjeti were the only beings to ever discover how to kill Pyrkagia.

Yuki seemed in distress. "We-well, what about the Orbital Defence System?"

"Admiral Fairns," Cinradahs called. There was a tapping sounds, like someone typing on a V-Board before Cinradahs continued. "Admiral. What is the state of the Orbital Defence System?"

Devilclash sent one of the Hive bugs to the doors and looked through its eyes. Everything was suddenly huge, but she could see the screens now. A middle-aged human dressed in a sleek silver armour, different to the white and grey of the others behind him. "Minister. My lady." The Admiral nodded to each of them respectively.

"Have you surrendered yet?" Yuki asked.

"No, but we will when we get your confirmation." Fairns looked at Cinradahs, "I'm sorry Minister, but I can't act without Yuki's approval."

Cinradahs slammed his fist down on the desk, scaring the Hive. Bugs scattered briefly, before rejoining again. "I try and help your world." Cinradahs growled, "And you throw it away because of your refusal to help yourself."

Yuki jolted, but then regained her posture, looking more haughty than ever; she obviously liked annoying Cinradahs, even in this time. "Admiral Fairns, what is the state of the ODS?" she shot a smug smile at Cinradahs.

"Almost non-existent." Fairns said sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, but there are very few cannons left. Two at my last count."

The smug smile melted from Yuki's face. "What?"

"The Dominion's weapon destroyed them all." Fairns said, shaking his head.

"Well...then..." Yuki seemed to be lost for words, before she yelled, "Use the remaining cannons and destroy The Dominion! Target the weapons and bring it down! We will not surrender!"

Devilclash reeled the Hive bug back into her body; it made up part of her left hand. She had heard enough: with that unrelenting woman in charge, Raan was going to die. She passed a framed picture of Orbus before it was scorched. Luscious, green plantlife filled the picture, with only a few small buildings scattered among it; it reminded her of her home on Buun. She wondered how the Orbans would view this massive, floating city as a memorial in contrast to their nature-embracing world. She had once delved into Swarm memories to get a glimpse of Orbus, but she could not find much, and what she could find was either after it's scorching, or locked away; some Pyrkagia didn't want to share their memories, and thus put inhibitors on their Hive-Stone. Usually these were for military or governmental reasons, but sometimes there were others, usually intimate, that were locked away. She felt a pang of sadness that she had never been in her childhood, but the Adjeti had imposed strict travel sanctions on the Pyrkagia after the Adjeti/Pyrkagia war; they were confined to Buun.

She continued down the corridor and into the Planetarium.

In the centre of the dark room was a huge ball of light; Solus, the star that eleven of the Twelve orbited. Around Solus were smaller spheres; not to full scale, or else they would have been dwarfed by Solus. There was the brown Rat'hak, the orange K'hrak, the blue Quarus, the silver Irin, the light grey Raan, the black Xaos, the red Prauw, the white Narcsia, the green Buun, the yellow Tras and the dull grey of New Orbus. Around another smaller star was another black planet: Oblivion. Devilclash reached up and grabbed the Virtual-Model of Oblivion and pulled it down to her. The artist who had made had even put tiny ruins on it; it truly looked dead, unlike Orbus, which seemed as though it had never been lived on.

She left the Planetarium through its other door and walked along a busier corridor. People barged past her, knowing the Hive out of place; she was no good in crowded places. Most of them were human but there was other species marching through the corridors: the reptilian Scalimen of Narcsia, here to escape their dying world; the strange Trasmen, whose hair had a literal mind of its own, and Quarens who wore a tank-like device around the neck to provide oxygen to their gills; their world was largely underwater. There was even a Hak'i, with its tusks trimmed to stop any accidental impaling. Devilclash looked around, but could see no other Pyrkagia; not unusual for a public place outside of Buun.

Devilclash put her discomfort aside and pressed on, pushing through the crowd. It took all of her resolve to keep her self together, despite the temptation to do otherwise. Out of all of her eyes, there were people standing, moving, walking. Out of all of her ears there were people talking into phones or to each other; it was deafening. From any of her angles, it was difficult to see the walls of the corridor. But she persevered.

After what felt like an eternity, she emerged from the corridor. There was still a lot of people here, but this hall was huge and could easily accommodate thousands. She headed to the left side of the room and walked along until she found the door she was looking for, before knocking.

"Come in." came a voice from within.

Devilclash did so. "Ah, Devilclash!" the Irinian sitting in the chair exclaimed. "How are you?"

Irinians were nicknamed Cyborgs for a simple reason; their electronic implants and augmentations. The augmentations allowed them to store knowledge, become faster and stronger, whilst being able to directly control their bodily processes by repression. Also, to protect against the vicious storms that frequented Irin, they had metal fibres woven into their skin.

"I'm good thanks, Seir," Devilclash said, "but not for long, I think."

"Why?" Seir asked.

Devilclash left an hour later with a heavy feeling in her heart; she started the walk happily, just wanting to see her friend, but instead she had told him about the onset of war.

Chapter 6

Tors 1

The windows were shook and rattled by the wind, while a substance from the sky hit and burned the windows: acid rain. Trees were uprooted, flying past Tors's pockmarked window. He looked at the devastation outside. The statue of Ardican in the town square was half melted, the stone face sliding down its leg. There was nothing outside; nothing living anyway. Dead birds lined the streets, the feathers burnt by the rain. Some had their necks snapped from where the wind had dashed them against buildings. Everyone remained inside, only a few with the window hue set to transparent.

The planet Narcsia was tearing itself apart.

"At least the earthquakes have stopped." Tors muttered to himself, trembling. He noticed that his scales had turned a dull red with worry, rather than the bright red they once were.

"What?" came a voice from upstairs.

The house Tors lived in was very traditional. There were three floors, with an escalator to each. Each person living in the house had their own floor, Tors with the middle. His house-mates had the others: Pandora downstairs, Emola upstairs.

"I said "at least the earthquakes have stopped!"" Tors called, coiling up his tail as he sat down.

"I know." Emola called. "That was pretty bleedin' obvious, if you ask me!"

Tors's scale briefly shifted darker, before returning to their usual state. "It was just an observation!" Tors said, annoyed.

"Well it was a stupid one." Emola said as he glided off the escalator. He nodded to the other escalator, "Pandora up yet?"

Tors chuckled, his reptilian lips curling up into a smile. "Her, up before dawn?"

His companion expressed a small smile at that. "Yeah true, should've thought about that."

The rain battering the window seemed to pick up in pace and it seemed like the window might buckle. Luckily, the acid rain appeared to be mixed in with normal water rain, judging by the lack of new burns on the window. But the rain came harder and harder and Tors was sure that the window would have shattered if it was made of glass like usual windows, rather than a reinforced plastic.

"Tors!" Emola called, looking out of the other window.

"What?" Tors said, mesmerised by the pounding rain; the winds were so powerful, it was almost raining sideways.

"Naarl's house is... destroyed." Emola said, his deep-blue scales growing darker. "I think he's dead."

"No." Tors whispered and hurried over to the window. Emola was right; the house was split down the middle by a tree, the trunk almost as thick as the house. There was no way Naarl, especially at his age, could have survived. "Poor guy."

"Yeah..."

They fell into a respectful silence.

Tors went over to the table and turned on the Screen. Static greeted him. He grimaced and turned the screen off; the weather was even messing with the video signals. They had no way of communicating with the outside world now.

"Signal out?" Emola asked, glancing over at Tors.

"Yeah." Tors said, before punching the cushioned chair. "Damn it!"

Emola gave Tors a strange look. "There's nothing you can do about it, and blaming the chair isn't going to help anyone, especially not the chair."

"That's the thing," Tors clenched his fists, "We have no control. No say if we live or die. We could all die like Naarl," he gestured in the direction of his house, "without meaning or warning."

"I'd rather not have a warning," Emola said, "that way it doesn't haunt you."

"I'd like a warning." Tors said, more to himself than to Emola. "Have time to prepare."

"Nah." Emola shook his head. "Enjoy life until the end, I say."

Tors pointed to the window. "Enjoying life right now?"

"You know what I mean. Oh, morning Pandora!"

Pandora emerged from up the escalator and stepped off less than gracefully as she tripped on the edge. As she fell, her hair reached out, grabbed a door handle, and pulled Pandora back up before it wrapped itself around her. She looked nervously up at the others and gave a shaky grin. "Is it morning? I cen't tell, it's so dark."

Emola nodded at the escalator. "Nearly slipping there?"

"Nearly, yes. Thet's the best bit about being a Trasman; the hair looks out for you." She spoke to her now, like a mother to a child, "Don't you? You look out for me, don't you?"

"That always creeps me out." Emola said to Tors, gesturing to Pandora.

Pandora laughed. "Well, what do you Scalimen have? Big tails that are in your way? Oh dear..." She put on a mock frown before investigating, then sitting down on the cushioned chair. "I wish you wouldn't abuse the furniture Tors, this thing was frayed enough."

"Does it really matter?" Tors said, his scales burning dark red.

"Calm down." Pandora gestured at his scales. "Just a joke. You can wreck whatever you went in here, we cen't take it with us tomorrow."

"If Evacuation-Day is still tomorrow and not delayed again." Tors said dismally, "If it hadn't been, Naarl – across the road – would still be alive."

Pandora's smile fell. "Yeah, I heard you say. He wes like a mentor to me, learning me the ways of Narcsia."

"He will be missed," Emola said, suddenly serious.

"He will." Pandora said.

The storm raged outside.

There was a creak from upstairs.

"What was that?" Emola asked.

A deafening crack echoed as the winds tore the house's roof from its foundations. Tors watched it fly into the air, before being devoured by the storm, reduced to rubble in seconds.

"Close the door!" Tors yelled. Emola obeyed as water rushed down the escalator as the top floor flooded. The door click shut, then hissed as it sealed to be waterproof.

Tors let a breath out; that could have been bad. He looked back outside and he could see the winds ripping the upper walls to shreds. Soon, the ceiling above him would go, and those walls would be torn away. Down would be the only way to go, with a frantic dash as a torrent of water and acid storming behind them. Wind would take hold of their possessions and use them in combat, whilst grabbing Tors in its claws. Tors would prevail, but Pandora falls. Emola picks her up and drags her down the escalator, calling for Tors, who does not hear over the roaring winds. But he eventually finds the strength to pull himself up, muscles straining and, against Narcsia's apparent wishes, he throws himself down the escalator, closing the door to be watertight. Looking outside, Pandora makes a half-hearted quip about the cushioned chair flying past but then fell back into silence.

And all Tors could do was watch the chair spin, hoping that it wouldn't get revenge and puncture a window.

They were down to one last ceiling.

One last hope.
Chapter 7

Foton 1

With the cold metal railing in his hands, Foton leaned over the balcony; a large semi-circle that jutted out of the Spire not far from its pointed peak. From here, Foton could see to the edge of New Orbus and to the dusty stone ruins of Orbus beyond. He looked down to the streets surrounding the Spire. There were landmobiles on the grey roads, their anti-gravity generators negating the need for wheels. Foton disliked landmobiles; they didn't have the sense of freedom that aeros had. The aeros had full 3-Dimensional movement, within certain bounds; they were to go no higher than 1500 Standards due to aerospace regulations. Sometimes, Foton wished he could forget his responsibilities and just fly, free of society's restraints and the bounds of gravity.

Foton moved along the balcony, his arms gliding along the smooth metal railing. From this position, he could see more of the parks that been specially grown for this metal hulk of a landmass. While he could not see the people in them, he knew that there would be children there, playing together under the watchful eyes of their parents; this wasn't like Raan, where children were brought up by Raisers. Further away, Foton could see the ten biodomes, each mimicking the average climate of one of the other planets in the Twelve, aside from Oblivion. This allowed New Orbus to grow food and host animals from all of the planets, not having to rely on trade in case of emergency. These were huge, each the size of small towns or large villages; the populace were not running out of food any-time soon. These were guarded by a collection of orbital systems, which Foton could just about make out from his viewpoint as a group of silver dots in the sky. But these were no-where near as well protected as the Anti-Gravity generator that suspended New Orbus above the surface of Orbus. Not only were they monitored by a stealth-orbital system, but their locations were kept a secret, with several decoys. Each had a mag-pulse generator, to repel high-speeding metal projectiles, and the thick, dense casing should be enough to repel orbital cannons. From his viewpoint, Foton could see one of the decoys; he knew where the real one was. These were giant cuboid buildings, stretching almost 1000 Standards into the sky; unmissable, but necessary to house the hulking machinery within.

He started as a sound disturbed him. Turning, he saw an Irinian woman walking towards him. She was tall, but not as tall as Foton, and very slender. At certain angles, her skin had a faint silver shimmer; metal fibres were inserted into Irinians' skin at birth to protect against the planet's weather. Running along the left side of her face, stretching from eye to her ear, before travelling down to the side of her mouth was an Irinian Augmentation, or Aug for short. "Foton," she said, bowing her head.

"No need to bow to me, Teriva." Foton said, smiling. "What brings you here?"

"I came to see Tahkshi,"Teriva said. "You're his bodyguard, where is he?"

"He's gone to talk to someone." Foton answered solemnly. "Have you heard about Raan?"

Teriva sighed. "Yeah. And still my sister refuses to come to the capital."

"Maybe Arias doesn't want to pledge her armies in a war that may only last a few days," Foton suggested, "although the Xaosians are pretty serious; they're not gonna give up."

"Exactly." Teriva agreed. She ran a hand through her black hair. "I only came here to Tahkshi, and now I'm a political mediator."

"Tell me about it." Foton said light-heartedly, "I'm practically an ambassador for Prauw."

Teriva chuckled, twisting her mouth as if trying to hide her smile. "I never knew you were from Prauw." she said, folding her arms. "I always assumed Raan."

"Wha', and talk like this, ma'e?" Foton said in a Raanian accent.

"Wow..." Teriva said, "You should be an enemy of Raan for that accent! And I meant the wealthier parts."

"Nah, Prauw. It's not the best place, but it's simple." Foton stated.

Teriva nodded, "Simple's good."

They fell into silence for a moment, before Foton's pocket emitted a high-pitched squeal. He pulled a com out of it and pressed the button in the centre. "Foton here."

"I know," came the voice of Lord Tahkshi, president of the Empire of Twelve, "otherwise your com wouldn't be ringing. Can you pick up Devilclash and meet me at Buun's com-room?"

"Why?" asked Foton, annoyed at Tahkshi's sarcastic comment.

"Because Buun would be a good ally in our war with the Xaosians." Tahkshi said.

"Alright then." Foton said, before glancing over at Teriva. "By the way, Teriva's here."

"Is she?" Tahkshi's voice sounded more enthused now. "Pass me over please."

Foton mentally grinned as he passed the com over; one mention of Teriva would suddenly make Tahkshi polite. Teriva began talking into the com, but Foton ignored her; it didn't matter to him what they were saying. There was a sudden giggling and Foton saw Teriva's cheeks redden. She waked over to Foton, still talking into the com. "Love you too!" she called into the com, before passing it back to Foton, who raised an eyebrow; she was acting like the child she would've been thirty years ago.

"So, the Buun com-room with Devilclash?" Foton affirmed.

"Yeah, see you soon." Tahkshi finished, before the com began to buzz; the call was over. Foton pushed the com's button and the buzzing stopped, before replacing it in his pocket.

"What are you doing now?" Foton asked Teriva.

"I'm going to wait for him here." she said, leaning on the balcony's railing. "You should probably be going."

"See you later." Foton said, turning away.

He walked into the Spire, before entering an elevator, which took him down to the penultimate floor. From there, he went into the Tracking room, where he went over to the central computer and placed his thumb on the pad in front of it. This checked his thumbprint against the one on the database, whilst monitoring his pulse to make sure that there was one, or that he was not panicked or coerced into opening the system. A red light turned green and the screen turned on, displaying a map of each of the Spire's floors, all of them covered with blue shapes. Each blue shape was a bodyguard, all of whom had chips implanted in them; in Devilclash's case, it was attached to the Hive-Stone rather than in the neck. The Tracking room's purpose was to allow Foton, as the chief bodyguard, to find and track the other guards. He brought up a search box and typed in "DEVILCLASH-pyr". She was on the seventh floor, standing in the main hall. Foton sighed; the Buun room was on the floor below the one he was on, nowhere near the seventh. For a moment, he wondered why Tahkshi hadn't just commed her as well, but then he remembered that Devilclash couldn't carry a com with her all the time. On the way out of the room, he spied the old building-com; this allowed him to communicate with everyone in the building, or on one floor, at once. He dusted it off and plugged it in, before selecting Floor 7 from the menu. He cleared his throat, before saying, "Devilclash, please meet Foton outside the Buun com-room. Repeat, Devilclash to the Buun com-room." He watched Devilclash's dot move towards the nearest elevator. Foton smiled and nodded, before walking out of the Tracking Room and moving towards the stairs to the floor beneath.

Twelve doors set in a circle greeted him as he arrived on the com-floor. The door he had came through and another door led to stairs, spiralling in opposing directions; one up, one down. The other ten doors led to separate com rooms; one for each of the Twelve, aside from New Orbus and Oblivion. One to Foton's left had "BUUN" engraved on a plaque attached to it. Pressing his ear to the door, Foton could hear Tahkshi's soft and soothing "political voice".

"Should you really be listening?" came a rasping voice.

"Devilclash," Foton said, turning to see the Pyrkagias. "You got here quickly."

She began to walk over to him, but her feet didn't touch the floor; they never did. "D." Foton asked, "Why do you bother to do the actions? Or even look human?"

"The Primary recommends it, so that we can fit in." Devilclash said, "It doesn't work though, people still tend keep away from us. Also, I think it's a nice form."

"It is." Foton admired the Pyrkagia; powerful, immortal and somewhat graceful. For a swarm of bugs, anyway.

The door to the Buun com-room opened and Lord Tahkshi emerged, his red and gold lord's robe billowing behind him. "Foton. Devilclash." Tahkshi acknowledged them both with a brief nod.

"Why did you want us, sir?" Foton asked.

"Well, Foton, I'm pretty sure you know your job description; you're my bodyguard, and you will guard my body." Tahkshi said. Foton bit back a retort. "And you, Devilclash; partially for the same reason, but also because of your species. The Pykagian Primary refuses to talk over coms; we have to go to Buun to ask for his help." Tahkshi turned to Foton. "I'm assuming you've never been to Buun before?"

"You assume wrong." said Foton.

"Really?" Tahkshi said, his voice going higher-pitched in his surprise. "Good. Nixiin has the ship ready for us, so can you two go there now? I'm going to see Teriva quickly."

"You had better be quick." Foton said, his deep voice becoming more of a growl.

Tahkshi ignored him and walked away at a brisk pace.

Devilclash turned to Foton. "Have you really been to Buun?"

"Yes." Foton said. "I wouldn't lie to my client."

"But you hate him." Devilclash stated; not a question, but an utterance of fact.

"Not hate." Foton said. "Distaste, but not hate. And it's a matter of honour; I am bound to protect him."

"So, why'd you go to Buun?" Devilclash asked.

Foton paused for a moment, before looking at Devilclash and saying, "Fancied a change of scenery."

She gave Foton a strange look and said "Okay then."

He nodded, before turning and walking to the stairs heading downwards, knowing that she didn't believe him.

Chapter 8

Strom 3

Strom was forced back in his seat as the Stinger gave a throaty roar and did away with the bonds of gravity. The titanic Crushers, more of them still moving towards the bridge, seemed like ants; albeit ants that could fight back. Even the skyscrapers did not look so imposing as Strom grew level with their highest floors. Curtains were drawn in many that he could see, but some buildings had had their entire top floor obliterated, yet few were too much worse. One, Strom could see, was leaning to the left, bricks and glass running down its underside as though it was crying.

To his side, Strom could see Olaf and Ilisa, each piloting their own Stingers. Olaf caught Strom looking and saluted mockingly. Strom chuckled; Olaf could never take anything seriously, unlike his sister, who simply gave him a brief nod and a reassuring smile.

And then they met the Reapers.

Larger than the Stingers, the black Reapers were just as fast and twice as dangerous; even the black colouring helped them disappear into the night. Thermo-locking missiles were mounted on the wings of both craft, but the Reapers also had a chain-gun under the nose-cone; these deadly weapon fired large, nail-like bullets, which detonate their deadly interiors seconds after impact; ideal for destroying aircraft. Reapers were not tools of defence, only indiscriminate killing machines.

Strom swerved, two thermo-missiles narrowly missing their target. Strom looked at the screen to his right; it showed a view from the rear camera. The missiles stopped in mid-air, before turning and darting back at Strom. As they drew closer, Strom veered to the left. The missiles shot past, but Strom was on them now, and fired his own. The four missiles collided and detonated together, flames billowing backwards in the air. A Reaper darted past Strom, its tail-fin scraping the Stinger's wing. Inside, Strom caught a glimpse of the Xaosian inside, who glared back with black eyes.

A crackle of static came over the radio, before Admiral Fairns's voice said, "All pilots, come in. We have orders from President Yuki to engage The Dominion. This attack is of paramount importance; the Xaosians have threatened to ignite the Sea of Oil. Our ODS is near enough depleted and destroyed. Forget Tapal, forget your families, forget your friends. Here, we fight for our planet. Up there, I want you to fight for yourselves; I want you to win, and if – I say if – we lose, we lose kicking and screaming all the way. Forget honour now; we fight for our lives. I will be taking to the air myself soon, leaving the ground forces in the command of General Trexor. Begin your assault."

In the Stinger's cockpit, Strom pulled a lever, and the cockpit was airlocked; nothing got out, and nothing got in. Instead, plant-based filters changed the carbon dioxide he exhaled back into oxygen to be inhaled again; perfect for space flight. Following Ilisa, Strom shot upwards. As he got higher, the cockpit turned cold, so he flicked the switch which activated the solar-powered heaters. The heat coming off of the small pads on his seat relaxed his body, as if he was in a warm bath. But his mind stayed resolute as the Stinger was slung into a higher form of darkness.

For a moment, Strom felt weightless before the gravity compensators adjusted themselves. There were few Reapers up at this height; most were in Raan's skies. Instead, twisted and burnt spirals of metal floated in front of him, slowly turning like gears in a broken clock. Strom weaved in and out of the ruins of the ODS until finally he saw it.

The Dominion.

Only visible by the Solus's reflection in its solar panels, The Dominion was a sight to behold. A wedge-shaped slice of pure darkness and, judging by the number of gun emplacements, a machine of destruction. As the Stingers converged on the Flagship, its hull was lit up with the smallest of flashes; merely the impact of the missiles on the behemoth's force field, which acted as an invisible, thicker hull; it could be breached, eventually. Flashes illuminated the gun emplacements as they fired; hulking, cylindrical constructions, there were four smaller cylinders on both its left and right, with a command centre at the top. Strom briefly saw three Xaosians in one such command centre, as the smaller cylinders fired their deadly cargo, recoil only affecting them slightly. The cannon-fire did not cause the Stingers that were in its path to explode, or at least, not in the conventional way; normally, explosions are associated with flames and crashes, but in space, neither of those things can happen. Instead, the Stingers are simply forced apart by the impact of the explosive shell, before the explosion scatters them in every direction. No sound, no flames, no collateral.

As the cannons fired again, a Stinger near to him was caught in the missile's path. The nosecone was forced back into the cockpit, before it shattered and the remains of the pilot were ejected forcefully. The nosecone, still being forced backwards, crushed into the back of the craft, which began to disintegrate. The wings came apart, as did the tail fin. The ammunition and cannons came loose from their riggings and floated away from the ship, where the nosecone had finally emerged from the rear of the Stinger. Then, the missile exploded, and the pieces were scattered like shrapnel, which cut into the nearby Stingers. Strom shoved the joystick to the left, and the Stinger rolled like a ball to the left, narrowly avoiding a large chunk of what appeared to be part of a the Stinger's wing.

Strom fired on The Dominion, missiles storming towards it. But none hit the flagship, detonating just meters from the hull; the forcefield still wasn't down. Strom flew along the length of the flagship, peppering it with the thermo-locking missiles. Small explosions flashed briefly as they hit the forcefield, blending in with hundreds of others. Stingers were forced apart all around him and he would see the pilots float out, clutching their throats as their breath was stolen away. Some, Strom recognised; most, he did not. Just nameless faces that he may never forget, eyes begging for help and mercy from anyone who could. But no-one could deliver.

Strom came across one of the functioning cannons of the Orbital Defence System. The tubular object had two solar panels jutting out of it, with an antenna-like dish on the end of it. Poking out of the centre of the dish was a long, slim cone with a rounded top; this was where the ammunition was fired from. Hundreds of small explosives dwelled inside the satellite, all on a chain-fire belt. Thanks to the belt, they were shot at extremely high velocities and, due to their small size, were excellent armour-penetrators. What struck Strom, however, was that it wasn't firing. He stopped his Stinger next to it, engaging the craft's gravity-locks. Pressing a button under his seat, a small compartment behind the seat opened. Inside was a standard-issue spacesuit, designed for short excursions into space. As it was standard issue, it shrank or grew to fit any shape, size or species. Strom wriggled into it and put the helmet on; it was too big for him and his head seemed lost inside it, but the airlocks closed around the suit's collar as he plugged the helmet into the Stinger's oxygen supply.

He opened the cockpit.

Even through the spacesuit, Strom felt a breeze as air was sucked from the craft. He drifted off of the seat, and quickly grabbed the side of the cockpit to steady himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing. This won't be like before. The memory of before only made him think of falling, drifting, dying. Olaf can't save me this time. He remembered his friend's hand, grasping his own. At that point, Strom could barely see, but he took the hand which flailed in front of him before being crammed into a Stinger and passing out. Strom's heart raced as he thought about it, but then he remembered Fairns's words: "we fight for our planet". Gulping, Strom rose from his seat, going into a crouching position. His hand shook as it gripped the edge of the seat. He noticed that, unconsciously, both hands were gripping tight, and that the rubber supports on the seat had split slightly. Breathing in, he pushed away from the seat. Drifting forwards, Strom flailed to try and grab the satellite. His fingers touched the side of it.

And slipped away.

Panicking, Strom flailed once more, heart speeding up. This was just like before, just as he feared. But with no-one to save him, he was as good as dead, lost in space, just one of the corpses that he'd seen floating in the endless void.

The oxygen cord snapped taut and Strom stopped with an abrupt halt. He let out a deep breath, which he didn't realise he had been holding in. He swam through space, as if doing the breast-crawl. Drifting slowly back towards the satellite, Strom realised that he had worried for nothing. Last time, before, he remembered that the cord had snapped; he relied solely on the backup oxygen supply in the small cannisters embedded in the suit.

Approaching the satellite once more, he put his hand out, slowly and carefully this time. He felt the touch of cold metal through the spacesuit's gloves as his hand clasped a ridge on the side of the Orbital Cannon. He dragged himself closer, painfully slamming his body into the metal surface, making him wince as his ribs erupted with pain again.

The satellite was larger than he had expected when he had first seen it; it was close to the size of a small house, obviously to house all of the ammunition as they did not get serviced often. Clambering along it, Strom searched for an access panel. The panel would not be large, only big enough for an arm to fit in and fix any software faults; the satellites were controlled completely by a special AI, which would sort and fix any mechanical failures. With the solar panels powering it, the AI would never go offline. Hence, the only reason for the cannon not firing would be a failure within the AI, which should be fixed by rebooting the system.

Strom barely felt the groove of the access panel through his gloves, but he knew it was there; perhaps the absence of sound heightened his sense of touch. He considered this as he thought never would've been able to feel that normally.... He wrapped his fingers around the edges and slid the panel open. Inside was a small screen with a touchscreen keypad. Strom entered the numbers 7719: the reboot code. The screen went black, before some white text came up saying "REBOOTING". Beneath was a bar which was slowly lengthening. Strom nodded, satisfied with the job he'd done. He pushed himself off of the satellite, towards his Stinger. Pulling himself into the seat once more, he closed the cockpit and sealed the airlocks again before quickly stripping off the spacesuit. Disengaging the gravity-locks, the craft began to move again and Strom steered it away from the Orbital Cannon while he slowly counted down, nodding to each number.

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 escape.

"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.

"Found it." Ilisa sounded desperate and breathless as she interrupted Strom's trance, before she let out an involuntary wail when she saw Olaf's wound; almost as if subconsciously accepting his fate. But her conscious was not going to give up yet. She attached nodes to Olaf's chest, just over where his heart would be. These nodes were connected to the box that she held in her hand, and were designed to administer an electrical pulse each to get the heart started again. Strom looked at the wound; even if the bullet had missed his heart, he knew Olaf wouldn't live. He knew it. But even if there was a slim chance, even if it was just time to say goodbye...

The machine beeped and Olaf's body jerked a little, but Strom's scanner showed no pulse. Ilisa looked at him expectantly, but Strom's eyes must have told her all she needed to know. She tried again and again, the body just jerking up each time, with the finger slamming the reviver harder and harder before she dropped the box and fell to her knees beside her fallen brother.

The ship jolted suddenly and a Reaper flew past. Strom looked out of the cockpit and saw burn marks across the side of the ship; bullets had grazed Ilisa's Stinger. Strom clipped his helmet back on. "The Reapers are back!" he called to Ilisa, who was clipping her helmet on too. Strom's breathing became irregular and rapid as something welled up inside him, replacing his grief. "I'm gonna make them pay."

"Strom, no!" Ilisa made to grab him, but he had already opened the cockpit and pushed away from her ship.

As he floated through space towards his Stinger, he forgot his previous fears and latched onto the right wing before dragging himself into the cockpit, closing the canopy and starting the ship up abruptly, not even bothering to strap in as he followed the trail of the Reaper. "Strom. Strom, come back!" Ilisa yelled over the com, but he ignored her, turning the com off completely; no need for distractions: he was a thruster down and chasing after a skilled pilot.

The pilot must have known Strom was after him now, because the Reaper suddenly went into a nosedive straight down to the planet. Strom followed, trying to get lock a missile onto the bastard, but failing every time. The Reaper was easily outpacing him as it entered the atmosphere; Strom's ship hissed as he too entered the atmosphere: the airlock unlocked to save on the Stinger's oxygen supply. The Reaper straightened out once more, flying at a standard level above a small town. Strom struggled to follow and found himself flying through the town. This town seemed relatively unscathed by the conflict; only a few buildings seemed to have scored hits and the residents were outside trying to help those who had been hurt. That behaviour would never be seen in Tapal, but Raanian life was very different if you lived in a town. Now, all these people stared up at the out of control Stinger as it stormed between the buildings. Some people ducked as it went past, the slipstream ruffling their hair. The left wing caught on a building, tearing a chunk out of both wing and window, and sent the Stinger spiralling further, Strom slamming the Stinger into the opposite direction while focusing intently on the escaping Reaper. The Stinger gradually came back to his control as he barely managed to avoid hitting the buildings on the main street, but a violent swerve sent him heading down a tight side road. Knowing he couldn't make it, he angled the ship by ninety degrees, so that the wings were aligned vertically. The cockpit scraped along one of the buildings, throwing brick dust in small splatters across the canopy, obscuring Strom's vision. He emerged from the side road and into another main street, before pulling up and rising higher and higher until he found the Reaper again.

The pilot had got pretty far, and it hadn't become complacent in Strom's absence, putting a lot of distance between the two. Strom looked on the radar and followed the rough trajectory of the Reaper: it was heading to Tapal. Even after Xaos had doomed the coastal towns to burn, he still wanted to smash Raan's capital. Strom fired at the Reaper; he was sure to hit it eventually. He had to: life for a life.

And they would have hit, if the pilot hadn't retracted the wings; they appeared to fold up into the body of the Reaper, causing the missiles, not being locked on to anything, to fly past. Strom cursed; he'd never seen that before. Perhaps this wasn't a standard Reaper after all. The Reaper, without its wings, seemed to be going faster and faster, gaining speed as it went. The engines whined as Strom pushed them to their limits and still barely keeping up. He couldn't believe the speed on this Reaper, it was faster than any small vessel he had seen before. He turned the com on again. "Ilisa, are you seeing this?". He sounded more curious than angered now.

She sounded flustered when she spoke again. "Is that the bastard who killed Olaf?"

"Yes." Strom's voice was level and resolute.

"Then it doesn't matter what sort of ship it is, we'll take it down!" Ilisa's Stinger drew up level with Strom's now, he could see Olaf's head behind Ilisa's; obviously the body was behind the pilot's seat now.

"And then we can bury Olaf."

Ilisa's voice faltered. "No, Strom. Cremate; that's how my parents went."

Strom bowed his head; Ilisa's parents had been killed years ago in one of the first Northern riots in Tapal. Hundreds were killed, both Northerners and Southerners, in the riot, one of the bloodiest that the city had ever seen. Since then, the riots seemed only like aftershocks after a quake.

Strom engaged thrusters again, and tore after the modified Reaper, Ilisa at his side. The Reaper was moving left and right in a lazy attempt to avoid Strom's target lock. Strom concentrated, tweaking the Stinger's path until finally the target screen beeped, and Strom launched two missiles.

But no missiles launched.

He pushed the button again, in case it was stuck. Nothing. A wave came over him, and he roared in a mixture of fury and anguish, before he punched the target screen, cracking the glass. He buried his head in his hands and muttered to himself. As his hands grew slick with tears, he mumbled "Failed you..." quietly, before he heard Ilisa.

"Strom!" She sounded urgent. "The Reaper's turned back around!"

Strom looked up and saw the streamlined Reaper, wings still folded in, coming straight at him. Frantically manoeuvring, his Stinger barrel-rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the kamikaze assault. "Take it down, Ilisa!"

"I can't get a lock! And if I miss, I'll hit you; it's too close!"

Strom saw the Reaper open fire on his craft, but the Stinger couldn't move out of the way quick enough and an explosion threw Strom to the side, out of his seat. Checking another screen, he realised that the Reaper had just destroyed his other thrusters. With a sudden dullness in his heart, he came to the conclusion that he could go nowhere but down. He watched as Ilisa fired upon the Reaper and felt satisfied as it exploded, further and further away.

In a plume of smoke and fire, the Stinger screamed its way through a skyscraper, before burying itself in the atrium of another. The wreckage opened and Strom fell out, barely alive. Just in sight, rimmed with red, he could see Ilisa's Stinger land, and she leapt out of it and ran over to him.

"Strom!"

She was safe. Strom relaxed.

As his eyes closed, Strom looked past her and saw Olaf, standing straight with an open hand; beckoning.

Darkness.
Chapter 13

Trexor 3

"Space team, disengage and evacuate as many people as you can from the north coast!" The base was frantic, with Trexor, Fairns and the other generals yelling commands to other military units across Raan; many were beginning some sort of evacuation, but where was safe? "Send them to Ketin." Ketin was a smaller city than Tapal, but it had not been targeted by the Xaosians yet. Trexor put the com-unit down, before turning to Fairns. "How bad are the fires?"

Fairns shook his head. "The worst glimpse of hell that a man should ever see."

"What about Raan? Could it..." Trexor's words caught in his throat. "Could what Xaos said be right?" Looking around, he lowered his voice and said, "Could Raan be destroyed?"

Fairns flexed his fingers nervously, and they cracked like mini explosions. "Come with me."

Trexor followed him through the base. All around were injured personnel, unable to go anywhere else. Doctors were with them, but they could not keep up with the demand. The able personnel were rushing around, gathering supplies, before booting up ancient Dropships. The Dropships were deemed unnecessary in Tapal, due to both the peacetime and the apparent deterrent of the military-base. But now, they would aid in the evacuation effort. Trexor watched as they rose into the air, whining as they did so.

Eventually, Fairns led Trexor into a small room, where three men sat at a screen; Irinian, judging by their shimmering skin. Upon hearing the door open, one man stood up clumsily and saluted. "Admiral Fairns, sir!"

"Stand down." Fairns seemed annoyed at the young man's sign of respect. "What's the situation?"

"Worse than we thought, Admiral." The man who spoke pointed at the screen. On the screen was a geological cross-section of Raan, showing the Sea of Oil at the very top. "As you can see in this simulation," he pressed a button on the screen's console and the oil lit up in flames, "as this part the Sea of Oil ignites, it soon spreads and the entire sea is aflame." He looked at Fairns and Trexor, who nodded slowly. He pointed at a small black crack which ran from the Sea of Oil to deep in the planet's core. "It's this fissure which is the problem; yes, it stops seismic activity across the planet, and I thank the Adjeti for thinking of that idea, but if the flames spread into there, it could, and I stress, could, cause a chain reaction and ignite the inner layers of the planet."

"And how would that affect us?" Fairns was flexing his fingers again.

The man faltered, so the silent one answered, "We don't know."

"You don't know?" Trexor's growl put a spark of fear in the Irinians' eyes. "I want an idea, something! What. Could. Happen?"

"Worst case scenario? The planet ignites and everything on it dies." Trexor felt his face fall as a sudden cold rushed through him.

"And the best-case?" Fairns asked, voice wavering.

"A few minor earthquakes." The Irinian smiled as he said so, as if he had delivered good news.

Trexor grabbed the Irinian by the throat and raised him off the ground. The other two retreated to the side. "Wipe that smile off your face, you little shit. Even one quake could level this city; those skyscrapers were built for convenience, not to withstand disaster." The Irinian fell to the ground, clutching his throat as Trexor released him. "Fairns, what do we do?" Trexor's face fell, eyes and mouth drooping as he realised the hopelessness of the situation.

"More evacuations seems like the only cause of action." Fairns cracked his knuckles again, wincing this time. "But we don't have the resources."

"Then the people will have to make do with an old method." Trexor marched out of the small room and into the bustling command hub. Clapping his hands to get attention, he roared to the crowd, "You lot! Get your arses in gear! Sound the alarms, we need everyone evacuated and onto the farms outside the city! We have reports that the buildings could collapse at any point; we need to save as many people as possible. Now, go!"

*

The alarms rang and rang and rang through the day. Soldiers ran, kicking doors down and dragging families from their homes, seeming to the unwitting eye like the invaders that had doomed their planet. Trexor jogged towards a skyscraper unscathed by the Xaosian attack; it was at the furthest northern edge of the city. All around, curses and slurs were written boldly in once-bright paint; a stain on even this part of the city. As his eyes darted subconsciously around, he remembered the last time he had been this far north. He rubbed a hand over his back and winced; the pain had never went away and never will: part of the knife's blade was jammed into his right lung; removing it could kill him. Instead, Trexor adopted to have an artificial expansion to his lung, effectively replacing the damaged section. He hated this place. Glass cracked underfoot, bricks clattered away from his footfalls and the needles and knives strewn around would have pierced his foot, had it not been for the steel-soled boots.

One of those boots sent the atrium door of its hinges, and it clattered to the floor. Inside, there was no light; the power for this district was probably knocked out, or rerouted to the military-base. "Torches on." he said to the five other soldiers with him. "Spread out; I'll take this floor, you can take the others." The ground floor was always the heaviest populated; to give the skyscrapers some sort of stability, the ground floor acted as a large base for the spire to sit atop. Once the others had gone into the elevator shaft, Trexor heard them activate their climbing gear; elevator shaft was the only way up.

Knocking on the first door, Trexor heard no reply. "Anyone home?" No reply still, but a scratching sound instead. Frowning, Trexor went to knock on the door again, and it fell backwards and onto the ground with a dull thud, throwing up a small dust cloud. The torchlight helped to illuminate a path ahead of him, and he saw a pile of boxes stacked in a corner. Making sure no-one was looking, he inched ever-closer to them; something about them felt wrong to him. After clipping his torch onto his shoulder, he pulled the top one off of the pile and opened it. Dozens of bags of white powder were inside, each marked with a red feather. "Bloodhawks..." Trexor muttered to himself; whoever lived there was evidently a high-ranking member of the Bloodhawks, one of the three major gangs that operated in the North.

Thud.

Trexor turned abruptly, drawing his pistol from its holster, setting it to stun; no need for more killing today. "I know you're there, now come on out." He saw something shine in the kitchen-doorway and lurched back just in time for a knife to slam into one of the boxes, spilling the powder over the floor. Trexor backed behind a chair and kept his gun pointed at the doorway.

"My quarrel is not with you." His attacker spoke in a soft voice. "In fact, all I have done is get rid of a criminal; you should be thanking me."

Trexor turned his light onto the speaker; tall, slim, bald, but there was a faint scar which arced from his left ear to his nose. He stood, and looked at the man. "Remember me?"

The man cocked his head and smiled. "Ah, General. I never forget a face, and you put up..." he paused and stroked his scar, "more of a fight than others."

"And you failed your mission." Trexor said bluntly; this man, Trexor found out months after his attack, was a member of the Assassins: a group of mercenaries for silent murders. This man was Trem Naylar, one of the lower echelon members. "I still have part of your knife in my shoulder, you know?"

Trem smirked and exhaled as if amused. "I don't like an unfinished job." He drew a small pistol from a holster on his thigh and fired at Trexor.

The bullet barely missed Trexor's head as he jerked to the side. Growling, Trexor drew his own sidearm and took a shot at where Trem was, but he had vanished. Trexor cursed; letting an assassin out of your sight was tantamount to suicide. Deciding it was useless, Trexor put his gun away and drew his sword instead; a better defence against a close-range attack, as there would be no point trying to defend against a gunshot he can't hear. "What now?" Trexor called, walking over to the door. "I could just walk away right now."

No answer.

Trexor pushed the door closed. "But now we can't."

"It's like you want me to finish the job." Trem's voice echoed round the room. "But I would like my blade back."

A shadow leapt at Trexor, but he put his sword up in the way, and forced Trem back, before kicking his feet out from beneath him. Trem slashed with the knife, but it caught on Trexor's armour. Trexor stamped on Trem's wrist, and the knife dropped to the ground. Pinning him to the cold floor, Trexor hissed in his ear, "You want your damn blade back?" Trem struggled, but Trexor twisted his arm around until he gasped in pain. Sheathing his sword, Trexor used his now-free hand to pick up the dropped knife. "A fine blade." The handle was golden – too heavy for real gold – and had indents in for each of Trem's fingers. The silver spike emerging from the handle was long and thin like a needle, and almost identical to the one still inside Trexor.

Trem twisted his head around and saw Trexor examining the blade. "What are you doing? If you're going to kill me, get on with it!"

Trexor poked Trem's shoulder with the tip of the blade, nicking the skin slightly. A circle of red slowly formed where the skin was cracked. "I won't kill you, you're defenceless."

Trem smiled. "Even after I try and kill you twice, your honour stops you? That is why we win, General; no regrets."

"I said I wouldn't kill you." Trexor slowly eased the blade into Trem's shoulder. Blood began to build up, and Trem's eyes widened.

"General, no. Please."

Trem screamed in pain as the blade stopped, hitting bone. Trexor hit the blade with the side of his hand, snapping it in two. "Now you can live as I have." Discarding the knife, Trexor left the room and felt nothing but a dullness within; none of the satisfaction he thought that he would have after dealing with his demon.

A grating sound came from beneath him, and Trexor was thrown to the floor. "Damn..." he muttered. A shelf dropped off of the wall behind him, its contents clattering to the ground. Glass shattered a photoframe fell from its hook. Trexor got up and ran outside, calling for backup.

As he got outside, the grating sound echoed through the area once again, and he flailed his arms to stay upright, but to no avail. When he stood, he looked up to the sky and saw windows shattering, falling glass shards. He dove out of the way, flinging his arms over his head. Moving further away from the skyscraper, he saw that the very top was rocking from side to side. "Get out of the building!" he yelled into his com.

Bricks tumbled down from the building, shattering into dust and clay as they met the floor. Smoke poured out of the ground floor as damaged electric cables met burst gas pipes.

And amidst the smoke and debris, a dust cloud arose as the skyscraper came rushing down to earth.

The quakes had begun.

Chapter 14

Ash 1

Streaks of light dart across his vision, before a bang sounds and he is thrown backwards. Darkness. Specks of light in the distance. So cold. So far away. Darkness. Blurred vision in a busy street, faceless men and women watch him.

He jolted upright as he woke. It was warm here, and the dreams were the only reminder of what cold was to him. His head felt strange, as if he'd been drugged again. Shaking his head, his vision cleared a little and his head felt a bit better. Groaning, he put his head in his hands, before running them through his long blonde mane; it was short before, but his Masters preferred the feral look.

"You okay?"

He looked over to see a slim red-skinned humanoid in the corner of the room, leaning on the sand-brown wall, right next to the iron bars that kept them in their cell.

He sighed, before answering, "Yeah, I'm alright Carnat. Just the dreams again."

He had never seen another like Carnat or at least, he didn't remember them; all of those in his dreams were white or black skinned humans. But Carnat was no human.

"You should ignore the dreams, Ash." Carnat stood and walked over to the food tray and ate a pinkish protein square. "Your memory ain't coming back without a good trigger, the last guy said. And that trigger ain't on Rat'hak."

"I don't want to ignore the dreams; they're my memories." Ash said, his face falling as he did so. "My memories from before. Otherwise my first memory would be watching the last guy – what was his name again? – fight."

"Diin. Curious guy. Got a portion of his memory back; we called him Diin anyways, apparently it weren't his real name. Confronted the guards, demanded to speak to the Masters. So they made him fight that...thing. And...well, you saw what happened to him." Carnat looked haunted at the memory.

"Did you ever have the dreams?"

"No." Carnat answered firmly. "I've always known my past, and I know how to survive in this place. You do what I say, and you end up living."

Ash had to agree with him; so far, he had managed to avoid fighting in the pits by sticking exactly to Carnat's orders. And they were orders, not requests; Carnat would fight with him, but he had no intention of doing so. "You'll get us killed," he'd said, "I'll teach you how to fight." And he did; Ash was now trained with two types of blade and a crossbow; the short blade was his favourite, but Carnat said that Ash was better off using the crossbow for now.

"Do you know when we fight?" Ash snatched a protein square and shoved it into his mouth, before holding his nose as he chewed; it got rid of the taste.

"We should have had our first about a month ago; they're gonna start demanding soon." Carnat looked him in the eyes and asked, "Do you think you're ready?"

Ash nodded. "I think so, yeah."

"Good." Carnat turned away and banged on the bars. "Oi! Guard!"

A humanoid face, albeit with a crushed nose and giant tusks emerging from its lower jaw, answered him with a snort. The Hak'i were not the most articulate of races, but they were one of the strongest and visually imposing. Standing at about 8 foot high, and about the same width, the tusks and eyes were the only parts of their bodies not covered in matted hair; this one's was brown, but most of it was hidden under armour fashioned from the skin and bones of various desert creatures.

"Tell the masters that we will fight now." Carnat spoke condescendingly, before waving the beast away. The beast glared and grunted something at Carnat, but Ash only heard Carnat's sarcastic response.

"Now?" Ash's heart was suddenly beating faster.

"While you're ready, yeah." Carnat smiled and winked. "Don't want them demanding a fight when you're asleep, do you? Now, eat more of that crap before they come."

"Why?" Ash asked, looking at the pile of protein squares.

"May as well be full stomached if we die."

Ash smiled in spite of himself. "I really hope that was a joke."

"Of course it was; you don't want to eat that shit before you die." Carnat walked over to the table and ate another square. "Unfortunately, we ain't got a choice."

The room fell silent for a while and Ash sat on the sandy floor, picking up bunches of sand and let the grains run between his fingers. "You say you know your past. Where you from?"

Carnat opened his mouth to answer, but faltered slightly before hesitantly uttering, "Far away from this place."

"I'm sure I am too. What place in particular?" Carnat's question-dodging had only piqued Ash's interest.

"You ever heard of the Oblivion Gateway?"

"You never told me about that, only the eleven planets in the Empire."

"There are twelve planets in the Empire, and the twelfth is beyond the Oblivion Gateway, in another solar system." Carnat gave a short laugh, as if remembering a good time. "That's where I was born. But I wanted out of that planet, so I came here," he shook his head, "Here! In search of a better life, a more fulfilling one. I helped the Hak'i for decades in the ancient wars; humans, Corlens, Pyrkagia, they all attacked Rat'hak at some point. And look at me now; thrown in a fighting pit for all of Rat'hak to see; entertainment, a slave."

There was silence for a beat, before Ash said, "That's a bit shit."

Carnat sighed. "Yeah, it really is."

"So," Ash asked, curious, "What are you? Species-wise?"

"It really doesn't matter anymore; I'm the last of my kind. Nothing else quite like me." Carnat paused and smiled a sad smile. "When I die, so will my entire species. That's why I never bothered to tell you about my kind, only the others. But, if you really want to know, you can call me an –"

Footsteps approached from outside, distracting Carnat for a moment.

"Call you what?" Ash could see the silhouettes of Hak'i approaching their cell.

Carnat moved away from the door as the Hak'i opened it and whispered to Ash:

"Adjeti."

Chapter 15

Trexor 4

"T-1, come in!" Nothing.

"T-2, come in!" Static.

"T-3, come in!" A brief hiss.

Trexor strode across the wreckage of the skyscraper, not knowing where to start digging. At the ruins' high point, it would still be about half the size of the monolithic structure it once was; Trexor could not search through the entire mountain, and his infrared readers detected no life, or they could not penetrate through the thick rubble. He continued walking, sensor pointed at the ground. Bricks shifted and clattered beneath his feet as if he was walking on snow, and, more than once, he nearly lost his footing. The screams of those elsewhere in the city were alien to him; his first priority was to those in this building, that was his job. All around, other skyscrapers were still falling. Looking up, he saw one building shaking, before breaking in half, the top half carving a deep gash through the adjacent building as it fell. He saw people fall to their deaths, flailing like ragdolls as they fell. But he felt nothing for them. He felt nothing for anyone right now, just the emptiness of failure.

To his right, bricks moved and he heard a muffled cry. Throwing himself down, he tore bricks and wreckage away from the source of the sound, jagged edges reaping blood from his palms. Bricks, plaster, metal, wood, before finally skin. A hand. It clasped around his own, and he pulled up hard. He clenched his teeth and grimaced; he was using his left hand to steady himself and his right to pull, but this twisted his right side and made the blade inside him pain him again. With a roar of pain, he pulled a black-haired woman out of the ruins. In her other arm was what Trexor thought was a bundle of blankets, before realising that it was a small child. The woman looked at him, blood pouring down her face from a gash across her forehead. At least one leg was broken; she couldn't stand. The shirt she wore was torn across the back; obviously she had bent over the child to shield it from the debris.

Trexor bent over to catch his breath again and rubbed his side; he'd have to get that checked out. "Do you know if any others survived?" Trexor panted, barely able to get the words out.

"None on my floor, no." she said softly, unable to pry her eyes away from her son's scared face. "I was in the hallway with one of your troops and a few other families. Then the ceiling came down and...and...they're gone!" She looked at Trexor now, before she said, "And I would be too, if it wasn'' for you. Thank you."

While the words sounded sincere, Trexor knew that the woman did not want to praise him, but wanted time to grieve. "Can you stand?" he asked.

She nodded. "Jus' abou', I think." She tried to stand, using one hand to steady herself, but her legs faltered as she cried out in pain. Trexor caught her before she fell and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Hold onto me and use this," he passed her his sword, "As a crutch for the other side."

Holding the child with one hand and supporting the mother with the other, Trexor walked slowly and carefully back down the mountain. The son watched him with wide blue pools of curiosity, but gave away no other emotion. "What's his name?" Trexor asked; it's a long walk, he thought he may as well try to interact normally with someone.

"Cane," she said, "After his daddy. And I'm Disa."

"General Trexor," Trexor said, acknowledging the hidden question in her upwards intonation. "Shame we couldn't meet in better circumstances." He dreaded to ask the next question. "And where is the father?"

"He went to Narcsia to get some real money for li'l Cane. Got caught up in the storms, and can't leave the planet yet." Disa forced a weak smile. "Probably for the best." She coughed; the dust must be getting to her.

"General!"

Trexor recognised that voice, but he knew that it shouldn't be there. He turned to see a slender man dusting himself off. "How are you still alive, Trem?"

The hatred was obviously clear in his voice, because the assassin put his hands up when he walked over, before he pointed at a vial of green liquid on his belt. "This is some good shit from Quarus; heals you right up." He took a blade out of his pocket. "This is what you left in me earlier and this," he turned and showed them a faint scar on his shoulder, "is what's left." He nodded to Disa and proffered the vial. "Here, take it; two drops is all you need."

Disa dropped Trexor's sword and took the vial, before unscrewing the cap. Under the cap was a dropped-like opening, and she squeezed two drops of fizzing green liquid onto her tongue. Trexor faced Trem. "Why are you helping? Doesn't seem like you."

Trem took the vial back and smiled encouragingly at Disa, who thanked him. "I'm helping because I don't want to see these people die. Despite what you may think, I have morals. I just put them aside for the money that keeps me alive. I'd like to think that we could work well together, you and I, Trexor."

Trexor thought about for a bit, until Disa supported herself and moved away, taking Cane back. "Thank you, Trexor. For everything."

Trexor nodded to her in recognition of her thanks. "I guess we are kind of even, even if you could just heal yourself up. But we could use all the help we can get, by the looks of it." He turned to Disa. "Get somewhere safe. I don't know where, probably the fields on the Tapal border. Now go."

Disa looked at both Trem and Trexor. Her face was covered in dust and scrapes. Her clothes looked as if they had been mauled and blood covered most of her skin. And yet she smiled thankfully; not a happy smile, but one of relief; she and Cane had both survived. "Thank you." She spoke softly, almost a whisper, before turning and walking away.

"Do you think she'll be ok?" Trexor asked.

"I do hope so." Trem replied solemnly.

Silently, they ran towards the next building. On the ground, there was silence aside from the moving debris. In the sky, buildings scraped against one another and fell, but not near Trexor; those had already fallen. He looked up and saw none of the skyline that he had once despised, only a gaping void where nothing would live.

When they reached the next building, they began to dig.

Chapter 16

Ilisa 1

The city of Sutib was very similar to Tapal in its north/south divide, as well its skyline and structure. However, it was a much smaller city and many Raanians probably wondered why Raan needed such a city so close to Tapal, as if it was acting like a little brother. Right now, no-one cared about that.

Ilisa watched Strom's eyes close as she cradled his head. She felt her face fall and her shoulders droop backwards as she collapsed to her knees. Her red eyes tingled, but she could not cry; her tears had all been spent on her brother. Instead, she buried her head in Strom's chest with her eyes closed, desperate to be close to him for the last time.

A crowd was forming a circle around them now, keeping back at a respectful distance. Ilisa paid them no mind; she couldn't care less whether they were Raanian or Xaosian. Her hand found his and she held it tight. She opened her eyes suddenly.

There was a pulse.

Disengaging herself from him, she tore his shirt off and placed her hand on his heart; a slow, but definite beat. "Please, I need a doctor!" She called to the crowd, relieved to see that they were Raanians rather than the enemy.

One man came running forward and took Strom's pulse. "He's alive, but only just; he's gone into a comatose state; his body is near enough dead, but his mind is very much alive."

"Is there anything you can do?" Ilisa feared the worst.

The doctor took a deep breath, before hesitantly saying, "I'm sorry my dear, but the hospital is full to bursting point; we literally cannot help him."

Ilisa stood, slowly and deliberately until she looked into the doctor's eyes. "You cannot help him?" The doctor shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion. "He helped you! All of you!" She gestured to the crowd with one hand as her voice grew louder and more shrill. "My brother died for you! I fought for you! And now Strom here has to die too?" Many members of the crowd began to look uncomfortable. "I didn't have to fight today! They did, but I didn't; I, as a woman, fought in the air and in space, alongside my male comrades to try and save you all! And now you damn him?"

The doctor backed away from Ilisa slowly. "We're not damning him, but we're not damning anyone else either. Especially with the quakes."

"Quakes?"

The doctor briefly looked down, before looking back up at Ilisa. "Yes, the quakes. There have been a bout twenty earthquakes across the continent in random areas; we could be next. Tapal has been hit pretty badly; the North at least has been levelled."

The doctor continued talking, but Ilisa heard none of it. The North was where Strom had lived; his family and friends were likely dead. Ilisa's friends, mainly in the South, may be okay, but she wasn't going to head back to Tapal just to see them. She looked down at Strom at her feet and, with a tugging feeling in her chest, realised that he was all she truly had anymore.

She turned to the doctor. "Are there any interplanetary ships I can use here?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we're using all that we've got to evacuate the coasts."

Ilisa had almost forgotten about the burning Sea of Oil. "Damn it..." She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration; she had never felt so helpless.

There was a bustle in the crowd. "Excuse me", "hey", "watch it, you". One man stepped to the front of the crowd and approached Ilisa. "You looking for an interplanetary craft?" He asked Ilisa.

Her heart began to beat faster again. "Yes, I am."

"They got some ancient ones up on Viran. We don't use them because apparently they're structurally unsafe," Ilisa heard the implied quotation marks around the words, "but they still fly. I reckon you could get as far as New Orbus if you're a good pilot."

The Viran; Raan's moon. The Stinger could take her that far, or she hoped so anyway. "Are you sure about these ships?" Her heart was still racing.

"Certain, yeah." The man nodded.

Ilisa picked up Strom and carried him to her Stinger, where Olaf's corpse was waiting. She placed her hand to her mouth at the sight; she had forgotten how disfigured it was. Setting Strom down, she opened the cockpit and pulled Olaf out, placing him gently next to Strom. She turned to the doctor. "Do you have a morgue nearby?"

The doctor nodded. "Is that your brother?"

Ilisa looked down at Olaf's thin and once-tan features. Now they were gaunt and pale, a ghastly incarnation of her brother. "He was my brother. Olaf Cahdun." She looked up again. "Please keep him in the morgue until I return." Her voice took a more pleading tone, and it wavered as if she was going to break down. But she had to be strong; for Strom's sake.

The doctor nodded. "We will, don't worry."

"Thank you."

Without looking at the crowd, who were slowly backing away, she carefully placed Strom's body into the back of the Stinger, bending him into a slouched seating position. She climbed into the pilot's seat and closed the cockpit, signalling to the crowd to back away.

And with a throaty roar, the Stinger lifted off and shot into the night sky. Her heart raced; there was still a chance of saving her lover.

Chapter 17

Foton 2

Hangar bays in any building are usually rather drab and dreary; they don't need to be fancy and the only thing that cleans up the dust and dirt from the floor are the boots of the pilots walking that short distance from the door to their ship. The Lord's Hangar, however, was rather extravagant. To match the Lord's robe, the walls had spiralling patterns set in red and gold plating atop polished walls. The lightbox-ceiling replaced the strip lights in the standard hangars, and the light reflected off of the polished walls and the heated floor tiles.

In the centre of the hangar bay was the Lord's ship; Watchman. Unlike the jagged angles and straight edges of the Xaosian Dominion, the Watchman was sleek and curved, shaped more like a flattened sphere than anything else. This disc-like ship could hold over one-hundred crew members, and it usually did so; most were guards trained in ship-to-ship combat made possible by the complex arrays of hidden weaponry hidden under panels in the ship. In combat, the panels would slide away after the weapon-bays became airlocked.

A Scaliman, yellow in colour, stood by the ship, waiting for Foton and Devilclash. Foton greeted him with a salute. "Nixiin, good to see you again." Foton extended a hand, which Nixiin took and shook.

"And you too, Foton." Nixiin smiled politely. "Ah, the Pyrkagias approaches! I've heard a fair bit about you, Devilclash."

It took Foton a moment to remember that Devilclash had not actually left the Capital with Tahkshi before, so had not had the chance to meet Nixiin, who was in charge of this hangar.

"Only good things, I hope." Foton liked Devilclash, but her flat and humourless drone of a voice irritated him whenever he heard it.

"Mostly." Nixiin smiled and showed Devilclash her chambers on the ship's map. "You still waiting for Tahkshi?"

"Yeah, twit likes to keep me waiting." It was no secret among Tahkshi's personal staff that he was, despite his media persona, a bit of a pompous arsehole.

Nixiin chuckled. "You realise he could've been right around the corner when you said that."

Foton suppressed a natural smile at that. "I would have heard him."

Nixiin considered this for a moment. "Yeah, you would've."

Foton cocked his head. "Here he comes."

Fast footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the hangar. "That's a damn good ear you got there, Foton." Nixiin observed.

"Foton, Nixiin, get a move on!" Tahkshi strode into the hangar, escorted by two large Hak'i. He turned to them. "Go back to your posts now." He continued walking, unbuckling his Lord's robe as he did so, revealing red and gold shirt and trousers underneath. "I'm going to my chambers, call if you need me."

"We won't need you." Foton said under his breath. "Nixiin, I'll see you in a day or so." Foton walked briskly to the ship and up the ramp, which clanged beneath his steel soles; before coming to the hangar, he had changed into his light-combat armour. This armour consisted of the steel boots as well as a steel chestplate. However, his gloves and trousers were made from a metal fibre, creating a thick mesh which should stop oncoming blows and low-calibre bullets. At his waist, a holster held a small pistol with both a stun and kill setting. A knife was placed on the inside of each shin. Unlike the other guards, Foton also attached a retractable blade onto his wrist; these were technically illegal, but Foton chose to wear them to give him an edge in hand-to-hand combat. He didn't think anyone else knew about them, which suited him just fine.

When he got inside, he headed up to the ship's command hub. There he stood on a bridge overlooking banks of computers and their operators, both human and Irinian. "Everyone on board?"

A human near to him by the name of Jeok replied. "Life sign readings show that, yes everybody is on board."

Foton nodded. "Excellent. Set course for Buun."

Foton stood and waited for an Irinian – Foton thought he was called Wrotha – to respond. "Ready sir."

"Call me Foton." Foton abhorred being referred to as higher than the others, when they are doing more work than he. "Prepare for take off."

He heard the hiss of the landing gear folding up and the airtight locks sealing. Then the engines thrummed louder and louder as they built up energy, before the hangar bay doors opened and the ship slowly manoeuvred out of them. As soon as it was out, the engines went silent; they were only loud when warming up. The ship angled itself towards the sky, and lumbered slowly upwards until it reached the upper atmosphere. The wall in front of Foton turned transparent and he could see the darkness of space outside. "Engage the L-Drive."

Stars and space zoomed past the ship as it became faster than light itself.

Foton sat down in his chair on the bridge and logged on to his computer. While he was tempted to check for news on Raan, he knew he shouldn't; he was meant to be in charge. He checked the Watchman's structural integrity and found it at one-hundred percent, just as he expected. Surprisingly, he found himself bored; he was never usually bored. There was always something to do, something to check. But now, he had a team doing those jobs for him and his principle wanted to be alone. He knew why he felt uneasy though; Devilclash's disbelief about his time on Buun. He knew he should never have mentioned it; his past always led to trouble. The minutes passed in silence.

"Foton!"

He turned to see Tahkshi walking towards him. "What do you want?"

Tahkshi looked irritable at Foton's tone, although Foton thought that he should be used to it by now. "How long is it to Buun?"

Foton shrugged. "I don't know." He turned to the crew beneath the bridge. "How long is it to Buun?"

Wrotha turned around and said, "About 10 minutes; it takes about 25 to get there from New Orbus."

Foton was always amazed by how fast L-Drive travel was; a matter of minutes, or hours, from New Orbus to anywhere else in the Twelve, aside from Oblivion. Light from the Sol took only eight minutes to get to Rat'hak, and about three hours from Rat'hak to Buun. New Orbus was rather close to Buun, and it led Foton to think about how Orbus's climate may have been like before it was wiped out. He presumed that it was a tropical landscape like Buun's, complete with that sticky, uncomfortable heat.

"Good." Tahkshi answered. "I may just stay here for a bit; I do like to watch the stars."

Foton nodded; the one thing that they shared. "They are beautiful."

"They are."

Silence as they looked at the streaks of white and silver across the screen; the stars became distorted due to the speed.

Something hit the ship.

Foton tumbled out of the chair, which then fell on him. He threw it off of himself and located Tahkshi; he was still on the floor. "What the hell's going on?"

"Something's knocked us out of L-Speed!" One of the crew members had got back up into their chair.

Foton yelled into his com, "Everyone to battle stations!" Along the exterior of the Watchman, panels slid open, revealing an array of cannons around the entire rim of the ship. Foton looked out of the screen and saw a white ship dart by. He didn't recognise the design; it must be new. Without warning, the ship rocked again. This time, Foton grabbed a railing to support himself. Proffering his hand, he pulled Tahkshi to his feet. "What was that?"

Another crash, another hiss of the air-seal; a quickly forming gel which solidifies into an airtight solid is secreted from the walls when they are breached. A voice came over the com. "The white ships are crashing into the sides of the ship, take them out!"

"Boarding parties or kamikaze?" Foton called back over the com.

"Boarding-" The com was cut off: dead. Foton had no time to mourn.

"We need to get to the escape pods!" Foton yelled. "Everyone go!"

A door hissed open and two armoured Xaosians were revealed. They were flanking a white being, the species of which Foton couldn't place; it was humanoid, but with an ivory exoskeleton covering its body and distorting some features. Foton couldn't care less. He drew his pistol, set it to kill and shot at the alien.

The bullet stopped in mid-air between its fingers. The alien examined it briefly, before discarding it. It drew its own weapon from a holster on its side and shot back. The bullet narrowly missed Foton as he threw himself to the ground. Screams shattered Foton's wish for silence, but the Xaosians soon granted that wish, each bullet silencing one of the crew members. Foton dragged Tahkshi along the bridge to the other door. Tahkshi tried to keep up, but Foton easily outpaced him. There was a sound behind them. Foton twisted round. The alien was there, just a couple of standards away. Foton put his pistol up and shot the alien three times in the head. The alien slid to the left; the bullets missed. Nothing should be that fast Foton thought, before realising that his gun was useless. He ran to the alien, hidden blade primed.

The alien grabbed his arm and threw him off the bridge and onto the computers below. Foton recovered just in time to see the alien shoot Tahkshi three times in the head.

Dead.

He had failed.

Chapter 18

Devilclash 2

The ship rocked and Devilclash was thrown from the thin-mattressed standard-issue bed onto the cold hard floor. Most of the bugs righted themselves and stayed in mid-air, but the Hive-Stone clattered to the ground. Righting themselves, the bugs swarmed around the Hive-Stone once more, picking it up and placing it in back in to its original position.

She heard shrieks coming from outisde her chambers. Her door slid open with a quiet hiss and she stepped through as a man ran by, straight into her arm. Panicking, the man flailed his own arms, trying to swat the bugs out of his way, before Devilclash was able to reform her arm. "Look where you're going." Her voice did not lack reproach. The man looked back, but continued running away.

Gunfire, and the man was torn apart in front of her, bullets thudded into the walls.

Xaosians. Silver-skinned, scaled monstrosities. At first, they seemed similar to the Scalimen, but the Xaosians had no tail, no emotional tells, and their gargantuan hands were designed by evolution for violence only. In fact, the hands of the Xaosian were the only areas not covered by their black combat armour. When they saw Devilclash. They briefly aimed, and fired.

Attaching the Hive-Stone to two bugs, she decomposed herself, allowing the hive to become the swarm that it should be. Some bullets took out some bugs, and Devilclash felt not a pain, but as if part of herself was lost; she reeled with the feeling. Reaching the Xaosians, she had the bugs swarm onto them. They tried to swat the bugs away, but hundreds of tiny mouths ate through the Xaosian's armour, aided by a natural acid, before climbing inside and devouring the Xaosian. One was targeted in the helmet, his eye being a passage for the bugs to destroy his brain; the other had his chest targeted, heart devoured.

Taking on human form once more, she looked down at the two Xaosians. Obviously here to kill Lord Tahkshi.

She opened herself to the Swarm and relayed these memories to the rest of the Pyrkagia. As she did so, she felt the shock and horror of the others who could see it. A visualisation of the Swarm, which she held in her mind, flashed a dark red as the shock turned to anger; how could the Xaosians do this? Curious, she tried to find the Pyrkagias she had detected on Raan before, but she found no sign of life. She delved deeper, swimming through the memories and eventually found the one she was looking for; while the body was gone, the memories remain forever.

Buildings fall as the ground shakes; an aftershock of the Xaosians mega-weapon. Crevasses open and swallow a building. My building. We fall for an eternity, but some of us live when the building stops. Then come these...things. Silver skin, always shifting. They're on us now. Fighting is useless.

Devilclash detached herself from the Swarm, breathing quickly as she did so. Creatures in the core of Raan? Silver shifting skin? She thought she knew what they were, but they were all dead, surely. She put it to the back of her mind for now; I'll discuss it with the Primary when I get to Buun.

She dissipated herself once more and made her way to Tahkshi's chambers; protecting him was her first priority. When she reached the chambers, alarms around the ship were ringing and red lights were flashing in the corridors. Luckily, she didn't bump into any more Xaosians. She gently pushed the door to his chambers open. It was very similar to Devilclash's, just slightly larger and with a rail-desk in the corner; the Lords were supposed to have plain, nondescript rooms so as not to make it obvious where their chamber was. "Tahkshi?" She called; it looked empty, but he could have been hiding. When she received no response, she realised that the only logical place that he would have gone to would be the bridge.

So she reformed her human shape and ran to the bridge to the sound of squealing alarms and gunfire.

Chapter 19

Foton 3

Groggy from his fall, Foton shook his head to clear the mist. Gunshots sounded around him, instantly killing their victims thanks to the unwavering aim of the Xaosians. Foton grudgingly admired their skills. He looked around at the corpses around him; he was lucky, the Xaosians obviously thought that the alien had killed him.

Wrotha stared up at him. Dead.

He felt a pang of guilt; he might have been able to save some of them if he hadn't been so preoccupied with getting Tahkshi out of there. And now he was dead anyway. He had failed to protect the principle.

But he could try and avenge him.

The alien was still on the bridge, surveying the Xaosians' work with a look of what appeared to be disgust in its barely-visible eyes. As a Xaosian passed Foton, he leapt up and jammed his hidden blade through its helmet; the diamond blade easily plunged through the Xaosian's head. Aware that the other Xaosian would probably be bringing his gun up to fire, Foton pulled a knife from his right shin and threw it in its direction. He heard a thud as the Xaosian went down. Seeing a Xaosian X-46 gun on the floor, Foton picked it up and swung it in the alien's direction. He set it to projectile-stun and swung it round to aim at the alien; even if it could evade bullets, it shouldn't be able to dodge the static-charges.

He became aware of a soft clapping from the bridge. "Well fought." Part of the alien's exoskeleton shifted and pulled itself back, revealing red skin around its mouth.

Foton fired at the alien.

One shot. The alien jerked to the right, and the static-charge crackled as it hit the wall behind.

Second shot. After sliding to the right, the alien brought its pistol around and shot it down, before briefly aiming at Foton's weapon and firing.

Foton dropped the gun as it sparked and emitted smoke. The alien holstered its own weapon and leapt from the bridge to the control room below. Foton sized it up; it was about half a standard taller than him, and a little bit broader too. He knew that it was much faster than him, so he assumed that it would be stronger.

It lashed out, fist connected with Foton's shoulder. Foton stumbled back a few paces. His shoulder felt cold and numb: dislocated. As the alien swung another fist, Foton jerked out of the way, grabbing his dislocated arm and shoving it forcefully back into its socket, biting back the pain.

Foton fought back now. He swung his fist at the alien, drawing his hidden blade as he did so. But the alien saw the blade's reflection, even in this dull lighting. It grabbed Foton's wrist and squeezed. "A diamond blade..." The alien smiled. "Unbreakable, diamond, isn't it?" Its exoskeleton seemed to shift slightly, before taking on a shinier tone. Without warning, it brought its free hand down on the blade, cleaving it in two. "Only diamond breaks diamond." Foton looked at the blade, stunned at what the alien had done. "And we can be anything." It looked into Foton's eyes. "Remember that, Assassin."

It released Foton, who stumbled away from it. "What are you?"

"The name is Otor," Foton listened to the voice; masculine surely, "and my kind built this Empire-"

"-And destroyed it."

Foton looked around to locate the voice; Devilclash was by the door, walking in slowly. "I thought your kind was dead. Adjeti."

Foton's eyes widened at this; of course this alien was an Adjeti; he'd read about them before, studied them even. How could he be so blind? He finished his brief berating, remembering that the reason he didn't recognise it straight away was the fact that the entire race was wiped out. Or so the history books said. Obviously a few survived.

"Pyrkagias." Otor spat the words out. "We both know that the Adjeti didn't destroy Orbus."

Devilclash's bugs arranged themselves in an obscure way, as if they were confused. "The Swarm says you did. History books say you did. Are we to trust the word of a murderous outsider?"

"Murderous?" Otor gestured to the corpses around him. "You think I would do this if I had a choice about it? No. Your kind has driven me to desperation; I work for the Xaosians for one reason only: to restore my race."

"They're all dead. Oblivion was burnt to a crisp." Foton interjected forcefully; everyone knew the story of Ardican, the human who sacrificed himself to use the World-Burner to destroy Oblivion, the Adjeti homeworld, after their attack on Orbus.

"Are they?" Otor smiled, as if humouring them. He turned back to Devilclash. "When my kind return, you will pay for what you've done. Show the Swarm what I'm saying, and let them fear the days to come."

"I could kill you right now." Devilclash hissed, anger breaking her usual monotone. Foton knew this was bad; the two species were always enemies, but Otor's accusations only forced the tension higher.

"What's stopping you?" When he stopped speaking, Otor's exoskeleton snapped back around his mouth; a defence mechanism.

Devilclash leapt at him, the bugs squealing. Foton felt a primal fear rise up inside him, but he ignored it. Otor darted to the side and raised his hand. The exoskeleton covering his wrist twisted around and extended, forming a cone around his hand, with a thin cylinder sticking out the end of it. Like a barrel of a gun.

The bullet of the organic was a pellet of compressed blood, forced into a rock-hard state. It smashed into Devilclash's Hive-stone, knocking it out of formation with the rest of the bugs. Foton grabbed Otor's organic-gun-arm and wrenched it forward. Otor stumbled slightly, losing his balance. Foton drew his other knife and stabbed it into his eye. With no exoskeleton other his eyes, the blade went in deep, spewing thick red blood over the ivory around it. As Foton pulled the blade out, Otor fell to his knees, before falling face-first onto the metal ground.

Devilclash reformed herself, but Foton could tell hat she was in pain; he didn't know how he knew, but he did. Maybe it was some sort of instinct. "Nice one." Her voice was distorted from the norm.

Foton ran over to one of the still-functioning computers and ran a check on the personnel aboard the ship; everyone was registered just like the bodyguards were in the Spire. Running a ship-wide search, he found only two; his and Devilclash's. He felt no grief at this, just a pang of annoyance; evidently the guards weren't trained well enough. He quickly checked the engines and found that they had been severely damaged by the Xaosians' attack; the Watchman wasn't going anywhere. Next, Foton ran a life-form scan on the ship. Twenty-seven recognised life-forms were aboard the ship; twenty-five Xaosians. From the image on-screen, he could see that they were retreating back to their ships.

"We've gotta get to the escape pods." Foton announced. Devilclash agreed, following his long, fast paces through the corridors. "So, what do you tell the Primary when you get to Buun?"

"The Xaosians have waged war on the Empire, and an Adjeti was helping them in return for their help in somehow restoring the Adjeti." Devilclash paused. "You said "you". Don't you mean "we"?"

"No." Foton shook his head. "There is nothing I can do on Buun that will help in the war. I'm going home, to Prauw. I'm not a bodyguard, really. I'm an assassin, and I'm almost certain you suspected that. I can rally the other assassins to fight, take down Xaosian leaders. You can do the same for the Pyrkagia."

Devilclash was silent for a few seconds, until they reached the escape pods. Only two had been ejected, which made Foton feel a little better; at least two people had escaped. "So, your journey to Buun was for an assassination?" Devilclash asked warily.

Foton gave an affirmative; he remembered Buun. Smuggler. Fifty-thousand Credits. "Had you figured it out?"

"I had suspicions. Your hidden blade gave it away."

"And yet no-one else paid attention." Foton gave a small smile in spite of himself. He moved over to the first escape pod and opened the hatch. "I guess this is goodbye then." He extended his hand to her. She looked confused at first, before she took the hand and tried to shake it. "Nice try." Foton commended her on her effort.

She gave a small smile. "Thanks." Her voice took on a solemn tone. "Goodbye, Foton. I hope we meet again."

"So do I." He climbed into the pod, and reached for the door.

Something smacked into his hand and he was immediately in pain. He looked around to see Otor, running along the corridor. Foton's heart stopped; how is he still alive? Then he saw Otor's wounded eye; it was growing back even as he watched. Devilclash looked at the Adjeti, before slamming the hatch down on Foton's escape pod.

Otor ducked under Devilclash's wild attack, and grabbed the Hive-stone. With his free hand, he ejected Foton's escape pod and threw the Hive-stone out after it, casting Devilclash into the unknown void. Foton could only watch; there was nothing he could do for her now. He had read somewhere that the Pyrkagia could survive in space by turning the bugs to stone. He hoped that was true.

Out of the small window, he saw the disc-like structure of Watchman being pummelled by missiles, before it fell apart in space. No sound, no flames.

He punched in co-ordinates for Prauw and the pod changed course. Looking at his hand; he found that, while it felt fractured, it seemed to be fine. The only strange thing he noted was that it was shaking violently.

Locked in an airtight box, drifting in an airless vacuum, after being attacked by a long-dead member of a genocidal race and having his principle killed, Foton felt more scared than he had his whole life.

Chapter 20

Tors 3

The clock struck past midnight and Tors cheered, waking Pandora from her shallow slumber. It was Evacuation Day at last. Tors walked over to the window, before he sat in front of it. At this time of night, he couldn't see anything, but he figured that any ships would have landing lights on.

"You're not seriously going to sit there for the rest of the night, are you?" Pandora's voice contained more than a hint of ridicule.

"Yes. Maybe. I dunno." Tors shrugged. "All I know is, I wanna be ready when they come. Where's Emola?"

Pandora looked over at Emola. "Sleeping like a baby."

"Surprised either of you could sleep after seeing that...thing." Tors shuddered at the thought of it. He remembered its shriek, and remembered the grating sensation that passed through his body as it did so.

Pandora knelt down next to Tors. "Look. Maybe there was something. Maybe it was just our imaginations, or a natural phenomenon-"

"-there was nothing natural about that thing."

"Well, even if it's alive, its natural." Pandora rolled her eyes. "But maybe it wasn't real."

"It really was, though." Tors hissed. "You know it. Deny it all you like, you know it."

There was a flash from outside, followed by sudden silence. The winds dropped again. Tors's scales shifted darker. "It's back."

"What?" Pandora seemed irritated.

"The winds died before, and it came for us." Tors was genuinely afraid, his scales shifting between various shades of dark red.

Pandora put a hand on his back. "Tors, calm down." Her voice seemed both soothing and irritable. A green flash from outside took them both by surprise. Tors moved closer to Pandora and she reluctantly put her arms around him, like a mother with a child. "Maybe they were real..." Pandora whispered, more to herself than to Tors.

Outside, green wisps of wind formed together in the serpentine shape Tors knew the creatures to be. He leant towards the window, both afraid and fascinated by this being. Its...head?...opened up, as it did before, but this time it didn't screech. This time was more of a whisper, as if it was talking to something else. This was when Tors noticed other wisps in the air.

More serpentine figures formed around the original and converged upon it. The whispering grew louder, mixed voices overlapping. Tors thought he could hear words in the winds, but he knew that it was just his imagination.

"The hell are they?" Pandora asked, more of a rhetorical question than anything else.

"What's going on?" Emola sounded sleepy and was rubbing his eyes as he came to the window; obviously the sounds outside had woken him. Then he saw the beings. "There's more of those things? Damn."

Tors realised that Emola must be too half-asleep to care about these thing, especially as they did no harm before. Maybe, Tors thought, they come with all storms, but we can't see them. He noticed the creatures moving over to the decaying statue of Ardican in the town square. Craning his neck, he could just about see them as they separated and formed a circle around the statue. "There's eight of them now."

"Yup." Emola was still non-committal and vaguely dismissive.

Seven moved back, widening the circle, but one stayed in place. As Tors watched, it leaned steadily backwards, before lurching forward. As it did so, there was a flash of blue, like lightning, from its head. Tors looked away as it flashed, and when he looked again, the Ardican statue was cinders. Even in his shock, he felt Pandora's recoil. Her arms moved off of him and she stood up and stared outside. Even Emola was shaken out of his stupor. "My god..."

The offending creature shrieked, before decomposing into the wind. One other creature seemed to look at the cinders, before it lifted them into its own body. The others did the same, gathering the ashes into themselves. The ashes disappeared, but the winds grew darker, larger and somehow stronger. "Is this some sort of...feeding?" Tors asked, as if anyone else would know the answer.

"Looks like it." Pandora was squinting, to try and see them more clearly. Her hair was wild, but mostly still.

As quickly as they came, the creatures disappeared, one by one.

The wind and rain returned, but not as strong as before. They sat for hours, barely speaking to one another, but just sharing a silent hope. Their hopes were answered hours later. Lights burned through the dark-grey sky, illuminating the battered house. In unison, they ran to the window and watched the giant cuboid-like evacuation ships land. Battling the winds, agents barged into houses and gently pulled people from their homes. Some people grabbed small items, mementos of a time gone. Neither Tors, Pandora nor Emola bothered to grab anything. As Tors ran up the metal ramp into the evacuation ship, he looked back out at Narcsia and his destroyed town. A pang of sorrow tugged at his chest; he remembered when it was beautiful, just months ago.

Putting that past behind him, he dragged himself aboard the ship, ready for a new and better life.

Chapter 21

Ilisa 2

The Stinger's three feet descended as it touched down, locking onto grey rock. Slipping into her spacesuit, and clamping one over the prone Strom, she opened the cockpit. Even through the heated spacesuit, she could feel the chill, which set her shivering. Dust on the ground rose up as her feet connected with it, and floated in the air like a small cloud, obscuring her vision. She hated the helmet she had to wear; it restricted vision from her peripherals. To Ilisa, this was blinding and, even though she was almost certain that there would be no-one else on Viran, it set her on high alert.

The station on Viran was simple in terms of design; a cube, with four spiralling towers surrounding it. The spiralling towers actually fed solar energy into the power station below the surface; Ilisa wondered if it still functioned fully. A circular hatch was in place of a door, and Ilisa climbed through as the hatch screeched closed. In front of her, another hatch awaited, but this one was translucent; presumably it was once transparent, but the dust got in and marred it permanently.

The other hatch opened and Ilisa climbed through. It closed with a hiss; airtight. While this should have meant that the station had an artificial atmosphere, Ilisa didn't trust it; it had been abandoned for far too long. And yet, it didn't look abandoned at all. Bright strip-lights illuminated the corridors, and Ilisa could see her reflection in the polished metal counters.

The only two sounds in the station were Ilisa's boots and the whirring of various machines. Endless corridors led to an almost-infinite amount of small side-rooms, containing either computers or weapons of a lost era. She stumbled around the station for what seemed like an age, never really knowing what was around the corner. Her heart was pounding, but her mind was surprisingly clear; she was focused on only one goal.

The corridor opened into a vast chamber; the shipyard. The walls were bland, but covered in burns thanks to the old fusion engines. Over time, an alcove in the wall had fallen in, throwing shards of metal over the concrete floor. She assumed that the wires had once sparked, but they just hung limp. She slowly entered the chamber, noting how differently her footfalls sounded in this chamber.

The ships were, as the man had said, ancient. Ilisa could see that as soon as they were in sight. The ancient vessels were covered in pock-marks and scratches from old battles, and many were actually broken; just heaps of metal arranged in a cuboid, compared to modern vessels. Despite that, she couldn't help but admire them, like one admires an antique. These were obviously from around the dawn of the Adjeti Empire, hundreds, maybe thousands, of years ago; the first vehicles used for interplanetary travel.

The way the ship's hatch opened felt exactly the same as the larger modern ships, and the layout inside was near enough the same, if not more cramped. This was a four-man vessel, she saw, but three would have been a squeeze. The controls felt familiar, somehow, despite them being in an entirely different layout. She gripped the lever, pressing the "signal" button, which sent a signal to open the shipyard roof. It slid open, revealing the star-filled void above her. The fusion engine roared, and the ship yearned for the sky.

Ilisa exited the ship, allowing the engines to boot up. Working her way back through the station, she knew her path now; get Strom, put him in the ship, and fly to New Orbus as fast as possible.

She couldn't afford any delays, and she broke into a desperate run.
Chapter 22

Cinradahs 2

"...and Sol has been emitting an unusual amount of solar flares as of late, worrying scientists. Back to our breaking news: Xaosians have reportedly declared war on..."

The screen belted out the Empire News over, but it was only Saiun who was listening. The Quaren stood at the door to Cinradahs's office, while its owner sat in his chair staring at the screen. But Cinradahs heard nothing of what the Scaliman anchorman said; he was too occupied with his own thoughts.

"Solar flares." Saiun raised his eyebrows. "Fun..."

Cinradahs broke his vigil. "Yeah, we don't need to worry about them."

"Scientists are worried." Saiun said, with a cheeky grin.

Cinradahs snorted. "They're always worried about something or other. Last week, it was the blips in the Empire Network." Similar to the primitive wi-fi, the Empire Network was a web which linked every internet-enabled device across the Empire.

"To be fair, we don't know what that was." Saiun muttered.

"Maybe not, but remember the whole "stars going out" débâcle?" Cinradahs waved it all aside. "Scientists, for all their smarts, are pretty stupid."

Footsteps clattered towards the door, and Yuki entered. She gave a cursory nod to both Saiun and Cinradahs, before asking, "Anything from Raan?"

"No," Cinradahs sighed. "As we told you earlier, The Dominion has left according to our software, but the planet is still under heavy bombardment. We also told you that we'd fetch you whenever we had news."

Yuki seemed to deflate upon hearing this; her shoulders sagged and her chin fell. She shook her head. "Damn this all," she muttered, "Raan doesn't deserve this."

"No planet deserves an invasion." Saiun interjected.

Yuki rounded on him, bringing a finger pointing up between his eyes. "Xaos does!" She yelled, her face twisting itself into a distorted portrait of madness. She turned to Cinradahs. "You need to stop this."

Cinradahs stood, and put a hand on Yuki's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he genuinely was; his own problems with the ruler of Raan were put aside for now, "but I can't until Lord Tahkshi commands me. And he went to get the support of the Pyrkagia."

Yuki leant back on the door frame and let out a sigh, before sliding down to the floor, sitting with her knees bent. Saiun slid down to join her and gave her a small smile. "We'll get it done. Don't worry."

She raised her eyebrows briefly, before falling into silence. Saiun glanced at Cinradahs, who gestured at him, and then at her. Saiun shrugged, and Cinradahs ignored him.

Everyone's attention was caught when Cinradahs's personal-com rang. Brow furrowed with intrigue, Cinradahs answered it. "Cinradahs here."

"The Watchman is destroyed." Even through the distortion, Cinradahs could make out Foton's voice.

"Foton? Is that you?" Saiun and Yuki walked over to listen to what he had to say.

"Yes. I survived the attack." The transmission paused. "It was the Xaosians, they...they killed everyone but Devilclash and I."

"And Tahkshi?" Cinradahs's heart raced in his chest like a caged beast.

"Dead. But not by Xaosian, but by-" a crackle of static roared over the end of the sentence.

"By what?" Cinradahs asked. "By what?"

But the message was over.

"Did we get a recording?" Cinradahs gestured to Saiun, who quickly checked.

"Yes sir."

"Clean the static out." Cinradahs demanded, in a more powerful tone than his usual. Saiun bowed, before heading down to a tech-room.

Yuki was the first to address the issue. "So, he's dead? What now?"

Cinradahs grabbed the local-com and punched in the code for the New Orban Shipyards. "They killed the Lord. Now we retaliate."

Chapter 23

Ash 2

Like the prisoners they were, Ash and Carnat were put in chains and marched through sandy chambers and tunnels; the building, like so many others on Rat'hak, was actually below ground, to allow for moderate protection from the sandstorms. Upon hearing of this, Ash had thought that the tunnels would be dark and dreary, but they were as well lit as the chambers themselves.

"Carnat." Ash whispered to his companion.

"What?" Carnat hissed back.

"Where are we going?"

A Hak'i looked at Ash and jabbed the butt-end of a spear into his belly. Ash's breath left him, and he doubled over, grabbing Carnat for support. The guard laughed. "He's lasting not long, eh?" The others laughed too, even as Ash dragged himself back up; it wasn't that the blow hurt, but it was unexpected.

Carnat looked down at him. "They're taking us to fight. In the arena."

Ash stared straight ahead, giving no visible reaction. He knew that it would come eventually, but he didn't expect it to be so sudden. He cursed Carnat; this was his fault. As his stomach groaned, he wished he'd eaten more Protein Squares. He didn't want to die on an empty stomach; at least he could give the cleaners work when they have to clean his final death-shit off the bloody floor.

The tunnel opened up into a huge oval-shaped room; the arena. The floor was sand, streaked with suspicious red stains, and all around the edges were tiers and tiers of seats, where hundreds of Hak'i sat and waited for the fight to begin. The guards unlocked his and Carnat's chains, and shoved them into the arena.

A heavy, steel door swung shut behind them, and Ash heard the clunk of a lock.

"Shit..." Ash patted the sides of his thighs in a vague attempt to stave off the itch of fear and desperation. "Carnat, what do we do?"

Carnat gestured for him to follow, and Ash did so, until they reached a large rack. On the rack, was every kind of weapon Ash remembered, and more. Carnat reached up and passed him a black crossbow. It felt heavy in his hand, but lighter than the ones Carnat had made him use. Ash reached for a short blade, but Carnat batted his hand down. "You stay back. And try not to shoot me with that thing."

Carnat walked away from the rack without choosing a weapon. "What are you doing?" Ash asked, "You can't win without a weapon."

Carnat shrugged. "That's what you think." He faced upwards to where a box of three seats stuck out from the rest. "Oh, Dominort!" He roared up to the Hak'i Dominort, or leader. "I am the warrior, Carnat, and this is Ash, a rising champion. May the sands bless you, my lord."

Ash could just about see the Dominort stand, wider and taller than any other Hak'i. He raised a hand, before swinging it down. A horn blew out.

A tugging thought came into Ash's head. "Carnat. What are we fighting?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

A door on the other side of the arena opened and a Hak'i entered. In one hand, it held a whip, and in the other a shield.

"Don't we get armour?" Ash asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"Expensive way to dress a beast's meal."

"Ah."

The whip-wielding Hak'i walked backwards into the arena, leading something with it. The thing shrieked, before impaling the Hak'i with a leg. The Hak'i slid slowly down the leg, leaving a bloody smear down it.

"What is that?" Ash backed away from the twelve-legged beast.

Carnat thought for a moment. "Duodecinid. From what I remember, they like to use their legs as their main weapons-"

"Yup."

"-but, you see the body is made of two pods and a head? The back pod has a stinger, and the head...well, it has fangs."

"Right." Ash's legs wanted to surrender now.

Carnat noticed, and placed a hand on Ash's bare shoulder. "Just stay back, I'll deal with it. Shoot it if you can."

"Right."

Carnat turned to face the beast and walked towards it as it shook the Hak'i's carcass off. Carnat looked back at Ash and nodded to him. Ash raised the crossbow and fired at the Duodecinid.

The beast turned as the bolt clattered uselessly to the ground next to it. Ash swore under his breath, and the panicked look on Carnat's face summed up how he felt. Carnat ran back to Ash as the Duodecinid pursued, moving all too gracefully for a beast of its size and shape. From the centre of Carnat's chest, an ivory coating spread over his body, forming a complete exoskeleton, leaving only eyes uncovered. Ash backed away as Carnat's arm twisted into a cylinder and a red pellet blasted out of it, tearing through the Duodecinid's head, splitting one of its eyes open. Carnat threw Ash aside, knocking him into the outer wall. The audience roared as Ash's head hit the wall and he winced in pain.

"KILL IT! KILL IT!"

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

The Duodecinid shrieked as purple blood and orange pus erupted from its ruptered eye. Carnat walked around the wounded creature and spread his arms wide, proclaiming his future victory; Ash thought he was just vying for attention. The beast reared up behind him, but as it brought a leg down on Carnat, he twisted out of the way and grabbed the leg. Ash could only just make out where Carnat's exoskeleton shifted from being a makeshift-gun into a makeshift-blade, as Carnat sliced through the Duodecinid's leg with one smooth sweep. It shrieked again, stumbling and falling down. Ash heard Carnat whisper something, before he plunged the severed leg through the creature's head, ending its life.

Ash got up and walked over to Carnat, who's exoskeleton was retracting back into his chest. The audience applauded with roars and shouts as Carnat lifted Ash's hand high, signalling the victory. They turned and walked back to the entrance.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," Ash nodded, "You?

"Of course." Carnat smiled. "Why wouldn't I be? There was no way I would lose that fight."

Ash was puzzled. "But I saw you when I missed that shot; you were terrified."

"I wasn't scared for me."
Chapter 24

Trexor 5

Trexor watched as hundreds of quake survivors walked west to the fields of Tapal. Many leaned on each other for mutual support, whereas the able-bodied and unharmed carried the more severely wounded. Trexor knew there was no point in moving the most wounded; there was no way medical teams would arrive in time to help, if any could make it. Trem had shared his green miracle liquid with a few of the wounded, but there was never any hope of there being enough to go round.

Trem stood next to Trexor and pointed in the distance. "Look: the buildings have sank over there. Maybe we should check it out."

Trexor grunted non-committally, before heading over to where Trem was pointing. Crossing the road was an ordeal in itself; it was twisted around in the quake, making it more akin to climbing a rocky wall than simply walking. Trexor gasped as he lost his footing; the stone beneath his feet crumbled and fell down, nearly taking him with it. When he reached the peak, he jumped back down to the ground and wandered over to the gaping holes in the ground.

Similar to the chasm in the centre of Raan, these stretched down further than the eye could see; a descent into darkness that no man should ever take. The size of just one hole was larger than one of the skyscrapers, and Trexor wondered what went through the occupants' minds as they plummeted downwards towards certain death; he couldn't imagine it.

Trem picked up a loose brick and tossed it down the chasm. It bounced off the side and cracked in two, but neither made another sound as they fell. "Damn, that could go right down, for all we know."

"Could do, yeah." Out of the corner of his eye, Trexor saw something move. "What was that?" Trexor drew his pistol.

Trem looked around. "What was what?"

"Something, over there. Moved." Trexor edged round the chasm towards where he saw the movement. "Something silver."

"Silver?" Trem sounded puzzled. "You sure?"

"Positive. Look." Trexor pointed at it as it came back into view.

The thing stood on four legs and seemed to have a feline body-shape, minus the tail. All of its features were minimalist; only a sleek silver skin was note-worthy. No markings of any sort. Even the head was bare, consisting of a curved wedge shape without ears, eyes or nose.

"What is it?" Trem asked, his voice wavering.

Trexor looked at him, briefly satisfied hearing the fear in his former enemy's voice. "I have no idea. Maybe the Xaosians planted it here?"

"It does seem rather mechanical," Trem conceded, "But there's something...off about it. Let's move closer."

They did so, Trexor clutching his pistol tightly while making sure not to make a sound. His feet tapped silently on the ground, and Trem seemed to float behind him, no sound escaping from his loose clothes or array of weapons.

Sensing something, the thing turned to face them. Its head split open, revealing teeth inside, with a gaping hole, which Trexor assumed was a throat; this seemed to be a threat. Trexor let loose a shot and the bullet got lodged in the thing's head. It paid the bullet no mind as the skin around folded over it, absorbing the bullet entirely.

"The hell?" Trem moved forward, but Trexor put a hand in the way to stop him.

The thing stared at them both for a beat, before it leapt into the chasm, sticking to the steep walls. As it ran downwards into Raan's core, others appeared from hiding spots behind buildings or under rubble, and followed the first downwards into the chasm.

Trexor moved back away from the gaping pit even as the things disappeared into the darkness below. "What are they?" he whispered, more to himself than to Trem, who didn't answer. "They don't seem dangerous though."

Trem walked to the chasm and looked inwards. Trexor followed his lead, and all around the sides they could see the things descending.

"Wonder where they came from..." Trem voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Maybe they came from the Xaosians and are attacking Raan's core," Trexor said slowly, "or they may be from the core and were disturbed by the Xaosians."

"I hope it's the latter."

"I hope it's neither." Trexor said, still hoping that this whole thing was just a nightmare. But he knew it wasn't.

Chapter 25

Foton 4

Even the air tasted funny on Prauw.

Shortly after Foton's escape pod was intercepted by a Prauwn aerospace squad, he was back on home-turf under the pseudonym Lyss Fown; just one of a number of aliases he had used in the past on his various "missions". Despite it being his homeworld, Foton had never missed Prauw. Due to the industrialisation of the world, and its prolonged inability to work with enviro-friendly materials and sources, everything was sepia-tinged due to the brown smoked which lined every street. Alleys were a no-go to any well-doing citizen; anyone going down an alley was almost certainly up to something; they were the only places to do crime. Even now, Foton could see finger-like cameras swivelling around to observe the anonymous masses. One lingered on him as he stared at it, before moving on. Foton grimaced; it wasn't just the police watching the cameras, and he wanted to be on Prauw just a bit longer before they noticed him.

The face-recognition AI that the Assassins used was possibly the most accurate of its kind; the Assassins knew the tricks people used to hide from the standard FR software and programmed countermeasures into this AI. However, the AI was not only used for FR; it was also used by the Assassin's leader to hack into the Empire Network to locate targets and give the Assassins an advantage in the field.

After seeing the camera, Foton knew that they would be on him soon. He wasn't sure how he would be welcomed back; the Assassins were not known for their forgiveness. Looking around, he noticed no-one watching. After one last check, he ducked into the next alley and waited. There was only a dull light, but Foton decided to check his weapons. One of his hidden diamond blades was still intact, but the other was shattered, leaving only a jagged edge behind. Foton shuddered at the thought of encountering Otor again; that Adjeti gave him a run for his money. He hoped that Otor was delusional and really was the last of his kind; he would hate to take on more than one. Thinking of Otor only reminded Foton of Devilclash; he was almost certain she would be fine. Pyrkagia were immortal, after all.

A small flurry of movement caught his eye and he turned to see a man, clad head to toe in black, stand up. "Foton." He bowed his head; a sign of respect, which Foton copied; obviously they weren't too hostile towards him. "It's been a while."

Foton recognised the voice. "B'yon? Is that you?"

The man peeled his hood back to reveal the tan-skinned B'yon beneath; hailing from K'hrak, his skin was naturally thicker and eyes larger than other humans'. "Glad you didn't forget me, friend." He extended a hand towards Foton, who looked at it suspiciously. B'yon withdrew the hand while saying, "We don't want you dead, y'know? The leader just wants to talk, and find a way for you to redeem yourself."

Foton tutted quietly; it was his mission to Buun that had screwed him over. He had just killed his target when three Pyrkagia rushed at him. He managed to lose them and escape Buun, before leaving the Assassins behind, leaving naught but a message for the leader. "That sounds fair," Foton agreed, "but I came here to recruit your efforts in the war."

"Maybe he'll consider it," B'yon led Foton out of the alley, "But you'll probably have to do something major before he even considers helping the war effort." He pulled a cylinder out of his pocket, which shone a bright red beam of light into the sky; a cab-hailer.

"I hoped that he may see the seriousness of the situation." A cab landed near to them, descending from the smog-filled skies. As they climbed in, B'yon passed a card with an address written on to the driver, who nodded, and input it into the cab's nav-screen; the driver was only really there as a mediator between the nav-screen and the passengers, as the cab drove itself. It lifted off into the brown sky.

"Unlikely," B'yon took the address card back, before leaning back in the seat, "we're not called a secret society for nothing; most of the Empire do not even know we exist. By helping the fight, the secret will be blown right open."

Foton cursed under his breath; he had forgotten how stubborn the leader was. The cab continued its silent quest until it vanished into a thicker, darker wave of brown; the industrial district. Prauw was known for its manufacturing of vehicles and small devices, in the same way that Xaos is known for its production of military engineering. All factories should be fully manned and operational as huge machines, controlled and maintained by a small fleet of people, build the wonders of aerospace travel from scratch. The cab began to descend again, and the ground became visible once more. B'yon paid the driver, leaving a tip in exchange for his silence, before following Foton out.

Both ground and air were different here. The ground was harder and the air thicker than it was in the city. B'yon went to the nearest factory and placed his palm on a small panel. A laser ran over it, scanning DNA, shape and heartbeat to ensure that it truly was B'yon. A small door opened to the left of him as the laser vanished. "Come on." B'yon beckoned Foton over.

"What happened to the house?" Foton asked, looking around the empty factory.

"Raided." Before the factory, the Assassins headquarters was just an old house in the slums of Munau, the capital city.

"B'yon." A hooded man approached them. "You bring Foton back with you. Interesting."

The leader of the Assassins stood before them, hunched over like an old man. But looks were deceiving, as were titles; he was known as the Blind Assassin, and rightly so. But he made up for his lack of eyes with both his combat and computing skills; he developed the Assassin's AI for himself, so that he could hack any electronic equipment around him, and use them to "see" his surroundings through a machine, which sat where his eyes should be, wired directly into his brain.

"My lord." Foton knelt before his leader. "I have come to rejoin the order. On one condition: we help the war effort against the Xaosians."

"Get up." The Blind Assassin gestured with his chin for Foton to stand. "And what can we do in a war? Kill Xaos? The generals? Perhaps that would help. Perhaps." He moved towards Foton, his movements seeming oddly mechanical. "We can help. You can rejoin. On one condition. One mission."

Foton sighed; he knew it would come down to this. "What's the mission?"

"Just a simple death." From under his cloak, the Blind Assassin pulled out a small cube, no bigger than the palm of Foton's hand. "And to plant this at the scene."

"Why?" Foton took the cube and examined it briefly.

"We do not ask questions." B'yon intervened. "We don't need to. We get the job done."

"Do you accept?" The Blind Assassin's voice rang with an ominous tone.

Foton thought about it for a second. "Yes. I do."
Chapter 26

Tors 4

Tors had never been off of Narcsia before, let alone in the nauseating embrace of L-Drive travel. He sat in a corner and held his head in his hands as an invisible blade twisted in his brain, only vaguely hearing Pandora telling him that people get used to L-Drive after the first couple of flights. Usually, he would find some sort of witty response, but he could hardly think with this throbbing pain.

"Damn man, you look terrible."

Tors looked up to see a human standing over him. He didn't wear any uniform, so Tors assumed that he must have been just one of Narcsia's large migrant population. "Thanks for that, buddy." Tors murmured. "I hadn't realised."

The man reached into his pocket and took out a sheet of tablets, with one empty holder. "Here. This'll help you out." He smiled and proffered a tablet to Tors, who looked at it suspiciously. "They're fine, I get all queasy in L-Drive too."

Head thudding, Tors was desperate for it to stop and abandoned his suspicions for a cure. Swallowing the tablet, he felt it dissolve inside of him, releasing a foul taste which made him cough. He coughed again and again, before he thumped himself in the chest and caught his breath. Looking up at the man, he extended a hand; the pain had gone. "Thanks man. Tors."

The man took the hand. "No problem. Cane."

"Mind if I ask where you're from?" Tors's curiosity crawled back to the surface.

"Raan." Cane nodded. "Got a wife and kid there, those damned storms made it impossible for me to get back there."

Remembering the storms, Tors shuddered; those things were still out there. Putting that aside for the moment, Tors now realised why Cane seemed so enthusiastic. "Must be nice knowing where you're going next."

"Yeah man, but I'd like an adventure again. It's not the same when you got a kid." Cane winked. "Take my advice; go on one while you can."

"You made a friend, Tors?" Emola entered their small cabin along with Pandora. "Unusual."

Pandora chuckled, before punching his arm. "Don't be mean." Her hair extended towards Cane. "Nice to meet you."

Cane put his head forward, and Pandora's tangled with his, before separating. "Haven't done the Trasmen greeting for a while; don't see many around." He raised a hand to Emola. "You and Tors must be friends."

"Emola." Tors gestured to him. "And Pandora. This is Cane."

"So, where are they dumping you guys?" Cane asked.

"I don't know." Emola said, his scales growing darker as his annoyance showed. "They never told us anything. Probably dump a load of us off at various spaceports. Don't know after that."

"Well, I'm going back to Tras, you're welcome to join me." Pandora seemed sincere.

"Can't believe we hadn't talked about this before..." Emola trailed off.

"You could go on a tour of the Empire." Cane suggested. "I did the same about five years ago, it was grand."

Tors looked at Pandora. "Yeah, maybe we should."

Pandora shook her head slightly. "I don't know Tors, I just want to go home."

A squeal of feedback halted the conversation. Tors looked at the small black speaker in the top right corner of the cabin. The squeal stopped, and a screen flicked on showing naught but static.

"Some sort of power surge?" Emola asked.

"They've found us!" Tors yelled. "The winds!"

Pandora slapped Tors. "Of course not, you idiot! Now get a hold of yourself!"

Tors calmed down, but his heart still pounded. "You're right; no gas in space. It's a vacuum."

"Not a power surge though." Cane said, looking at Tors with his brow furrowed. Tors looked out of the cabin window and saw three other ships in the nine-ship fleet. Nothing unusual.

Then an image came on the screen. Blurry at first, before it became clear.

"That's a Xaosian." Emola observed.

"Not any Xaosian." Pandora pointed at the screen. "Look; the golden patterning on his seat; that is Lord Xaos."

The image opened its mouth and began to speak. "I do not need to fire upon your ships." The voice echoed from every screen and every speaker in the fleet. "I do not need to board your ships; I am one with them now. Comply, and you shall be saved. Failure to do so will result in just one of a number of excruciatingly painful deaths. Shall I turn off the oxygen? Open the airlocks? Or simply let your ship fall apart?"

Shouting could be heard, yelling and screaming. Footsteps, slow and fast. Tors looked out of the window again and saw a Titan-Class Xaosian battleship approaching. One of the fleet's ships fired upon it, barely missing only when the Titan swerved away and shot the missile down itself.

The evacuation ship exploded.

Occupants drifted out as airlocks opened. Tors could not see them, but he could imagine them clinging to their throats as tightly as they clung to their very last breath. Another of the fleet then opened fire on the dying ship, tearing it apart to finish off any survivors.

"I warned you." The voice echoed again, louder than before. "I do not want to kill you all; that would be a waste. Now surrender. Power down your engines willingly, or I shall do so for you."

Tors felt the ship stop abruptly, nearly knocking him off his feet. He gave an involuntary smile as Emola stumbled and fell to the ground, before he stood, swearing under his breath. The other ships also stopped in quick succession.

More Titan's emerged from the darkness of space and docked with all eight remaining ships. The cabin doors hissed closed and locked automatically as the Xaosians stormed the ships, forcefully relieving the captains of their duties.

Tors looked around at the others, who all looked as frightened as he felt. He sat back down, and reclaimed his corner. The other three did the same, and, when the Xaosians started the ships again, carried out the rest of the journey in silence.

Chapter 27

Devilclash 3

The hive was unsettled, and it had every right to be, as Devilclash drudged her way through the swamps of Proda. She ached everywhere; something she hadn't thought possible, but she thanked her bugs for it; the crash-landing down onto Buun could have been much worse. Her hive had only just finished metamorphosing back from their defensive rocky forms, a transformation that is almost instantaneous and painless when turning to stone, but the complete opposite when turning back.

She hadn't been prepared for an Adjeti, she knew that. Especially not Otor. A quick scan of the few Adjeti-related memories available in the Swarm revealed that he was one of the eighteen Adjeti Warchiefs; highly trained warrior-kings who dominated the battlefield; must have got rusty in his old age, Devilclash observed. Unless, she later thought, he wanted them to underestimate their true power.

Proda was not, as one may think, a city. Proda is, in fact, just one of many Biomes that the Pyrkagia have seen fit to divide their world up into. Proda was the swamplands in the East of the continent Gyrara, unfortunately far away from the Primary's body. Luckily for Devilclash, there was a direct Tertiary Pyrkagia in every Biome. While there was only one Primary, and one Secondary, there were hundreds of Tertiaries, acting more like com-devices than actual Pyrkagia.

She hoped one was close.

It felt close in the Swarm, but whether that was close in local, or planetary, terms, she had no idea. She just had to keep going. With all of her hive back to being bugs again, she took flight. The hive converged around the hive-stone and lifted it into the air, wings buzzing as they became a solid multi-part living cloud. Never going higher than the treetops, her movement was still restricted to the makeshift paths between them, but she could cover ground so much faster this way.

There was very little life on Buun besides the Pyrkagia; there was no need for it. The Pyrkagia were herbivores, and there was no lack of vegetation. All other life on Buun was unnecessary and hence removed; the ancient Pyrkagia attitude. Devilclash felt that the eradication of all that life was the greatest sin of her ancestors, and she silently and secretly despised the Primary for it.

The Primary was originally the very first Pyrkagias in existence, the one who gained intelligence and pulled all of the hives into his own larger Swarm. The Secondary, of course, was the second Pyrkagias that formed. The original Primary, however, died in the Adjeti war, and the current Primary was the original Secondary, ascending to the position after a period of great turmoil for the Pyrkagia, cut loose from their brethren.

She entered a clearing in the trees and let herself fall back to the ground; she was at the right place. The hive-stone was caught just before it hit the ground, and she reformed herself into her human form. While she felt none of the stigma of having a non-humanoid form when on Buun, she preferred it to her natural cloud-based cluster; it was more elegant. In the clearing, there were four stone columns arranged in a square pattern and, in the centre, a small stone seat.

She landed in front of the open temple and walked over to the seat, upon which sat a single hive-stone; that was all a tertiary was: a hive-stone used as a com to communicate directly with the Primary. She touched her hive-stone to the tertiary and delved into the Swarm.

She could see memories pass her by as she waited inside the Swarm for the Primary. Happy Pyrkagia passed her by, along with their sad moments, their most intimate moments, and their anger. She could feel anger throughout the Swarm; they had seen her memories of Otor already.

"I know why you're here, Devilclash." The voice of the Primary came from all around her; to all intents and purposes, he was the Swarm. "And I've already taken measures."

"Those measures may not be enough." Devilclash could not put emotion into her speech inside the Swarm, but she felt desperate to get her point across. "The Adjeti said that there are more; that his race will be restored!"

"And implied that Oblivion was not destroyed, yes. I heard it all. It is entirely possible that we failed in destroying Oblivion and their race. Unlikely, but possible; we and Ardican fired the World-Burner through the Oblivion Gate, their portal. A portal which we have no idea how to work."

Intrigued, Devilclash asked, "What are your measures, then? And we weren't on the World-Burner, were we?"

"Don't believe the tales that humans tell; of that day, they say what we wanted them to. The downfall of the Adjeti was our grand undertaking, and that's all I will say about it. My measures; a single surveillance ship. Until we find out what is happening, we cannot stage a slaughter of them yet. And you, for all your interest, shall lead it. A ship will be dispatched to you."

Devilclash felt herself pushed from the Swarm and felt herself reel at what she had learnt; what else had the Pyrkagia done that the Primary had covered up?
Chapter 28

Otor 1

After centuries of persecution, Otor felt old. Constant fleeing from town to city, city to town took more than a lifetime of energy from him. Hiding in the shadows left his joints ache from the hours of staying still, and the constant fear of discovery left his nerves broken. In all the centuries since he saved Oblivion, he found himself stranded on Xaos, the first place his escape capsule took him. Stealing food in a dull-brown shroud helped him blend into the the slums of the cities, but wherever he went, soon enough an angry mob showed up. Flames held on archaic wooden torches: apparently a source of fear, but Otor never understood; if you're going to attack in the night, why bring a light along? It just gives the enemy an advantage that it wouldn't have otherwise. Otor, however, wasn't going to complain; the light granted by fire had saved him more than once.

But, he reflected as his ship reached its destination, it took only one screw-up to get captured. Go down one damn alleyway, and there was a Xaosian Soldier troupe waiting. By the time they hauled him to the capital, Otor had resigned himself to his fate; he had nothing to lose. But instead of going to the chopping block, he was taken to Lord Xaos instead.

His ship docked, and he stood up ready to exit. Touching his eye, he found it sensitive to the touch, but fine other than that. The airlock opened, and Otor stepped out of his ship and into the hangar bay of The Dominion. Xaosians, like insects, were already swarming the smaller craft, greeting the returned. Otor ignored them; he had no time for the insignificant. He jogged through the vast ship, ignoring the Xaosians who stopped to stare, or those who hurled abuse at him; not all of them agreed with him being allowed to live, even if he was bringing a huge advantage to their side.

Xaos's chambers were guarded by two large Xaosians, who each wielded a ceremonial halberd. "Move." Otor commanded. "I need to see Lord Xaos immediately."

One Xaosian looked at him suspiciously and raised the halberd slightly, before the other stopped him. "Of course," said the Xaosian, gently holding the other's halberd back, "no worries."

Otor thanked them both, giving the opposer a glare as he went past. As the doors to Xaos's chambers closed behind him, he heard the two arguing in hushed tones. He smiled.

"Otor." Xaos sat behind a desk in his twin-parabola-styled throne. "It seems you kept up your end of the bargain, just as I have kept mine. Thank you."

Otor suddenly remembered to kneel; they had taught him with pain. "And thank you my lord."

"Stand, Otor." Otor obliged as Xaos continued. "It is time for the second part of our bargain." Xaos tilted his head slightly. "You can deliver, can't you?"

"Yes." Otor thought it was obvious; Xaos had spared his life for two services; killing the Lord, and gathering him an army. "Once I get to the Oblivion Gate, I can save my race, and you will get your army."

Xaos smiled. "Good." He stood, and extended a hand to Otor.

Otor took the hand, but noticed something silver and unfamiliar in Xaos's ear. He pointed at it. "What's that?"

Xaos slapped his hand down. "None of your concern. We tried your weapon, though. The Earth-Scorcher."

Otor was filled with sudden dread; he had built it for them, but he never expected them to use it; obviously he had underestimated Xaos. "Where did you use it?"

"Raan," Xaos grinned, "right on the Sea of Oil."

"And the damage?"

"Quakes across the entire world began after the flames reached the core."

Otor grimaced; he couldn't give anything away to this maniac. He nodded forcefully. "Now get me to the Oblivion Gateway. Where are you headed?"

"I will send you to the Oblivion Gateway with a fleet of Titans." Xaos seemed unsure. "As for my next move; I must deal with the situation with the Narcsia survivors. Then, I will move on New Orbus."

Otor nodded; now he knew exactly where to find Xaos. "Good. Get me a crew. I will be waiting in hangar bay." Without waiting for a response, he left the room, noticing the glare from one of the guards outside the door.

As he went round the corner, Otor stopped and leant against a wall, head in hand; Xaos had used the Earth-Scorcher, something Otor never imagined he would actually do. Swearing to himself, he remembered as the Xaosians used the pain inducers to force him to build the weapon. He remembered the testing on one of Xaos's moons, the chaos it had wreaked. And he used it on the one planet he should not have; Raan. The prison world for the Corlens, the Adjeti had battled them for decades in a war that felt like a bloody stalemate, until finally, the Adjeti gained an upper hand and drove them into the core of Raan.

Otor shook his head and continued to the hangar bay; When I restore my race, I will kill Xaos first.

*

The Titan on which Otor travelled reached the Oblivion Gateway much quicker than he expected; space travel had improved dramatically since he was last able to use it, and this left him in awe of the adoption and evolution of technology. From the AIs controlling and regulating the life-support and gravity systems, to the upgraded L-Drives, Otor respected those who took the technology given to them by the Adjeti, and built upon it. Upon realising these advancements, he couldn't help but feel excitement to see how the Adjeti had upgraded their own technology.

The Oblivion Gateway. Otor could see it now as the Titan stopped next to it. A giant metal octagonal ring which free-floated in space, surrounding a shimmering black surface, which stood out from the rest of space due to its depthlessness. There was one single operating station, and that was where Otor had to go.

A Xaosian by the name of Guran helped Otor into a spacesuit. Otor liked Guran; the young Xaosian seemed to be fascinated with the Adjeti and, while Otor sometimes found his persistent questioning irritating, he was pleased that someone seemed to think that the Adjeti were heroes, even questioning the nature of the attack on Orbus, which the Adjeti were blamed for. Apparently, many scholars also questioned it, but Otor didn't give a damn about them; Guran was a nice guy, and one was of the few Xaosians Otor had no quarrel with.

With the spacesuit on, Guran wished him luck, which Otor accepted. The airlock opened and Otor swam out, getting used to the sensation once more. He pushed himself over to the operations platform, and imagined a clang as his feet touched down. Pulling off the glove on his suit, he pressed his palm to the control panel; only Adjeti could use the Gateway's controls due to the DNA recognition.

The Oblivion Gateway was, essentially, a portal to the space near Oblivion, which resided in an different solar system to the rest of the Empire. It worked by sending whatever entered it to the coordinates programmed into the Gateway. However, an unfortunate oversight left the coordinate panels working on only one side of the portal, cutting Oblivion off from the rest of the Empire, after Otor himself changed the coordinates to save his world from the World-Burner. The World-Burner was fired into the Oblivion Gate in retaliation for the supposed Adjeti attack on Orbus, presumably decimating Oblivion.

However, the portal actually led to a long-dead world, where it was the safe for the World-Burner to be fired, saving Oblivion. The screen in front of him flashed on, and he changed the coordinates of the portal; he remembered them exactly after all these years. The shimmering darkness disappeared just for a moment, before it returned once more. Otor leapt off the platform and swam back to his ship. As he arrived, he couldn't help but smile as he pulled off the spacesuit and the ship sped through the portal.

A darkness surrounded the ship and Otor could feel his fellow passengers' fear; they didn't trust him at the best of times, and especially not now with their lives in his hands. A few minutes of tension followed before they emerged out of the darkness.

Satellites were strewn around the space around the golden orb that was, as Otor recognised it, home. Using the screens, he zoomed in on the planet and saw ships and aerospace vehicles flitting about in heavily-urbanised areas.

Oblivion was alive.

Chapter 29

Devilclash 4

The Hive-Ship was much more spacious than necessary; the original Hive-Ships were just large enough for 5 Hive-Stones in the main ship body, and the rest of the bugs were in a containment chamber behind it. Now, they were roughly the same size as any small human transport ship. However, unlike other transport ships, this Hive-Ship was simply one large room, with the pilot at the front, and the other two Pyrkagia wandering around in front of Devilclash in silence; fear was a great silencer.

"Are we close now?" Devilclash broke the silence.

The pilot, Pyrious, turned to her and simply said "yes", before turning back away again. He was never one for conversation.

"How much further?" The gruff voice of Amnich blared out, sounding annoyed at the pilot.

"A couple of minutes, if that." Pyrious too seemed annoyed, but at the questions.

Devilclash despised most other Pyrkagia; on the surface, they seemed too shallow, emotionless. While she knew that they weren't like that on the inside, she couldn't help but feel a growing distance from them as she further integrated herself into the human-dominated society on New Orbus. She assumed that humans must see her as she sees the rest of her kind, but her hatred now stemmed beyond that; they brought about the downfall of a race, and she still had no idea how. When she had first heard what the Primary had said, she assumed that it was just firing the World-Burner at Oblivion. But his tone, and his phrasing, implied that they had done more to influence events; what else had they covered up in the locked-away sections of the Swarm. She hated the lies; they pained her like a knife twisting in her Hive-Stone.

"There's a ship there!" Pyrious's surprise pierced her thoughts, and she jolted to attention.

"What type of ship?" Amnich walked up to the pilot, as did Devilclash.

"Titan-Class, Xaosian." Pyrious was back to business.

"Stay back." Devilclash ordered. "The Adjeti I encountered is almost certainly on that ship."

The screen in front of the pilot zoomed in on the Oblivion Gateway, as he ran his hand over an embedded sphere in the control panel. "There." The other Pyrkagia, Lutun, pointed at the screen. Devilclash looked closer and saw what she had feared; Otor, and he was inputting codes into the Gateway.

"Kill them." Devilclash ordered. "Now!"

"No," Amnich commanded, "we have our orders; we follow them to Oblivion. If there is any foul play, it seems to be being undone right there." The Gateway shimmered, and Otor went back into the ship. "Continue towards them. Follow them through the portal."

The Titan disappeared into the portal, and the Hive-Ship followed slowly behind. They travelled in silence, as if the smallest sound could give away their position. Devilclash watched as the stars disappeared when they entered the portal. The darkness, while it should be fear-inducing, was actually quite beautiful in a strange way. Perhaps it was the shimmering nature of it, or the fact that it vaguely reflected the Hive-Ship's light. Through the Swarm, Devilclash could sense that Amnich, despite his brave front, was just as afraid as Lutun. Surprisingly, Pyrious felt the same as her about the darkness; he just stared out the front window at it, encapsulated by its random movements and ripples.

The darkness cleared to reveal Oblivion.

The Titan had disappeared into an ever-growing cloud of space-traffic around the golden planet. Devilclash gasped involuntarily and took a step back; the Adjeti were alive.

"Get us out of here, Pyrious." Lutun ordered softly, his voice trembling.

"Of course." Pyrious grabbed the nav-sticks again and the ship began to turn.

Something struck the ship, knocking the Pyrkagia apart. The Hive-Stones called them back together as the ship continued to rock. "What was that?" Amnich was terrified; it showed in the Swarm.

Three ships came into sight; red and gold boomerangs bristling with weaponry unlike any Devilclash had ever seen. They had no propulsion system that she could see, but she could see the single Adjeti in the cockpit; even from this distance, she could see the hatred on his face. And she understood his hatred, because she felt it too.

Calls for the Pyrkagia to surrender were answered, and the ships released some sort of laser-tether and dragged the Hive-Ship towards Oblivion.

Chapter 30

Tors 5

After being overtaken by the Xaosian soldiers, the windows on the Evacuation craft were blacked out entirely; Tors had no idea where they were being taken, but the voyage seemed to take an age without any sense of time or distance. The Xaosians had put guards outside of each cabin, and the residents of which were violently "encouraged" to keep silent. Cane, Pandora and Emola exchanged glances with Tors, but he couldn't read what they were meant to convey.

When they were unloaded onto a planet, Tors could see exactly what planet it was through the high barbed-wire fence; Irin. The domed cities gave it away; he wished he was in there, rather than an open-air prison camp. There was no-where to sit or sleep but the hard ground; essentially, the prison camp was a large square of land surrounded by a barbed-wire electric fence. Xaosians guarded the outside, and patrolled the inside, guns in hand; Tors couldn't identify the type, he had never been interested in guns. Food was distributed by various cooks, who presumably were doing this against their will, travelling from the nearby city to deliver the small food rations.

Sat to the left of Tors was Cane, with Pandora and Emola on his right. Cane looked troubled, moreso than any others; he was the only Raanian here, perhaps the only human; Tors couldn't see any others, anyway, but he hadn't really been desperate to find one. While Cane was lonely in terms of species, he also missed his wife and child on Raan. Hearing about the quakes from whisperings by the guards had stunned him into silence and anger. No tears, just rage at his home being destroyed; he had no idea if they had survived, but his optimistic streak hoped they were. His realist side, however, accepted them as gone, but he tried ignore it.

A small Scaliman child shuffled past Tors. Tors smiled at him, and the kid tried to smile back, before one of the Xaosian guards jabbed him in the back with their rifle. "Move it kid, get back to pen seven." The kid fell to his knees and, as he tried to pick himself up, he looked at Tors, his smile sliding off his tear-streaked face. "Move!" The guard forced him up, and pushed him, the kid nearly falling down again.

"Hey!" Cane stood up. "Leave him alone!"

The guard pointed his gun at Cane, who strode over to the guard. The kid ran away, scared of both the armour-clad guard and the large, loud man. "Cane, stop." Tors placed his hand on Cane's shoulder, but he continued walking.

The Xaosian shifted stance so that it was somehow both defensive and mocking. "I'd sit back down, if I was you. Both of you." As Tors realised that the voice was female, she gestured to both of them with her gun. "Now."

Cane swung a punch. The Xaosian blocked, returned one in the gut. "Sit down!" She yelled. Other prisoners rose up. Shouting and roaring soon turned to screaming as gunfire pierced the night. The Xaosian pushed Tors aside and shot Cane in the knee. He screamed and fell to the ground. Without hesitation, she shot at other prisoners before smashing the butt of the gun into Emola's face, and kicking Tors down to the ground. "Enough!" She yelled over the sounds of violence. She then spoke into a com. "I authorise deadly force."

Screams were silenced, one by one. Some surrendered, some died; it was one of two choices, there was no middle-ground. Cane clutched his knee, gingerly dabbing at the blood with a piece of blue fabric torn off of his shirt. The guard came over, and Cane backed away. "I only want to see." She moved his hand out of the way, looked at the damage, and called for a medic from the nearby city.

"Why bother helping?" Pandora asked.

"I don't want you to die." Tors noticed that a small badge on her com identified the Xaosian as Kivina. "I just want you to do as I say. Xaos hasn't said what to do with you, but he'll probably want you alive. For his army."

"We'll never join him. Not after this." Tors gestured around the camp.

Kivina gave a sad smile. "I said that once. But then," she pointed at a small silver device in her ear, "he can be very persuasive."
Chapter 31

Otor 2

On the surface, Otor was escorted out of the Titan vessel and given a hero's welcome. Cheers echoed around Oblivion's capital of Tayah, and he raised his arms half-heartedly. With no exoskeleton to cover his skin, the Adjeti around could see the scars and the burns he had sustained over centuries. Whether it had been a glancing bullet, a haphazardly swung knife, or the prolonged torture Xaos had put him under, it was all mapped out over his red skin, much darker than any other Adjeti's here.

Most of the Xaosians remained in the Titan, but Guran followed gingerly. Otor looked back when he heard the young Xaosian's footsteps, and beckoned for him to join them. He jogged for a moment, before standing only slightly behind Otor and removing his helmet. The clean air of Oblivion reached out and touched his silver scales and red eyes, before sneaking its way into his body and refreshing him fully; the lad had never known anything other than the vacuum of space and the pollutants of Xaos.

As Otor reached the end of the ramp, he hesitated; is this all real? All too good? After all this time, could this really be my home? One more footstep would confirm it either way; if it was just a dream, his foot touching the ground could delete this fantasy. But if it was real...

His boot met solid ground.

He took a step back as a gasp escaped his lungs; it was real. He looked around at the gathering Adjeti and smiled awkwardly; the first true one he'd had in centuries. One Adjeti, exoskeleton covering him from feet to neck, came over to him and extended a hand. Otor eyed him up; the gold markings on his exoskeleton matched Otor's faded ones, identifying him as a fellow Warchief, with the piercing blue eyes and the mane of naturally-white hair defining him fully.

"Keinam," Otor took the hand and shook it, "It has been far too long."

Keinam nodded and grinned. "It really has." He turned to the ever-growing audience and yelled, "An Adjeti has returned from beyond the Oblivion Gateway! We are saved!"

The cheer of the crowds felt like an earthquake to Otor's ears, louder than anything he heard on Xaos. Louder even than the roars of "traitor" and "burn it!" that had too often penetrated the night. His knees nearly buckled, but he held onto Guran's shoulder.

"Our saviour," Keinam continued, "is none other than Warchief Otor, the one who sealed the Gateway to save our world from the Pyrkagia. And now, we shall wipe them out!"

As the cheers continued, Keinam walked with Otor back into the Titan ship. "Let's get somewhere quiet," he had said, "your ship will do."

As they entered, Otor dismissed the Xaosians to the cockpit as Keinam sat down on a small bench. "How has Oblivion fared in my absence?"

Keinam sighed. "The first few decades were the worst; cut off from all our trade routes, we had to adapt. Slowly. We tried to build another Gateway, or a small portal stable enough to send one of us to somewhere else in the Empire. We didn't have the resources for the Gateway, nor for another intergalactic craft; lord knows we tried but the older one is still, as you must remember, adrift somewhere in the dark. The portals; no-one ever came back, or even arrived at the coordinates. They just vanished. Died in the void." He looked at Otor, the memories hard to bare. "Our brothers...the Warchiefs...are dead. Following our failures, riots. But I brought order to our world, united us all with the promise of vengeance against the Pyrkagia. And you've made sure that I can honour that promise. After I announced this intention, we tripled our space-force, upgraded them all and held them ready." He looked at Otor's scars. "What did that to you?"

"Xaosians." Otor said bluntly. "They tortured me until I made them a smaller version of the World-Burner. They tortured me until I agreed to fight with them in a war they started. And then they tortured me until I promised them an army of Adjeti."

Keinam stared at Otor and saw the suffering in his eyes. "And will you honour your promise?"

Otor bit his lip and briefly considered it. "No. I want to kill them all."

Footsteps.

Otor turned to see a Xaosian by the door, who must have heard their entire conversation. Eyes wide, he fled, but his run did not last long as Keinam's arm twisted and shot a blood-bullet through the his skull. "Shall we make a start?"

Otor held a hand in front of his brother-in-arms. "Spare Guran, the one who accompanied me. He's not like the rest."

Keinam paused, before nodding. "Of course."

Otor let his exoskeleton cover him, head to toe, and twisted the left arm into the cannon form. He led Keinam into the cockpit where Guran approached them, leaving three other Xaosians bent over a console. "Guran, get behind me." Otor commanded, the young Xaosian obeying, unquestioning. Keinam fired on the leftmost Xaosian, Otor on the right, before Guran drew a pistol and shot down the remaining soldier. "What are you doing?" Otor rounded on Guran, as Keinam went to check the bodies.

"We heard what you said," Guran dropped the pistol, seeming conflicted over what he had done. "and you're right. Those who did this to you must be punished. But not our race, not our species."

"I will destroy every Xaosian inbetween me and Xaos." Otor vowed. "And I have an army to help me now. We will return to the Empire and right its wrongs with whatever means we see fit. And you shall join me."

Guran nodded as Keinam returned. "They managed to broadcast a transmission before we silenced them. A signal booster and an AI somehow configured together to make that possible. Wish we'd coded something like that, eh?"

"The Xaosians do have a strange AI system in place," Guran observed, "I never could make sense of it."

"Neither could I." Otor agreed. "It's like it's constantly recoding itself; much too advanced for any common use aside from strategic or military operations."

"Ah well, let the Xaosians have their machines." Keinam led them out of the Titan. "We have another issue." He tapped the implant in his throat and listened for a moment; most Adjeti warriors had com-units implanted in their throats. "You were followed."

"What by?" Otor clenched his fists; that wasn't meant to happen.

"Pyrkagia; a basic Hive-Ship with four of the insects." Keinam almost hissed the words. "Crews are bringing it here; we need to give the people a...demonstration of our intentions."

Otor nodded, before turning to Guran. "You stay back, you hear me? One of them could kill you, four would desecrate you entirely." He nodded and stayed behind Otor.

The ovoid Hive-Ship was towed by three of the Adjeti Wingships and, as crowds parted from Tayah's city-square, unceremoniously dumped onto the browning-grass. The hull cracked from the impact, and a squadron of Adjeti surrounded the ship. Keinam waved them away, before assigning one to keep Guran safe. "Pyrkagia! We have your ship surrounded! Come out now!"

Otor moved slowly closer to the Pyrkagia ship, before the Pyrkagia emerged. Four, just as Keinam had been told. And Otor recognised one of them, and he could tell that she recognised him. "You." Otor said, pointing at her. "You said I was wrong. Well, look around. Who's wrong now?"

The Pyrkagias seemed to leer at him, but did not say anything; Otor knew just as well as she did that the Pyrkagia here were already dead, only being used as scouts for the Primary.

"Do you surrender for execution?" Keinam asked; Otor was sure that he knew they would not, especially as one had turned its bugs to stone. When silence answered, he asked a different question. "State your names."

"Amnich." This was the one, Otor noted, that was both the largest, and the one who turned his bugs to stone.

"Pyrious." The Pyrkagias said his name only quietly, and Otor barely heard it.

"Lutun." The smallest of the quartet, his voice wavered as he spoke; unusual for one of them.

"Devilclash." Otor smiled when she spoke; now he knew his aggressor's name, he may feel satisfied when he killed her. It would be a much more personal vengeance than it would be against a nameless drone.

Keinam once again twisted his arm into its cannon form. "Amnich. Pyrious. Lutun. Devilclash. For your species' crimes, you are sentenced to death."

"No." Amnich leapt at Keinam, who twisted out of the way and fired at the bugs protecting the Hive-Stone.

The other three sprang into action, with Pyrious running over to Keinam, and Devilclash and Lutun running over to Otor. Going on the defensive, the exoskeleton closed around both Adjeti's mouths, shielding them from any bugs that may take a wander inside. Instead, the Pyrkagia targeted the eyes. Devilclash lunged for the eyes, while Lutun's bugs secreted an acid which attempted to burn through the natural armour. Otor tried to block Devilclash's attack, slapping the bugs away from his eyes, but he fell down to the floor as Adjeti all around stayed away, held back by Enforcers.

Keinam dodged his aggressors' attacks and kept firing on the bugs, annihilating more and more with every blast. They tried to avoid, but Amnich's stone armour was near-enough destroyed now; it may provide protection, but it was shit at evading. Taking the offensive, Keinam snapped his exoskeleton back around his hands, dodged Pyrious's usual clumsy attack and smashed a fist into Amnich's armour, cracking the stones. Amnich took a step back, throwing a punch of his own. Keinam blocked that punch with one arm, before shattering the armour around the Hive-Stone with his second. He felt the Pyrkagias's fear as he grabbed the Hive-Stone. As his fingers wrapped around, his exoskeleton changed and shifted until it was the same murky-green as the Hive-Stone. "Only Hive-Stone destroys Hive-Stone." Keinam muttered, before crushing Amnich in his palm. The bugs stopped in mid-air and fell to the ground; the only thing granting them life was the Hive-Stone.

Seeing Otor's situation, Keinam ignored Pyrious and touched his hand to Otor's shoulder, pulling him up. Otor's armour slowly became the same consistency of the Hive-Stone, just like Keinam's. Devilclash gasped, before diving out of Otor's way as he swung a wild fist. Grabbing Keinam, Otor pulled himself up, joints aching like never before. He thought he heard a crack in his knees, but with the crowd's noise, he couldn't be certain.

Deciding now to deal with Pyrious, Keinam extended part of his exoskeleton into a blade, snapped it off with his free hand and threw it like a javelin at Pyrious's Hive-Stone, watching with satisfaction as the clumsy Pyrkagias fell, stone shattered and dead. Lutun and Devilclash were still putting up a fight, Devilclash knocking Keinam down to the floor. Otor barely dodged Lutun's punch, before he was able to form a blade around one arm and slice Lutun's Hive-Stone in half.

Devilclash stood over a downed Keinam, before turning to Otor. "Please, Otor. Don't do this. Punish those who did this to you. Not our species."

"We did nothing to provoke your kind trying to destroy us." Otor spat. "We have proof, footage, that Pyrkagia fired the World-Burner on Orbus, framing us for it, hoping that the backlash would do your dirty work for you. You were cowards, and you nearly succeeded. All around the Empire, my people were hunted down like dogs while you looked on. We will not give you mercy, because you gave us none."

Devilclash relaxed and stared at Otor. "You're right." She nodded. "I never knew about that deception, but we did hunt you all down. Obviously I've lived with the humans for too long, because I've developed a conscience which my peers do not have." Her voice stayed level and strong when she concluded with, "You should kill us all."

She grabbed her Hive-Stone and passed it to Otor, who took it suspiciously. He wasn't sure if it was genuine, or just another Pyrkagia's trap. The bugs moved in a nodding motion, and Otor cracked the Hive-Stone in his hand. No response.

He felt no satisfaction when he split the stone apart, and neither did the silent crowd. Even Keinam bowed his head in respect to Devilclash, as she tried to atone for the sins her forefathers had wreaked.

He bowed his own head in respect, before beckoning to Keinam. "The Pyrkagia are no threat right now. If we are gain the support to eliminate them, we must head to the Empire's new capital: New Orbus."

Keinam tapped his throat and spoke into the embedded com. "Ready the fleet."

Chapter 32

Xaos 1

"Otor was right," Havn's voice blared through the com as Xaos listened to the transmission from Oblivion again, "the Adjeti are alive, and he is in talks with them now. Wait, hang on-" The transmission ended with shots fired and a static crackle; something had fired on the Xaosians. In Xaos's mind, the only logical answer would be that Otor had betrayed them. Logical that he would do so, Xaos berated himself, but he had always deemed Otor to have been honourable.

Luckily, he had a backup plan.

Rising from his throne, he strode over to the door and threw it open wide. Ignoring the two guards outside, he continued walking, wisely assuming that they would follow. A few seconds of silence passed, before one of the Guards, Atil, asked, "Where are we going, my lord?"

There was a quiet whisper in Xaos's ear, before he answered, "Buun."

Even though he could not see Atil, Xaos knew that his forehead would furrow in the way that only lesser people do. "Why, sir?"

Xaos smiled. "Because you were right. You said that the Adjeti could not be trusted, you hated them; I saw you say it." The whispering in his ear continued. "They betrayed us. We will better them; the Pyrkagia are their ancient enemy, we can recruit them, I'm sure."

The other guard, Fugada, chipped in. "When will we be there?"

"Soon, don't worry your little minds." Xaos smiled. "When we get in orbit, we'll go down in a Titan and meet the Primary in his temple on the Mata continent." He beckoned to the guards to keep up. "Let's get to the ship ready."

As he made his way to the ship, he took a quick detour to his personal vault in the centre of The Dominion. "Wait here." The guards did as he commanded while he entered his pin-code and stepped into the vault.

The vault was large, larger than any of the chambers on the flagship, and housed an automated manufacturing plant. Conveyor-belts turned and whirred as robotic arms hissed and fizzed as they crafted what Xaos liked to call "Inducers"; small devices to keep those they were attached to under control. Even now, almost all of his troops had one embedded in their ear. Walking over to the belts, he found a complete Inducer; a small silver disc. He placed a handful of them in his pocket, before turning and leaving the vault. He beckoned his two guards towards him and stalked off in the direction of the hangar bay, knowing exactly how to recruit the Pyrkagia.

Moving the Inducers around in his pocket, he smiled confidently; he was in control.

Or at least, that was what the silver in his ear whispered to him.

Chapter 33

Ilisa 2

Ilisa was used to crossing from Raan to New Orbus in just a couple of hours, but the ancient ship was much slower; she wasn't sure why she hadn't realised that even before she fired the ancient ship up. The fact that it was ancient wasn't her only clue that it wouldn't be quite up to scratch as modern ships; it creaked when it started up, and it had been creaking a lot since then.

But none of that mattered now; she could see New Orbus now, the grey orb of salvation. She set the controls to autopilot and sat with the comatose Strom. Putting his head in her arms, she cradled it against her chest, one hand running through his black hair, and began to speak.

"Strom?" Her voice was more high-pitched than usual, but she tried to stay calm. "I know you can hear me. You're gonna be just fine; doctors on New Orbus gonna wake you up." She smiled, relaxed. There was silence for a moment as she held his hair in her hand. It was damp with sweat, but still strangely soft. "Do you remember how we met? Those twats giving me a hard time because I'm a woman? Didn't trouble me ever again." She gave a short laugh. "They're probably dead now though..." She felt no real sadness at that prospect; all they were to her were just nameless tormentors. "You were my hero. And now I'm yours." She smiled briefly. "How times change." She kissed Strom's forehead, before heading back over to the controls.

A display was flashing green, which she presumed wasn't normal. On inspection of the display, she noted that, just behind her own craft, several others had materialised from L-Drive travel. She inspected the ships closer, activating the ship's rear camera and zooming in.

To see the unmistakable wedge of The Dominion.

Around the Xaosian flagship, smaller ships were locked into a defensive spread, surrounding The Dominion in a spherical formation. Ilisa bit her lip, not quite knowing what to do; her first thought was that they had followed her, but she realised that The Dominion had already left the system before her, and that she was nowhere near important enough to follow. Instead, she assumed that Xaos meant to attack New Orbus. She rubbed her hand over her face and sighed heavily, before leaping on the controls. She veered towards New Orbus, putting on a burst of speed; she had to get Strom there before the fighting.

New Orbus's Orbital Defence System seemed to be fully up and running, and Ilisa was thankful for that as she passed it; the Xaosians could be slowed down at least. A satellite near to her exploded, and she shrieked as the shrapnel crashed against her ship. A red light flashed on one of the displays; a wing was damaged. More of the satellites were blasted into oblivion, shrapnel drifting past and into the ship. The ship rocked and swerved off course. Ilisa fell from her seat. Strom's prone body slid across the floor. Ilisa gasped in pain as her head smashed against the controls. She felt the back of her head and found a sticky patch in her dark hair; bleeding. She cursed, before getting back into her seat. The ship was hit by something from behind as she entered New Orbus's atmosphere. Shrapnel burnt up behind her, but still fell, acting as miniature fireballs cracking the hull. Ilisa tried to keep the ship on course. The city was in her sights, but too far away. She tried to steer over, and the city got ever closer.

A piece of burning shrapnel finally breached the hull, distracting Ilisa just enough for her to lose control of the burning ship. When she turned back to the screen, she knew there was no chance of reaching the city now. She turned off the displays and sat next to Strom.

"I've failed you." A tear punctuated the short sentence, splashing on her lover's forehead.

She held him close and tightly closed her eyes as the ship hit the ground.

A wave of pain then darkness.

*

Her eyes opened to darkness. Panicked, she picked herself up from a rocky floor and looked around, breathing heavily. She reached into her pocket, took out a small flash-light and shone it round. She was in a cave, Ilisa realised. The walls were brown and rough, the same as the floor and ceiling. The ship was nowhere to be found. She checked the ground, and she soon found what she was looking for; Strom was lying on the floor, looking broken in every way. A bead of sweat went down Ilisa's face; while she was glad to be alive, she was terrified. She swallowed her fear. "Who's there?" she called.

The voice that answered sounded less like a voice, and more like an echo inside her own head.. "You woke us. We helped you. We can help your friend."

Ilisa's brow furrowed. "You can help Strom? How?"

"The same way we survived." Ilisa could hear the voice drawing closer now. She swung the torch around and recoiled in shock at what she saw. It was humanoid, but its limbs were too long and its body too small. Its head was even more bizarre, with a round, entirely-circular mouth and only one large eye in the centre of their forehead, with flaps of skin covering where their eyes should be. Their skin was jet black, but not naturally so; the skin itself looked deformed and pockmarked. "The back-up project was to be our legacy, and it will help your friend. Give him a new body, with his old mind. A clone, if you will."

"But he'll still be...him?" Ilisa asked.

"Exactly the same."

"What are you?"

"My name is Ha'kuun. And for centuries we have been forgotten. But never gone. I am one of the last Orbans, and the Adjeti's back-up project saved our race."

Chapter 34

Orbus

Alarms screamed as red warning lights flashed throughout the Spire. Saiun separated himself from the fleeing crowd, running despite the numerous safety warnings, and closed the door to Cinradahs's office, silencing the sound of pounding footfalls entirely.

"What's happening sir?" Saiun sat on the desk next to his focused boss.

"The Xaosians are here." Cinradahs's voice was barely above a whisper. "The Orbital Defence System is engaging them for now, and the fighters should be ready for launch any minute now." He looked at Saiun with wide eyes. "I've got to guide them. I can't fight myself, look at me! So I have to guide them, command them."

Sensing his boss's fear, Saiun placed a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright; I'm here to help."

Cinradahs gave a weak smile, and placed his hand on the Quaren's. "Thank you."

He turned to a pair of screens; one showed the view from atop the Spire, and one showed the formation of Xaos's ships. After turning the combat-com on, he gave a single command.

"Launch."

Below the city of New Orbus, metal panels the size of houses slid open, and from them spewed a stream of small Peacekeeper-Class fighter ships, followed by the relatively massive Guardians and the troop-carrying Liberators. Personally, Cinradahs hated these names for machines of war, but he was always in awe when he watched them spill out of the city. Around the city, people stood still and watched, some in a stunned silence, and some whooping, not having realised what was going on.

Then the battle began. Peacemakers met the Reapers head on as the latter entered the atmosphere. Some Reapers took down Peacemakers. Some Peacemakers took down Reapers. Cinradahs yelled to the pilots, Saiun's hand on his shoulder, and the pilots yelled back. Some cheered as a Reaper went down, praying that the wreckage missed the city. Usually it did not, with black meteors tearing through homes. Missiles that were never fired exploded on the impact with the ground, buildings shattering, fires consuming, and the ground itself erupting in a flurry of green, brown and grey. People ran for their lives, but there was nowhere to go.

One man ran for his house, only to find it gone, only a burnt ruin remaining. He ran into the ruins, moving fragments of his home out of his way, until he found his children. Collapsing to his knees, he held their scorched corpses to his chest.

One woman dragged her friend, who seemed transfixed by the destruction, along by the arm, moving him out of harm's way as things fell from the sky above, denting the city itself. The force of the impact knocked them both down, trapping them under a shell of a Reaper. A group of fleeing people stopped and ran over, heaving and straining until the trapped couple were able to wriggle free.

In his office, Cinradahs shook his head, before signing off on the combat-com. "I can't do it anymore." He brushed Saiun's hand away and went over to another screen. "I'm not a tactician, I'm a diplomat." He picked up another com and opened a channel to The Dominion. "Xaos, stop this lunacy."

The warlord's gaze met his own through the screen. "This is not lunacy, minister. This is for the good of the Empire."

"How is taking over the Empire any good for the damn Empire?" Cinradahs roared at the screen.

Xaos smiled as if amused. "My vision for the Empire is good for it. A unified Empire."

"It was unified, until you attacked Raan!"

Xaos waved his hand at the screen. "Unnecessary; Raan's destruction or defeat had to happen for my vision to succeed. Now, I have new allies. The death of Tahkshi gave me Irin and Rat'hak. Buun joined me over a mutual agreement. Narcsia is gone. Raan is all but destroyed by quakes, which should unleash the Corlens."

"Hang on... quakes?" He had accepted that some planets would surrender, and he had calculated on Irin and Rat'hak, but Buun surprised him. Raan, however, surprised him more. "And what the hell are Corlens?"

"Now is not the time, nor the place. The Earth-Scorcher did its job, and that's all that needs to be said. While Raan had to be decimated, New Orbus does not have to suffer the same fate. Surrender, minister, and no further death shall come. Failure to do so will result in your extermination."

Cinradahs sighed and shook his head. "Tell me Xaos; what is your vision for the Empire? If I am to surrender, I want to know what you intend to do."

Xaos looked annoyed, but he indulged Cinradahs's curiosity. "This Empire is dying. We need to unite, and expand. Only by uniting our forces can we expand into possibly-hostile territory beyond the stars. We will take what we want in a glorious show of both scientific and military might. It will take an age, but it will be the age of enlightenment. All I want is for the best of the Empire."

Saiun glanced at Cinradahs, who was struggling with Xaos's vision; while expansion was an idea that the Empire had been toying over for some time now, it was always going to be a peaceful engagement. "I'm sorry Xaos, but while you may think that the endpoint of your vision justifies the means, I disagree. The endpoint of expansion would be amazing, but it could have been reached peacefully."

"No." Xaos's voice seemed to change, becoming more mechanical. "Your kind can never have peace. Even you are a hypocrite; suing for peace, then opting for war." Xaos shook his head. "If it's war you want, then I will call in my allies. The Pyrkagia Hive-Ships and the Irinian fleet will be here shortly. Remember; this is all on you. When the smoke clears, and I have won, the deaths will all be on you."

The screen turned black.

Cinradahs stumbled away from the screen as if dazed. Saiun rushed over to steady him, but Cinradahs pushed him away. "It's all on me," he muttered to himself, "All on me." He stood still, mouth slightly open, before he lifted his hand to it and listened to the destruction outside.

"It's not on you." Saiun stepped further towards him. "It's only on you if you lose. That's what the history books will say. If we win, it will be on Xaos. And we can win."

"Maybe." Cinradahs said quietly. "Maybe we can win." He shook his head. "But I doubt it. We need to win before the Irinians and Pyrkagia arrive."

Saiun pointed at the combat-com. "Then tell them."

Cinradahs nodded and walked over to the com, picking it up. He switched it on with a swipe of his thumb and took a deep breath. "Pilots of the Empire Fleet. We need to end this fight. The Xaosians have allies which are on their way; if we can defeat Xaos before then, we might have a chance of winning. You can do it."

*

Xaos observed his fleet in action. The Reapers, expendable machines, fought the similarly expendable Peacemakers in a battle that closely resembled moths dancing around a flame, rather than an actual space battle. With his Titans, however, the battle was much slower. The troop-carrying warships vastly outnumbered the amount of Liberator troop-carriers that the New Orbus fleet launched, but he had no equal to the massive Guardians, golden ships with thicker hulls and stronger cannons. However, his two smaller flagships accompanied him this time; The Dominion was almost breached on Raan, and it had spooked him. The repairs to the forcefield were finished now, and Xaos was satisfied with watching the battle from his floating fortress. Within his flagship sat enough firepower to single-handedly decimate at least half of New Orbus's fleet, but he knew that the ship wouldn't last long enough to be able to do so.

The voice in his ear whispered again, and Xaos repeated it as his com turned itself on. "Reapers, leave the Peacemakers and concentrate fire on the Guardians. Titans, split into two groups; one take out the Peacemakers, the other will drop off troops on New Orbus. Get down there and capture the city. Try not to kill too many; they could be," he thought of the Inducers, "very useful."

Receiving affirmatives in response, Xaos sunk back into his throne and watched the ships change course. Reapers veered towards the Guardians, using their slow speed against them. The Peacemakers followed the Reapers at first, before turning on the Titans. From behind, The Dominion began to fire on the Liberators, effectively throwing New Orbus's fleet into disarray. The voice in his ear, while droning and emotionless in sound, seemed pleased.

*

"How are the com teams doing?" Cinradahs strode over to another screen as Saiun checked the team's progress.

"They've broken through the Xaosian encryptions, but the encryptions keep changing and recoding themselves; they say they've never seen anything like it." Saiun glanced at Cinradahs to check his expression: it was the same blank face it had been since his talks with Xaos. "They're getting snippets, but that's about it."

"They've completely changed their formation," Cinradahs informed him, "messed us up for a bit, but the squad captains sorted it out. They should be fine up there; it's down here I'm worried about. Look." He pointed to a point on the largest screen, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Saiun was looking. "There are Titan troop-carriers headed for the city. One of the captains has rerouted his Peacemakers to intercept, but I'm not sure how much good it will do.; we still need to defeat Xaos before his backup arrives."

Saiun squinted at a smaller screen which made a quiet beeping sound. "Too late."

Cinradahs rushed over to the screen and his heart sunk as knees weakened; Pyrkagia Hive-Ships had entered the battlefield. He picked up the combat-com. "Everyone! Xaos's backup has arrived; the Hive-Ships are not your friend! Peacemakers, form a defensive wall between the planet and invaders. Everything else, destroy the Xaosian flagships. Blow them up, board them, I don't care. Just destroy them." He cut the com off, but placed it in his pocket.

"Rad, if the troops are coming," Saiun observed, "This building is the most likely target; shall we evacuate?"

Cinradahs nodded vigorously. "Yes, send the order, and then we'll get out of here."

Saiun punched buttons on a keypad, before confirming his intentions with voice commands. "It's done, let's go."

The stairs downwards were narrow and spiralled, and Cinradahs's large feet gave him hassle at the best of times. Now, running as fast as he could when having to take smaller steps, it was a deadly hazard. Almost tripping twice, Cinradahs decided to keep a hand hovering over the handrail for safety's sake. Saiun, having the naturally smaller, webbed feet of the Quarens, was untroubled by the stairs, but was worried about his superior. As they got lower, they began to hear the standard sounds of panic; rushed footsteps and screams, the former providing a percussion background to the shrill latter.

The room they were in was roughly about halfway up the Spire, and subsequently, it was a long way to the ground floor. But they ran together in near silence, pushing through the other people who emerged down on the lower floors, much to their dismay and anger. Curses and mutters followed them all the way to the ground floor, whereupon Cinradahs rushed to the open doors and took in the disaster first-hand.

Flames licked at even the tallest buildings around the spire, and several homes were only blackened skeletons, crumbling relics of what they once were. In the skies, Titans loomed, growing ever-larger in their descent. On the ground, flocks of people looked up at the enemy ships, and then looked at the growing crowd outside the Shard. From the Titans, black cylinders were fired out towards the surface; Combat-Pods. Smashing into the ground or buildings, the Xaosians would be kept safe thanks to the impact-softening gel surrounding them. Cinradahs registered the crowd's fear, and recognised it as his own amplified a thousand-times. Knowing he had to do something, he picked up a twisted metal beam and yelled to the crowd; "Don't just gawp at them! What are you waiting for?

"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 years, 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 released 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.

Cinradahs's com rang, but Saiun picked up. He listened to the message, before relaying back to Cinradahs:

"It's over. Xaos has fled, his flagships are ours, and his allies have either fled or been destroyed. We have won!"

Chapter 35

Ilisa 4

Ilisa was nearly bent double, having been carrying Strom over her shoulder for nearly an hour whilst following the near-silent Ha'kuun. The Orban walked with long strides, as befitted its much longer limbs, meaning Ilisa could barely keep up. She'd asked him to slow down twice, but he simply ignored her, or simply didn't hear her.

As she walked through the endless cave, the damp and dripping walls began to be replaced with walls covered in wires, some hanging loose, some buried inside the stone. She wasn't sure if the constant drip-drip-drip was more or less annoying than its whirring replacement. Her feet ached in her military-grade boots, and her knees and spine threatened to buckle under Strom's weight. Her arm wobbled as she held onto him, and she could feel beads of sweat running down her forehead and back, but she persevered; he was all she had left. She hadn't even noticed the darkness until her mind drifted to her nightmares, where she was alone, with no-one around to comfort her. It was the same in the ancient Orban caves, or, at least, she assumed that Ha'kuun wouldn't comfort her.

"How much further?" Her voice was strained and quiet.

Ha'kuun turned to her and stared, mouth not moving, as he answered. "Not far now." He seemed to notice her struggle. "Let us help."

He raised an arm and opened his hand, spreading its fingers wide. Ilisa felt Strom move, before he was lifted away from her. She opened her mouth to object, and outstretched her hand to try and grab him, but Strom simply floated in front of her. She looked in shock at Ha'kuun. "How are you doing that?"

"We could just as easily ask "how can you not?"." Ha'kuun moved his hand, moving Strom through the air as he did so. "Now hurry up; we don't know how long he has."

Ilisa composed herself, and hurried along after the fast-striding Orban.

The tunnels seemed to go on for miles, but she doubted that they actually did. The wires became more present the further she walked, until it seemed that the walls were more wire than stone. Ha'kuun followed them round, occasionally stroking one as he went by, as if he thought he could coerce the wires to tell him the way, although Ilisa assumed that he already knew. She hoped he already knew.

Strom hovered in front of Ha'kuun still, and Ilisa was surprised at how well she was taking this; theoretically, she should be freaking out right now, rather than just being slightly worried that the Orban might drop him. Evidently, she had more tolerance than she'd first thought. Or maybe, there was just not much left that would surprise her; the fact the Orbans were still alive was a pretty big one.

"So, how are you guys still alive?" She asked. "Your world is pretty dead."

"As we said," Ha'kuun spoke stiffly, "the Adjeti back-up project saved our lives. An underground bunker, with the ability to transfer minds between an original body and a clone. We were the first experiments, ready to have our minds transferred when the World-Burner shut off the power and destroyed our world. Our minds remained in the computer data-banks for hundreds of years as our original bodies died." He then looked directly at her. "But then you crashed here, and you must have knocked something into place, because it suddenly started to work."

Ilisa nodded. "Wow. Even after centuries, this tech still works?"

Ha'kuun nodded, not wishing to discuss this further. Ilisa cursed beneath her breath; Ha'kuun's on/off moods were beginning to piss her off. She could bear it for now, she told herself, at least until Strom was sorted.

They rounded the corner, and their destination was revealed; a gaping cave, with machinary embedded into the cave walls. Numerous computer panels and screens lined the walls with three pairs of cylinders. The cylinders were filled with a pale blue liquid and each pair was linked together by an array of cables. Out of the three pairs, two were in use; Orbans were still inside them, a dead body in one, the clone in another, while the cables hissed and glowed; the transferring of the mind was happening now.

Ha'kuun dropped Strom on the floor, and the thud of him hitting the floor sounded painful. Just as she was about to yell at the Orban, she remembered that Strom probably couldn't feel pain anymore, and that his body wouldn't be his for much longer. Ha'kuun was fiddling with various dials and buttons. Personally, Ilisa didn't know why he didn't just use his telekinesis to do it, but she didn't know how it works. Maybe she'd ask one of the other Orbans, they couldn't be much less bearable than Ha'kuun.

He stopped his fiddling and walked over to the empty pair of cylinders. "Put him in." Ha'kuun commanded, opening one of them. Ilisa wanted to tut at him; Strom was bloody heavy, and Ha'kuun had fancy mind powers. "Take his clothes off. They could interfere with the cloning process."

While Ilisa found this unlikely, due to cloning just being about DNA, she did so anyway; she wasn't certain if the cloning was here used accelerated versions of what scientists theorised on Irin. She picked him up, and carefully placed him in the tube. "Hold him." Ha'kuun demanded, before strapping him into the machines, keeping him standing up straight. He then attached nodules to Strom head, closed the door, and flicked a switch. The liquid inside the cylinders began to bubble and fizz as something began to grow in the empty cylinder in the pair.

Ilisa felt her stomach knot; she really hoped that this would work.

Chapter 36

Trexor 6

The military base had somehow survived the quake, and Admiral Fairns had taken control of the recovery mission, from what Trexor had heard. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea; facts and rumours are distorted all the time. Which is why he had told no-one about the creatures in the chasm yet; he and Trem held a silent agreement on that fact.

They had been walking around for hours, and digging for about half as long. No more survivors, only hundreds of corpses. Strangely, Trexor found that it didn't bother him as much now; he must have became accustomed with the broken bodies. It was only the smaller, younger corpses which touched his heart. However, he was content in the fact that he hadn't seen another one of the silver creatures. While they didn't attack him, he couldn't be certain that they weren't aggressive. The optimist inside him told him that they weren't dangerous. But the general inside him told him to be cautious and, in these times, the general had to be prevalent.

"Where are we?" Trem asked, evidently not recognising the landscape.

Trexor didn't recognise it either; the destruction was too much. "I...I don't know."

A brick tumbled from the remains of a building. Caught off guard by the sound, Trexor's hand found itself on his gun before he knew it. Noting that there was nothing but gravity at work, he relaxed, slowly and cautiously moving his hand away from his gun.

Trem sighed deeply. "We're all a bit paranoid today, it's fine."

"It's not fine." Trexor spat. "I'm meant to be a damned General, not an amateur troop with anxiety issues."

Trem considered this briefly, before staying silent.

Together, they walked over to where the brick fell; they knew that the silver creatures probably weren't there, but there could be someone buried in the rubble. Trexor began to shift the rubble, the newly-formed blisters on his fingers burning as he did so. Trem joined in, never ceasing; his gloves helped protect his hands. Personally, Trexor tried to keep his expression blank, but he could see the strained features on Trem's face as he hoped for a sign of life.

The recoil.

Pale skin.

Twisted body.

Dead eyes.

Trexor buried the corpse over again, putting a hand on Trem's shoulder, and led him away from the rubble; they had genuinely thought that someone was alive. They walked slowly away, still in silence. Trem sniffed, and Trexor realised that he was quietly crying. He wiped his eyes and sniffed again, before stopping. Trexor tried to look away, realising that Trem would probably appreciate his privacy.

Trexor looked around, and a shiver went down his spine.

Molten silver shifted around a brown, stony body as one of the creatures, larger than before, prowled around the wreckage. Trem put an arm out, stopping Trexor from going any further.

"Let's go." Trem whispered. "No need to go any further, we can't fight them."

"I need to see what it is." Trexor sighed. "As my duty as a general, I need to find out."

He walked carefully over, tiptoeing around the wreckage to make no noise. Crouching down, he moved slowly forward, Trem following much more gracefully behind. The creature hadn't seemed to notice, and was still looking away. Continuing on his path, Trexor's heartbeat sped up as he got closer.

He stubbed his toe on a brick. It rolled down, clinking as it did so. Trexor swore under his breath as the creature looked around. Trem dragged Trexor to the floor. "Down." He hissed.

The creature's gaze rested on them, and it slowly crept over. Trexor noted its own cautiousness, which seemed to match his own. Its head split open and a scraping shriek escaped from its throat. Trexor flinched back, noticing that Trem did the same.

"It sounds angry." Trexor backed away along the floor.

"Well, we disturbed it, what did you expect?" Trem followed the backing away, shifting back on his elbows.

"I don't know, don't know what the thing is."

Suddenly, the creature was looming over them. Trexor panicked, struggling to get to his feet and falling again. Trem got up quickly, pushing himself up off the ground and drawing a knife, holding it out in front of him, presenting it to the creature as a threat. "Stay back!" Trem crept backwards, offering a hand to Trexor, who took it and pulled himself up. Trexor put a hand on his gun, ready to draw and shoot if the creature took another step towards them.

The creature crouched down, before pouncing. Trem moved out of the way in time, but Trexor was pinned down by the creature. Trexor drew his gun and fired, but the creature absorbed it into itself. Trem stabbed his knife into the creature. It ignored it, batting Trem away with seemingly no effort. Trexor moved his head just in time to avoid a claw to the face. The creature roared in his face, before fleeing.

Trexor and Trem picked themselves up and brushed themselves off, watching the silver creature disappear into the distance.

"Where's it going?" Trem asked.

"No idea." Trexor replied.

They stood on the spot, reflecting on what just happened.

Chapter 37

Ash 3

The nights were dark, and no stars could be seen. No light could be seen after Carnat turned the lights off. Ash lay awake every night, not trusting the darkness, perhaps even fearing it. Sometimes he closed his eyes and watched the dreams unfold before him, but he could not relax at night. He slept in the evenings or mornings, requesting Carnat to look over him, which he agreed to do. Ash wasn't sure why he was afraid of the dark, but he assumed it stayed with him from what he referred to as his "past-life".

Hearing Carnat moving, Ash nudged him. "Carnat."

"What?" Carnat slurred, still half-asleep. "Ash?"

"Why are people afraid of the dark?" Ash stammered.

"Well..." Carnat sighed. "From what I understand, you're no technically afraid of the dark, you're afraid of whatever you associate with darkness."

Ash shrugged. "I don't know what I associate with darkness; I think it was from...before."

Carnat tutted. "I'd hoped you'd remembered something by now; after all this build-up, the truth's bound to be disappointing."

Ash chuckled. "You're probably right. Well, disappointing for you. I don't really see my life being that eventful."

"Until you wound up on Rat'hak without any memory." Carnat's sarcasm dripped through his voice. "And however you ended up here. And whatever you fear in the dark."

"Yeah, fair enough." Ash nodded in agreement.

"Any ideas?" Carnat asked.

It took Ash a moment to realise that Carnat was asking about his fear. "I think it was the last thing I saw before my memories were lost. There are faceless men in my dreams, surrounded by darkness."

"Are you afraid of them?" Carnat sounded uncertain. "Or of the fact that you came here in darkness?"

Ash considered it. "Probably both."

Carnat nodded. "Yep, that's about right. Anyway, enough of that crap, I'm hungry."

As Carnat said that, Ash's stomach rumbled. "Breakfast sounds good."

There was already a plate of generic food cubes in front of the door, which cheered Ash up; usually, they'd have to ask and barter with the guards. "You know, you can fault this place all you like, but at least we get three meals a day." Ash observed, taking a cube.

"Shit meals."

"Even so, they're better than nothing."

"Yeah, probably."

Ash popped the cube into his mouth, chewing the soft and slightly moist lump. Painstakingly, he swallowed with a gulp. "Ugh, everytime they are worse than I remember."

Carnat agreed. "See? Shit meals."

Ash gave a sharp laugh. "Yeah, they are."

Silence as they ate. Carnat ate quickly to get the taste over and done with, but Ash ate slowly, not wanting to carry on tasting them.

When the plate was empty, Ash belched and asked Carnat a question. "We got any more fights soon?"

"Yeah, tomorrow, I think." Carnat smiled. "Try not to miss your shot this time."

"I'll try." Ash hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine buddy, don't worry about it." Carnat put a hand on Ash's shoulder.

"No, it's not." Ash shook his head. "I could've gotten both of us killed."

Carnat pulled Ash into a hug. "You could have. But you didn't; you got a second chance. Make it count tomorrow."

"I'll try."

"No." Carnat broke away and stared him in the eye. "You will. You won't just try; I believe in you. You just need to believe in yourself." Carnat moved back. "Yuck, that was cringey."

Ash laughed. "Yeah, it kinda was." His tone turned more serious. "But thanks. I won't let you down again."

"No. You won't."
Chapter 38

Foton 5

"Lyss Fown" entered Irin after a long, albeit uneventful flight. As soon as he stopped off the ship, he put the hood of his brown jacket over his head; he didn't want to be recognised. He figured that it was unlikely that he would be, he could never be too careful. Hands in pockets, head down, Foton walked out of the spaceport. He'd always had a love/hate relationship with spaceports; he loved the variety of races and their ships, but he hated the crowds. Although he could blend in with the crowd, Foton tended to prefer people separated more sparsely; less chance of recognition.

Reaching into his pockets, he found the small silver cube that the Blind Assassin had given to him. On the flight, he had tried to open it, but it was a sealed unit; the only way to open it would be break it apart. While he was tempted to break it apart, he realised that he might break the electronics within, which would mess up his mission and probably see him killed.

In his other pocket, was a small ID badge with his target's name and picture on. No address, which annoyed Foton. Apparently, his target was Professor Tujin Diank, a balding middle-aged Irinian. Foton didn't know what he had done to whoever wanted him dead; he rarely knew. Sometimes, the Assassins were hired by government agencies or Enforcers to catch and kill criminals that had eluded them; the Assassins could do things that they could not. Mostly, however, they were hired by private parties to do their dirty work. Occasionally it was satisfying work, but Foton figured that this one wouldn't be.

He looked around for a bit, observing the shining architecture; buildings were fluid and asymmetrical, and left Foton in awe of the amount of detail and planning which went into them. The dome which surrounded the city could only be seen if you were trying to see it, and even then you only noticed a slight discretion in the way that the light passed through. Apparently, the beautiful architecture was even better in the capital city, but Foton was glad he wasn't there; too many people and government officials that might recognise him. Luckily, the Assassins had given him a ticket to the right city, which he was thankful for; transport between the domed cities was a pain in the arse.

After asking around the city, Foton was able to find out where he lived; right in the centre of the city. Wanting to get this over with, he called a taxi, which ferried him over. When he arrived, he circled the house, observing it from different angles. Compared to most buildings, this was rather simple; standard cube ground-floor, and a seperate cube for the top floor. However, the top floor was turned 45 degrees on it Z-axis, giving the impression that the architecture had been twisted in a giant's hand.

Leaping in to its back-garden, Foton landed without a sound. That was a technique many Assassins learn; distribute your weight fully, change your centre of gravity, and you will make no sound on the ground. Taking out a small computer-chip, he held it to a panel on the door. In an instant, the chip replicated the necessary data required to enter the house. As the door slid open, Foton crept inside. Sensing movement, the motion-sensitive lights came on, illuminating the room. There was nothing of interest to Foton in the hallway, nor in the kitchen. The living room was empty too, aside from two sofas and a large screen which took up half of a wall. Nodding in approval, Foton crept upstairs. Poking around in the rooms, he realised, as he had suspected, that there was no-one home. He found the room which appeared to be Tujin's study. Rifling through the blueprints and documents on his desk, Foton soon found a printed email from the laboratory where Tujin worked. Most importantly, it had the lab's address on; not far from his house.

When Foton arrived at the lab, he found it quite plain and boring compared to the other buildings. Good; it makes it easier to navigate. Scaling the building with a pair of stat-mag gloves – static-magnetic; can attach to anything with a static charge – Foton broke in through an open window, climbing in silently. Instantly, he heard whistling, but he listened out for other voices. The whistling stopped, giving him a chance to hear footsteps as well. Unsurprisingly, Foton heard no other footsteps; no-one wanted to work this time of evening.

Walking into the corridor, Foton slowly made his way through the building and down the stairs. He could see Tujin now, too busy on a screen to notice. He was smaller in real-life than he'd looked on the picture Foton had seen, but everything else was pretty much spot-on.

Foton waited until he was near to his target, before standing up straight and putting his hidden-blade into a "ready" position. "Tujin Diank?" Foton continued walking towards him as he turned around.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Tujin stepped back, cowering as Foton got closer.

"Don't struggle." Foton thrust the hidden-blade under Tujin's ribs, and up into his heart. Tujin slumped with a grunt, and Foton pulled the blade out, before wiping the blood on it onto Tujin's clothes. Carefully, Foton put a hand into his pocket and pulled out Blind Assassin's silver cube, placing it next to Tujin's bleeding corpse. A crackle of electricity flashed between the box and Tujin's implant, making Foton back away. They both flashed for a moment, before going back to being still. Foton looked at them suspiciously; there was more going on here than the Blind Assassin was letting on.

Chapter 39

Keinam 1

Engines roared as Keinam's Wing-Ship entered New Orbus's atmosphere. Scores of ships flew past him, both Adjeti and human. United in victory, none of the human craft fired upon the Adjeti's, which surprised Keinam; from what he remembered of the humans, they were a violent and primitive race. Evidently their desperation to win the battle had outweighed their aggressive natures. Keinam was glad that a couple of centuries had furthered their evolution.

He pulled the Wing-Ship down past the flaming city. As he rushed past, he could see fallen buildings and pillars of smoke, his Adjeti forces storming the streets and taking down the remaining Xaosians. From his perspective, it didn't look like there were many left, but the amount of Xaosian corpses was far less than civilian corpses. Keinam briefly considered mourning, before realising that no-one, none of them, would have ever mourned the Adjeti's loss. He may have saved them, but they would probably still persecute them. Otor's idea of peace with the humans here sounded nice, but it was just a fantasy; Keinam didn't trust them.

Ignoring the city for now, he steered his ship down to the surface and underneath New Orbus, landing on the firm stone of Orbus itself; as far as knew, no-one had been here since it was incinerated by the World-Burner. Keinam cursed under his breath; the Pyrkagia had used the Adjeti's weapon against Orbus, and everyone, understandably, assumed that it was the Adjeti. But no-one would listen to the Warchiefs' words, and the humans used the World-Burner against its creators. Or so they had thought.

Keinam smiled at the trickery he had orchestrated in order to save his world, his race. Yes, many died, and the uprisings on Oblivion were brutal and unnecessary, but were thousands died, millions remained; he had won. He hadn't yet lost a battle; he had been close many times, but he had always pulled through.

He exited his ship and put his ear to the ground, knocking on the stone. Not noticing out of the ordinary, he moved on a few standards, before repeating. This time, he noticed a different sound to the knuckles-on-stone; more like knuckles-on-metal. He moved a standard to the left, and knocked again: stone. Two standards right and he found a louder knock of metal, camouflaged as stone.

Smiling to himself, he donned his exoskeleton, feeling the warmth of the liquid bone flow over his body before solidifying. Both his actual bones and exoskeleton cracked as he twisted his hand into a blade form. It hurt at first, but when the blade was fully formed, the pain subsided. He plunged the blade into the metal beneath, a high-pitched scratch piercing his ears. He ignored it and persevered, cutting a hole in the camouflaged metal large enough for him to drop down.

He gripped the sides, and lowered himself in, then dropped. Feet hit the ground with a thud after a brief fall. Looking around, he saw wires lining the walls and he knew he was on track. He followed the wires as they grew ever-denser, letting him know he was on the right track.

Moving through the caves, he soon began to hear movement and a strange bubbling sound; could it be that someone had got here before him? The narrow caves began to grown wider, until it opened into a large room. The first thing he saw was an Orban at a computer, and he thought he recognised it.

"Ha'kuun?" Keinam asked.

The Orban turned around, showing no surprise to Keinam. "Ah, Warchief...Keinam, was it?"

Keinam had never really got used to the Orban voices when they entered his head. "Yeah, I'm Keinam. What happened here? How are alive?"

Ha'kuun seemed confused by the question. "Your back-up project. Do you not remember?"

"I know that much." Keinam remembered the back-up project; a cloning chamber with a mind transferring system. After discovering that the brain communicated via electricity, the logistics of storing it briefly inside a server seemed possible. This bunker was preserved beneath the ground; in case of disaster, a few Orbans could shelter and be reborn after their original bodies died. "But how did you awaken from your tubes?"

"Her." Ha'kuun pointed to a dark-haired young human female. "She accidentally awakened us again when her ship crashed here."

Keinam nodded, before rounding on the woman. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ilisa, and I'm from Raan." Ilisa seemed terrified at the sight of Keinam.

Keinam shed his exoskeleton, allowing it to drain back inside his chest. "Are you the only human here?"

"No." Ha'kuun answered. "Her partner is in the tube."

Keinam took a deep breath; stay calm. "What is he doing in the tube?"

"Being revived of course." Another Orban interjected. "His body was dead, but his mind was sound. Ilisa awakened us, it seemed fair to repay her actions."

Keinam considered it, and eventually conceded. "Fine." He turned to Ilisa. "You stay here until your partner wakes. I need one of the Orbans."

"I'd planned to stay." Ilisa's voice was loud and defiant.

"Why do you need an Orban?" Ha'kuun asked.

Keinam smiled. "You have no idea what's happened over the last couple of centuries, do you?"

Ha'kuun shook his head. "All I know is that our world is mostly dead, aside from that new city the humans built."

"My race was blamed for your planet's death, and persecuted. We had to hide beyond the Oblivion Gate, and to save Oblivion, we were trapped there for all this time. Long story short, anyway."

"Hang on," Ilisa spoke up, "You're an Adjeti?"

Keinam forced a smile. "Well done, dear. Yes I am." Keinam turned and walked away, beckoning Ha'kuun to come with him. It was a shame that Keinam couldn't see Ilisa's expression; he imagined that it was shocked, angered and perplexed in one hideous combination.

"Why do you need me?" Ha'kuun asked.

"To prove our innocence." Keinam walked ahead of Ha'kuun, looking over his shoulder to ensure that the Orban was still following. "We have footage proving our innocence, but footage can be doctored. But your testimony and existence cannot be faked."

"We will take down the Pyrkagia." Ha'kuun's voice took on an vicious tone. "Shame we couldn't stop them before," he gestured to everything around him, "this."

"We tried. We couldn't get there in time." Keinam had never counted that in his battle losses; there had been no battle, as they were too late. "I killed the Primary earlier; that was a sweet victory. They should be in disarray now."

"Revenge will be sweet."

"It will."

Chapter 40

Maron 1

The Dominion hovered over the Grand Park on New Orbus, landing ramp extended so that it touched the ground; the flagship was too large to land in the park without causing further damage. The corpses were taken off the ship first, carried by the commanding officers. Soldier after soldier was carried past Maron as he waited near the ramp with the survivors. Xaosian corpses were left on board, and the prisoners were in chains like animals. Maron looked at them with disgust even as the last corpse was brought out. Now it was the turn of the injured to limp out, holding on to other soldiers as they did so. Maron walked over to a struggling soldier who seemed to be dragging his foot along the floor.

"Come here." Maron said quietly, putting his arm under his comrade's, supporting his weight and lifting him slightly. The soldier weighed more than he'd expected, but he managed.

"Thanks." The soldier lifted his foot off the ground and leant on Maron, who grimaced at the extra weight.

"No problem." Maron noticed the seeping red hole in the soldier's leg. "What's your name?"

"Rals." He grunted. "Yours?"

"Maron. Now come on Rals, we need to get you out of here."

They began their slow walk down the landing ramp to the cheers of the ordinary citizens. Maron smiled; it was nice to appreciated for a change. In the army, there was little individuality, only ranks, so appreciation never really affected the lower ranks. When they go to the bottom, he let Rals go, and the younger soldier sat on the ground. "Wait for a doctor." Maron said sternly as he took his armour off. "You'll be fine."

"Where are you going?" Rals called as Maron dropped his armour to the floor.

"Home." Maron called back.

As he walked through the park, people came up to him with messages of praise and thanks. Some stayed back and stared, which he much preferred; the crowds wanted to be around him, but he felt cramped and he could feel their arms against his, feet against feet, and eyes burning him; his claustrophobia was returning. He pushed his way through the mob, more forcefully than he intended to. Someone gasped and others muttered, but he ignored them.

He felt their stares on his back as he strode through the park, but he ignored them; they didn't know him, he didn't know them. When did personal space cease to exist? He coughed as he walked quickly away, and decided to slow down. His lungs burned as he coughed again, hunching over as he did so. Silently cursing the damned Ukafa Sticks, he stood still, breathing deeply until he was able to breathe properly again.

The park wasn't far from where he lived, but he couldn't quite see his house from where he was. Heading over to the eastern part of the park, he began to see the clumps of mud and grass that had been torn from the ground. Then he began to see the wreckage. Homes fallen to the ground, piles of uneven chunks littered the ground. Most homes were still standing, but a few of them were ailed with a broken window or fire damage. The streets were not as bad as he'd expected; some were ruined, looking as if someone had taken a carving knife to it. Some, however, were fine, but littered with wreckage. Corpses lay about, mostly human, with a Xaosian corpse appearing every now and then. He put his hand to his mouth; how much more devastation would have been wreaked if they hadn't stopped the Xaosians? What if they come back?

Maron took a deep breath and turned back around; he was prepared to give up the fighting, or at least rest at home for a few days. But Xaos won't rest. Their allies won't rest; they fled. They could return. He knew what he had to do.

Walking back towards The Dominion, he passed the crowd again and he hung his head, apologising to them as he walked through. They stepped back, but seemed to accept the apology with a nod.

"I thought you were going home." Maron turned to see Rals looking at him with a curious look on his face.

"I was going to." Maron sat down on the grass next to him. "But then I thought about all the people who were murdered here, all the destruction. If I went home, and turned my back on fighting, then I'd be turning my back on everyone here. The Xaosians need to be stopped, and the army needs all the help it can get."

Rals nodded. "I get you there. That's why I want to keep fighting." He pointed at his leg, which was now wrapped in a white cast. "That cast thing's been given to the soldiers who want to fight on; heals the injuries quicker."

Maron looked at Rals and assessed him quickly; good-looking lad, probably about twenty years his junior. Weighed a lot for his athletic frame, so dense muscle. Sound morals. "You got any family, buddy?"

"Yeah, but they're back on Prauw." He gave a dry laugh. "Bet they're shitting it worrying about me." Maron smiled at this sentiment. "You got any family?"

Maron's smiled vanished. "Did. Parents died of old age a few months back and I'm an only child."

Rals's features saddened. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Maron forced a smile. "Yeah, so am I. I fell to bits after they died, alienated everyone around me." He coughed, and pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside were about half a dozen sticks; Ukafa Sticks. "Smoked more of these after that. Smoked anyway. Got it under control now, though. Mind if I..." Rals waved him on, and Maron took one out and placed it in his mouth, before offering the pack to Rals, who shook his head. Maron patted his pockets until he found his lighter, and igniting the stick.

Breathing in, the sting of the Ukafa set in, the tang in the back of the throat. Muscles relaxed and he briefly closed his eyes, enjoying both the taste and the relaxation it gave him. Breathing out, a small puff of smoke came out, but not as much as the old kind; he remembered those damn things.

"Filthy habit." Rals joked.

"I know." Maron agreed, nodding. "But I love it. It relaxes me. What relaxes you?"

Rals seemed to think about it for a moment. "Usually, I just look at the view from my apartment; you can see right across the biodomes and another of the fields. From there, the stones of Orbus. Beautiful. Calms me everytime."

"Not exactly portable, is it?" Maron asked.

"I find I can close my eyes when stressed, and I can feel my way back there, to my apartment window and stare at the fields, and the stone. Nature calms me. Beauty calms me."

Maron looked at Rals. "You'd make a great poet. You stick to beauty, I'll stick to drugs." He stubbed his Stick out on the grass, then throwing the stub somewhere behind him. "And when we go out again – to battle I mean – I'll make sure we get put together; maybe we can enlighten each other."

Rals chuckled. "I don't need enlightening."

"We all need enlightening at some point. Ukafa just helps."

Chapter 41

Guran 1

The skies of Oblivion were a pale blue, with not a cloud in the sky. Aeros zipped about above the streets of Tiyunso, the Adjeti city most associated with Oblivion's history. Usually, it would be the capital of the planet which would be the most historic, but Oblivion's capital has changed many times over the centuries. No-one had told Guran why exactly, but he assumed that it was something to do with population shifts; as one place becomes popular, people flock to it like moths to a flame. In order to keep up, the centre of operations on Oblivion would move to these areas, establishing its control over the new capital.

What Guran was also surprised by was the number of non-Adjeti living on Oblivion. As a human family walked past, he noticed most Adjeti getting on with their business. Guran found this odd until he asked his Adjeti guide, Finoh, why they accepted them while hating much of the Empire.

"Because they stayed." Finoh responded with a tone beyond his years. "They stayed when everyone else turned against us, and we thank them for it. Many of them were slaughtered here, but the hate groups were shut down and dealt with accordingly. They are not just allies of the Adjeti, they are Adjeti now. They act like us, think like us, and live among us. There are others, former migrants from all corners of the Empire, even some Xaosians like yourself. Not many, but there are some."

"Never would have known there was so many." Guran was in awe of this; a while ago, he hadn't believed Oblivion was still flourishing and alive, and he still couldn't quite believe it. Now, the revelation that Oblivion was multi-cultural, as opposed to the purely Adjeti haven it was purported to be.

"There are some villages comprised fully of immigrants, choosing to live away from us. We send them food and materials they need." Finoh frowned. "Keinam may say that he hates humans, but he has lived among these for so long, he's forgotten that they are human. He thinks of humans as the heartless bastards who helped to damn our world; they didn't speak out, and they helped the Pyrkagia take control of the World-Burner. He hates the Empire, and almost everything in it. Otor seems to have softened against humans, but hardened against Xaosians...except you."

"Dunno why." Guran shrugged.

"You were the only person in about two-hundred years who didn't hate him." Finoh seemed agitated by Guran's uncertainty.

They arrived at the busy city square. Surrounded by high-rise buildings, the paths were lined by thick, green hedges and, in the centre of a circle of hedges, was a huge statue carved atop four trees.

"What's the statue?" Guran asked.

"Four tree trunks standing storeys high, all twisted and carved into the first Adjeti Warchief, Adecin." Finoh paused. "He's kind of like a god to a few groups of Adjeti."

"Do you think that?"

Finoh had a strange look on his face. "Of course not. He was just the same as us, just more primitive. He didn't advance our race; he started a civil war and, when he won, proclaimed himself ruler of Oblivion."

Guran shook his head and smiled. "There's so much we don't know about your planet. It seems to have such a deep history, and we know nothing about it."

Finoh smiled. "Do you wish to visit the archives?"

Guran wanted to jump for joy, but was able to compose himself. "Certainly."

Pulling his Adjeti-made coat around him, he noticed that the wind had picked up. Glancing at the sky, he saw that the pale blue sky had a greenish tinge to it. "Is that normal?" Guran pointed at the sky.

Finoh followed his gaze. "Not that I've seen before, no. Maybe it's something to do with the gate being opened. Now come on; we've got the archives to explore."

Guran followed Finoh through the streets until they found the old, stone library building; the archives were in the basement, below the research and fiction books on the upper floors. It looked, from the outside, like an ancient fortress. For all Guran knew, it could well have been. With one last concerned look at the sky, Guran entered the library.

Chapter 42

Cinradahs 3

Adjeti?

While Cinradahs could agree that the beings that had saved New Orbus certainly looked like old sketches of the long-dead race, he had a hard time believing that there were any left in the Empire. Oblivion was a dead world; he had never been there himself, but the pictures showed a world that could never have been lived on. Maybe a few had survived, but this was not just a small colony; this was a full military operation.

Cinradahs watched as one of the beings, slightly larger than the others, and with gold markings on its armour, came over to him. "Are you in charge here?" It asked forcefully.

Standing up, Cinradahs began to notice how bad his shoulder was again. "I suppose so, yes. Who's asking?"

Cinradahs noticed a flare of annoyance in the thing's eyes. Then, its armour seemed to peel back off of the thing's red skin, before reaching the centre of its chest, disappearing entirely. Underneath was just some casual clothes, made from a gold-dyed leather. "My name is Keinam. Warchief Keinam, one of the rulers of the Adjeti race." Keinam cocked his head. "You are sceptical of my claim."

Cinradahs made a noise of exasperation. "Well, obviously; your world is dead, and your race with it."

Keinam moved closer to Cinradahs. "Look around; do we look dead to you? Look at our ships. Do they look like they were made on a dead world by a dead race? No. Our world is just as alive as it was before the World-Burner was built."

Cinradahs shook his head. "I've seen pictures of Oblivion; it's a lifeless husk. If that was how it was in its most prosperous years, then the Adjeti weren't exactly what they were built up to be."

Keinam took a deep breath. "You don't know how much I want to kill you all and take our Empire back. The rest of the Empire – Our Empire! – sentenced us to death. You would be nothing without us."

"Your kind destroyed this world, what did you expect?" A line of people began to gather nearby; close enough to hear, but far enough away to not get caught up in any fight that might arise.

"Our weapon destroyed this world, but we did not fire it." Keinam was quiet, as if he was playing his trump card. Cinradahs stepped back, suspicious. "And we can prove that it was the Pyrkagia."

Gasps echoed around the line, and Cinradahs recoiled in shock. While he didn't quite believe it, he could understand it; the Pyrkagia had been enemies with both the Adjeti and their Orban allies since they encountered one another, and, from what he had read, the Primary at the time pushed for the World-Burner to be used on Oblivion; what a way to dispose of two races they despised. Why had no-one seen this?

"Yes, the Orbans had wanted to stop fighting the Pyrkagia. Yes, the Adjeti were annoyed. But we would not have fired on them; it was purely defensive against any hostile beings entering our Empire from beyond the stars." Keinam glanced around, as if looking for something. "Ha'kuun. Come here."

A black humanoid walked over. With a smaller body and longer limbs, this thing looked truly alien even before Cinradahs saw its single eye. "What the hell is that?" He muttered.

Keinam shot him a disgusted look. "Show some respect." He turned to look at the hideous creature.

The thing bowed in front of the two leaders. "Human leader. Keinam." It returned to a standing position as Cinradahs touched his temple; it sounded like the voice was in his head.

"It's ok." Keinam muttered. "That's how Orbans speak; through your head."

"My name is Ha'kuun." The line of people nearby could obviously hear him now. "And I am one of the last Orbans."

Cinradahs knew that he should have been as shocked as the crowd, but he just wasn't; evidently, his reactions had been blunted. "Orbans?" Cinradahs asked. "You didn't die out?"

"Not all of us. There are seven of us left." Cinradahs raised an eyebrow at Ha'kuun's optimistic approach. "Thanks to the Pyrkagia." The voice in Cinradahs's head seemed to somehow curdle. "We will kill them. Destroy them as they destroyed us."

Cinradahs nodded, dazed. "Yes." He turned to Keinam. "How did Oblivion survive?"

Keinam called to another Adjeti. "Otor!"

Another Adjeti came forward, covered in scar tissue and bruises. Cinradahs couldn't help but feel pity for him; he looked like he'd been tortured.

Otor nodded at Cinradahs and Ha'kuun. "Oblivion survived thanks to me and Keinam. We got wind of the plan to destroy our world, but we also worked out that you had only one way to do so; firing the World-Burner's laser through the Oblivion Gateway. We didn't have much time, so all we could do was simply change the gateway's coordinates, meaning it led from this Empire, to some dead world we'd found centuries before. Unfortunately, the gateway was built from this side, meaning that we neglected to put the controls on both sides; the Adjeti had no way back when the coordinates changed." Otor cleared his throat. "I ended up on Xaos, stranded and unable to leave. Until I was captured, tortured, and forced to make an "Earth-Scorcher" for their army." Cinradahs couldn't help feeling sorry for him. "Eventually, I convinced him that my world was alive and we would join his army. He allowed me to go to the Gateway, and I changed the coordinates back, forming the link to Oblivion once more."

Cinradahs nodded. "Actually a brilliant plan." He meant that genuinely. Then something occurred to him. "You built the Earth-Scorcher?"

Otor knelt down in front of Cinradahs, head down. "There is nothing I can do but apologise and hope you all forgive me." Otor paused. "They tortured me, threatened to kill me; I had to survive to bring everyone back!" He finished in a small voice. "I never thought they'd use it."

"What is the Earth-Scorcher?" Keinam asked.

"A weapon similar to the World-Burner, but smaller in scale." Otor muttered.

"The Xaosians used it on Raan." Cinradahs said, before remembering what Xaos had said. "He said that he need to kill the humans to unleash the-"

"Corlens." Keinam nodded. "Much more powerful than your primitive race." Cinradahs's face twisted into what he knew was annoyance, and Keinam smiled to see the expression. "The Xaosians will pay even more now. Maybe we'll exterminate them."

Cinradahs looked at Keinam with wide eyes. "Exterminate them? No! You punish those who need punishing, no more."

Keinam closed the distance between them with a single step. "Did anyone give my race that mercy? No thought besides extermination. While I'm glad you evolved from your aggressive natures, I hadn't expected you to become so naïve to your former mistakes."

Cinradahs stepped back. "You know I had no part in your punishment; don't take it out on the entire human race."

Keinam faltered. "I guess you're right."

"I don't blame you for being bitter though." Cinradahs massaged his shoulder; it hurt like a bitch.

It looked like Keinam was going to retort, but he calmed himself. "I have a deal for you: we will help you defeat the Xaosians in war – no extermination – if we can wreak our revenge on the Pyrkagia."

Cinradahs sighed; he was in charge, it was all on him. Again. He felt he made the right decision before, and there was no way he could defeat the Xaosians without them. "Your revenge on the Pyrkagia?"

"I won't exterminate them, if that's what you want to hear. I will defeat them." Keinam's tone seemed suspicious, but Cinradahs ignored it. "Get up Otor."

Otor stood, head still bowed.

Cinradahs looked at the pathetic Adjeti, and then at Keinam, before extending a hand. "Allies?" He asked.

Keinam smiled, and took his head. "You're not bad... for a human. Allies."

They shook, and then broke apart.

"First thing's first." Keinam's tone was more authoritative now. "We should check out the Raanian situation; Corlens are dangerous creatures if disturbed. Undisturbed, they're quite docile, but I imagine that the earthquake probably riled them up."

Cinradahs nodded. "Let's get the injured patched up before we go."

Keinam nodded, leading Ha'kuun and his Adjeti away. "We'll be waiting by our ships."

Saiun jogged over to Cinradahs. "You ok?" He put his hand on Cinradahs's wound and called for a doctor. One stepped forward and began to get to work on Cinradahs's shoulder.

"I'm fine." Cinradahs grabbed Saiun's hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm fine."

Chapter 43

Tors 6

Kivina assured Tors and Cane that the silver device in her ear was broken, and lost its connection with whatever transmitted the signal sometimes, before Cane could remove it. The device took over again at one point, leading to two Scalimen deaths, which she seemed greatly remorseful for. Later on, however, she had brought Cane, who had extended medical training, a pair of tweezers, a scalpel and some stitches. When she did so, he gave her a strange look.

"Stitches and a scalpel? Bit much?"

Kivina shook her head. "I dunno how deep it is. I dunno how Xaos got it in there in the first place. I tried to pull it out before, but it wouldn't come out."

Tors glanced at Cane, who shrugged. "Could very well be attached to part of your brain." Cane said softly. "I have medical training, but I'm no brain surgeon."

She grabbed his hand. "Please. It's for your sake too."

Tors nodded. "It is. I'll help you out Cane."

"I will too." Pandora chipped in. "We patched your knee up together, we can do this too."

Cane chuckled. "Not exactly the same thing, but I would appreciate the help. Thanks guys."

Kivina drank a thick purple liquid and struggled to swallow. "The anaesthetic will kick in soon. Please give it about five minutes before you start hacking away."

As her eyes closed, Tors turned to Cane. "Can we do this?"

Cane sighed. "I have no idea what we're dealing with." He shook his head. "If we can't, we'll probably kill her. Which means that they'll kill us."

"If we can help her, she might be able to help us escape." Tors remembered the cold night before. "We can't stay here much longer."

"No, we can't." Pandora chipped in. "We need to do this, one way or the other."

Cane hesitated, before nodding. Tors could see the fear on his face, the nerves. "Alright, we'll do it."

Kivina was definitely out cold; Cane's punch to the arm proved that much. After ordering the unusually-silent Emola to stand as a look-out, he grabbed the tweezers, asking Tors to pull her hair out of the way. Tors obliged, and finally got a proper look at the device; like a silver egg. The tweezers, magnetised, gripped onto the device and held it tight. Cane grunted as he tried to pull the device out, but there was no moving it. "Damn..."

"Pandora," Tors had an idea, "Can you weave your hair into there and get an idea of what we're looking at?"

Pandora seemed to consider it, before agreeing. Placing her head next to Kivina's, she let her hair flow free into Kivina's ear. She squirmed for a while, evidently feeling around inside, before her hair retracted and she could get up. "That's lodged in there well; there's some sort of connector leading from the egg into the eardrum, probably continuing through the ear's structure and latching onto the cochlear nerve; if we can remove the egg portion, it stands to reason that it should cut off the connection to Xaos."

Cane nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He gestured to Tors. "Hold the tweezers, and pull when I say."

Tors did so, and pulled slightly on them; they didn't budge, being attached to the immovable device.

"Pandora," Cane turned to her now, "When I say, use your hair to inch veins and arteries shut; if I can do this quickly, she should be fine." Pandora nodded and sat next to Kivina again.

They all started breathing deep as Cane placed the scalpel on the back of her ear and made the first incision. A trickle of dark blood immediately appeared, oozing out of the cut. He forced the scalpel down further, and Pandora began to plug the leaking veins. Cane moved the ear, and asked Tors to hold onto it with his spare hand. Tors did so; it felt cold and clammy. He could see down the ear canal now, thanks to the extra hole Cane had opened.

Cane moved in further, cutting at the cartilage around the ear canal, giving him more space around the sides of the device. "If I can get in far enough to cut the connector, that'd be great, but I don't see that being easy."

"You can do it, buddy." Tors said, smiling a fake smile; he had no idea how this was going to play out.

Cane nodded in appreciation at Tors, before having a look inside Kivina's ear again. "Tors, give it a tug."

Tors did so, pulling until his muscles strained, and he felt something give way. "It feels looser now."

"Guys." Emola called. "Xaosians coming."

Tors looked at the mess that was on the floor. "Shit!" Heart pounding, he looked at the others; Kivina's prone body, Pandora, with her hair wrapped into Kivina, and Cane, hands covered in blood. "Alright...Cane, hands in pockets. Pandora, lie on top of Kivina: pretend to be asleep. Emola, move away from the door and grab a blanket, chuck it over Pandora, then sit with me. You too Cane, come on."

They sat around together in their small hut, heads down. "So," Tors glanced at the door; they had to make it seem natural. "You remember Naarl?"

"Oh yeah, he was cool." Emola faked emotion there; Tors knew that he'd cared about Naarl, but it didn't seem like the place for emotions.

"Who was Naarl?" Cane asked.

"Some old guy across the street," Tors glanced at the door; Xaosian shadows could be seen moving towards them. "He taught Pandora some of the history of the planet." A Xaosian looked in, surveyed the area, and moved on, satisfied. "Keep talking keep talking. Emola check."

Emola got up quietly, and wandered over to the doorway. "Nah, they're gone. Long gone now."

Pandora threw the blanket off herself. "Finally; you have no idea how weird that was."

Cane rubbed his hands on Kivina's clothes. "Let's finish this crap."

Tors went over, holding the ear, which was colder than before. Cane went in, chipping the device with his scalpel as he did so. "Pull more." Cane grunted to Tors.

Tors obliged, grimacing as he pulled as hard as he could.

"I can see the connector you said about," Cane nodded to Pandora, "Should be a simple cut..."

Tors watched him use the scalpel like a saw until, eventually, the device came loose and Tors Jolted backwards as it came out. He let Cane and Pandora do the closing of the wounds; he wasn't needed, and he had no clue what to do. Instead, he looked at this egg-shaped device and watched sparks emit from the frayed end where the connector was. To him, as he turned it over in his hands, it felt light and in a sealed unit; obviously mass produced.

"Do you think all of the Xaosians have this in their ear?" Tors asked Emola, who had moved away from the doorway.

Emola nodded. "Most of them, anyway. I doubt all of soldiers do; I know one of them patrolling here doesn't."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he doesn't wear his helmet and his hair's all clipped back, so you'd be able to see. You can usually see them, I find." Emola seemed too knowledgeable on the subject. His mood changed as he remembered something. "In fact, I heard one of them say they've got a large of inhibitors tomorrow; do you think that's what these are?"

Tors felt a pang of dread. "Almost certainly. We need to wake Kivina up and get out of here. Sooner rather than later."

Chapter 44

Strom 6

Strom's eyes snapped open.

A liquid drained out of cylinder he was in, and he breathed in deep a few times, as if he'd been drowning; maybe he had. He raised his hands and stared at them, flexing his fingers and staring at both the palms and backs of his hands. Touching his face, he found it to be solid, but smoother than normally. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it in working order. He flushed when he realised that he naked, and rushed to cover up with his hand. Some strange creatures were wandering around near his tube, terrifying-looking beings; was he being experimented on?

I was dead.

He knew that he can't have been, or at least not for long, but he had seen the darkness. The dark at the end of the tunnel; no light like people say. "Walk into the light", they say, but there was no light. He adjusted his hand so only one was covering himself and felt around where he was hurt before passing out. There was no pain now, although he had expected it; he remembered the crash, the calls of Ilisa, the begging. Olaf's death.

I should be dead.

He felt unusual in his own body, almost as if it wasn't his own; he knew that was ridiculous. It was his body, he could tell. Same skin tone, same hands, same hair. His face was smoother, but he assumed that that was an affect of whatever liquid he had been preserved in. When he moved, it felt strange, his muscles tensing and stiff as if he had never used them. He felt his heartbeat, finding it somewhat accelerated.

The hell is going on here?

He opened his mouth and tried to call to the beings in the room, but only a faint gargle came out; probably for the best, he had no idea what he'd say to them. Evidently, one of them had noticed the gargle, and turned towards him. Its single eye narrowed in what Strom assumed was suspicion, before it turned towards something outside Strom's field of vision. He tried to look around to see what it was, but his neck cracked and he groaned in pain; that didn't usually happen.

The tube opened with a hydraulic hiss. Strom tried to take a step out of it, but when his foot touched the ground, his leg buckled and he fell, only stopping himself by grabbing onto the sides of the tube. He dragged himself back up again, and looked at his hands; they were shaking. He noticed that his breathing was increasingly shallow, and he tried to stabilize it.

"Strom!" A familiar female voice called out as a blur came into view. Strom shook his head, aiming to clear the blur, but it just made his head hurt. Wincing, he clutched his head and moaned. The voice cried out again, sending his ears ringing.

Strom cried out. A small scream in both frustration and pain. Vision still obscured, he tried to say words and, after a few gargles, he managed to shout hoarsely, "What have you done to me?" He coughed, before noticing that his voice had changed; his accent was gone. "What are you?" He panted, lungs aching.

"Strom!" The voice pierced his ringing ears. A hand grabbed his chin and forced his head up. "Look at me."

Strom blinked a few times, his vision clearing slightly each time. "Ilisa?"

Ilisa tutted. "It's about time." She threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

Strom put his arms around her slowly, feeling awkward in his skin; maybe it was just because he'd been unconscious for a long time. "What's going on?"

"You were dead." Ilisa said bluntly. Strom opened his mouth to question, but Ilisa put a finger over it. "Don't ask questions yet. Your body was dead, but your mind was sound. So, I brought you to New Orbus for healthcare, but the Xaosians were here. They shot me down and I crashed on the surface. These beings are Orbans, Strom. They preserved themselves, and saved your life."

"How?" Strom asked. "This body, my skin, my muscles, they don't feel right. What have they done to me?"

"They won't feel right yet." Ilisa closed her eyes and exhaled. "It's not your original body."

Strom's brow furrowed. "Original body?" He looked around, taking in the bubbling tubes, and the arrays of computers. One of the Orbans looked at him, and nodded in acknowledgement. Strom waved back awkwardly, looking more like his arm had a seizure than any fluid movement. "Am I a clone?"

Ilisa nodded, then spoke slowly and carefully. "Your body is, yes, but your mind is exactly the same. It's how the Orbans survived all this time; clones, while keeping the mind preserved in a computer server."

"So I'm not...I'm not me?" Strom asked, before stopping and staring at his hands again.

"You are." Ilisa nodded. "On the inside, you are exactly the same. On the outside, it's like your body has been refreshed; you look exactly the same. You'll get used to it." She went to touch his face.

"Get away from me." Strom's voice took on an authority she hadn't heard before.

"But Strom-"

"Get away!" Strom closed his eyes as she roared, before hearing a loud bang followed by equipment clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Ilisa slumped on the other side of the room. He looked around; no-one was near either of them. "Ilisa!" He ran over to her, cradling her head. Her eyes were open, so she was still conscious. "What happened?"

Ilisa got up, and pushed him away. "I...I think you did it." She seemed confused. "Sa'tui, I need to talk to you." She called to one of the Orbans, who beckoned her over. Strom tried to follow her, but she put a hand on his chest. "Stay here. Put your clothes on." She pointed at a pile next to the tube he was in. He nodded, and Ilisa walked quickly over to the Orban Sa'tui.

His clothes felt strange against his new skin, and he imagined that was how a newborn felt when they first had to wear clothes. The rough fabric rubbed against his skin, feeling like tiny scratches up his legs; his skin felt overly sensitive. When he had finished, he watched Ilisa and Sa'tui talking. Ilisa seemed to be quite lively in her discussion, but the Orban seemed indifferent to her gestures.

Strom thought about what she'd said. "She thinks I did it...." He muttered, thinking about how. "I didn't move..." He remembered what he'd learnt about the Orbans when he was at school. His Raiser had told him that they had a special power, but never further elaborated. What if that power passed on in the cloning process? He looked at a small tube on the floor, and concentrated entirely on it. In his mind, he pictured it moving along the cold floor. When he looked at it again, he held his hand so it was facing it, and willed it to move. His eyes widen with amazement as it rolled along the floor, before standing on its edge. He chuckled; he could control things with his mind. Then he realised what he had done to Ilisa.

She was walking over now. "Strom, I –"

"I know Ilisa." He walked over, and gathered her up in his arms. "And I am so sorry; I never meant to –"

"I know." Ilisa said, kissing his cheek. "You'll – no, we'll, get used to it. Together."

Strom nodded. "Yeah." He pointed at the tube. "I moved that a minute ago."

Ilisa smiled. "Not quite as big as me. Here." She stood in front of him, arms spread wide. "You need to get used to it, control it. Lift me with your mind."

Strom took a deep breath, and focuses, before his concentration broke. "No, Ilisa. I can't."

"Yes." Ilisa nodded. "You can do it."

Strom shook his head. "It's not a case of whether I can do it or not. It's a case of I don't want to. I hurt you before, I could have injured or killed you."

Ilisa walked up to him, and punched him in the arm. He looked at his arm, and then at her hand. "The hell was that for?"

"Now we're even." Ilisa went back to her position. "Now lift me."

Strom smiled; she was cute when she was trying to be angry. "Alright then. I'll try."

He extended a hand, and imagined that he was holding her at her waist. He then raised his hand, imagining he was lifting her her up. Concentrating on that image, he saw past it, into reality, and saw that he was indeed lifting her with his mind through his outstretched hand. She looked down at the floor and laughed, and he did too. The sensation as the power bridged the gap between mind, hand, and Ilisa was a tingling feeling, which he found he rather enjoyed.

"I'm gonna try and set you down now, 'kay?" Strom called to her.

"Alright."

Ilisa was carefully lowered, before Strom accidentally dropped her the rest of the way. She fell, limp, but able to land on her hands and feet. He ran over to her. "Ilisa! You alright?"

She stood up, and brushed herself down, laughing. "You need to practise putting people down." She chuckled still, throwing her arms around him again. "That was amazing!"

"It felt it to me too." Strom noticed how unusually cuddly Ilisa was being today.

"You did well Strom." A voice echoed in his head. Strom turned around to see Sa'tui and another Orban. "For a human."

"It's amazing." Strom nodded. "Thank you."

"It was an accident that you ended up with these powers." Sa'tui continued. "But we will help train you to use them."

Strom bowed his head. "Thank you."

Sa'tui copied the bow. "Now, lift her again, and put her down. Carefully this time."

Strom smiled as Ilisa took up her position again; they will learn together.

Chapter 45

Cinradahs 4

Cinradahs's shoulder was tender, and still hurt when touched, but the doctor had done a great job otherwise, especially in the time-frame he was given. When he put his shirt back on, he could still see a red mark and dent where it used to be, but at least the bullet had been dug out now. He leaned on Saiun as they hobbled towards Keinam's ship.

"You up for this now?" Saiun whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, I'm good." Cinradahs muttered, annoyed at himself for having to rely on Saiun; they'd been through enough.

"No you're not." Saiun touched his shoulder, making Cinradahs wince, proving his point.

"No, you're right." He batted Saiun's hand off his shoulder. "But I'm OK for the journey."

Keinam was walking over to Cinradahs, probably to stop him being in too much discomfort. "Are you ready now?"

Cinradahs nodded. "I think so. The troops are boarding the flagship, and the smaller ships are being loaded right now. We'll be ready in about half an hour, I'm certain."

Keinam nodded. "Good. The Adjeti will wait for you before we head off. Why are you loading the ships onto bigger ships? Waste of time."

"They're not fit for interplanetary travel," Cinradahs answered, "the engines are too large."

"The ones we developed before we were almost destroyed were more advanced than that, then." Keinam pointed at his own ship. "Did you humans not develop at all since then?"

"We had no need," Saiun turned on the defensive, "we were busy replacing the technology that we relied on you for."

"Blame the Pyrkagia, not us." Keinam hissed.

"Oh, I do." Saiun nodded. "I was just making a point."

Keinam nodded. "Fair. I await your word to go." He turned, and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Saiun whispered "He's kinda intense, isn't he?"

"Can you blame him?"

"Course not. Maybe he shouldn't be such a dick to us though; we're helping them too."

"I think they'd be fine on there own," Cinradahs pointed at the ships, "they beat off the Xaosian army in minutes; we're simply tagging along."

"Let's hope they don't turn on us then."

Cinradahs nodded. "I doubt it'll happen."

"I hope not."

A dishevelled-looking woman run up to Cinradahs and stood haughtily before him. It took him a moment before he realised that it was Yuki, Raanian president. "I demand you take me with you."

Cinradahs felt his chest tense and an anger rose inside him. Brushing Saiun off, he walked slowly to Yuki, standing up straight as he did so. She backed away slightly, before remembering to stand her ground. "You do not demand from me." Cinradahs hissed, pointing a finger at her, almost touching. "I owe you nothing. Nothing! I saved you, I saved all you stuck-up diplomats while you did nothing! You've done nothing to help your world. In fact, what you did do could've hurt it more than it already is; count yourself lucky Xaos was going to use the Earth-Scorcher anyway, or you would be held accountable too." He moved away from her. "You do not demand. From me. This is to keep you safe, and out of my way."

Cinradahs walked past the shocked Yuki, and he imagined that Saiun made an apologetic face at her, like he always did when Cinradahs got annoyed.

"Was that really necessary?" Cinradahs detected anger in Saiun's whisper.

"Probably not." Cinradahs reflected. "But she's an irritating bitch, and she deserved every word of it."

Saiun considered this for a moment. "You could probably have phrased it better."

"Probably."

*

The ships were loaded onto the flagship, and there were just a few troops still sauntering around; new recruits, trying to find where exactly they were meant to be.

"Get a move on!" Cinradahs entered the hangar bay, dressed in his black commander's armour, carrying his helmet with his uninjured arm. Saiun had already put his grey helmet on, but its visor was up, as he didn't really need it down in a non-combat scenario; the visor displayed holograms showing the user's vitals and ammunition count. "We haven't got all day."

"Well, we might do." Saiun remarked. "Only real reports are from Xaos, and I imagine he's not all that reliable."

"So, far everything he said has been true." Cinradahs realised. "Aside from perhaps the Irinian allies; they never showed up."

"Maybe they misled him."

"Hopefully." Cinradahs nodded. "Especially with the Narcsia victims there."

They gathered up the rookies and got them on board at last. Cinradahs and Saiun took the long walk through the military flagship, past the small hangar bays, past the armouries, path the engine room, the medical bays, the troop quarters, and the exterior weapon stations, until they finally reached the bridge. Cinradahs sat down in the commander's seat, where he could watch over the navigators and various techies below. Saiun stood next to him, as if he was a bodyguard. "Are we ready for departure?"

"Yes commander, just waiting for the Adjeti's confirmation." A pretty blond girl spoke up, catching the attention of some of the young men in the room.

Cinradahs opened a com channel. "Keinam, you ready to go?"

Keinam quickly replied. "Of course."

"Alright, let's go." Cinradahs cut the connection, and turned to Saiun. "That guy is starting to piss me off."

The hangar doors opened, and the ship began to move out. The engines roared, and Cinradahs imagined the red flare they made as the ship began speed up, until it left the bay completely and careened upwards through the sky.

"Enabling L-Drive now, Commander." Tarib, the blond girl, informed them as they reached the optimum point away from New Orbus.

Cinradahs waved her along, letting her know that he approved of the action. "I hate being in charge of this." He muttered to Saiun. "Not meant to be actually in war, I'm sure."

"No-one is."

*

Even from space, Cinradahs could see some of the damage to Raan's oil sea. Flames raged across the coast bordering the Sea of Oil, and the sea itself seemed orange-tinted; perhaps that was on fire too. Smoke made dark clouds over the once-bustling landscape, and he couldn't see any life beyond them. "Take us down to Tapal; there should be somewhere we can set down."

As they descended, Cinradahs made his way over to the viewing screens and looked at the devastation outside. Smoke was rising from everywhere, pillars of it where constructed in the sky. Some buildings stood proud and tall, but Cinradahs had no idea how; the fallen around them were naught but bricks and mortar now. Some where leaning on other, similar to how Cinradahs was leaning on Saiun earlier. He shuddered to think how many corpses were buried in the rubble, or cremated in the smoke plumes.

The flagship set down in one of the fields on the outskirts of Tapal, Cinradahs took the long walk out of the flagship once more, Saiun behind him. As he walked past the soldiers' quarters, he signalled to two soldiers to accompany him.

"What're your names?" Cinradahs asked.

"Maron." The older one had a somewhat hoarse voice.

"I'm Rals." The younger one seemed nervous.

"Good to know." Cinradahs left the ship, and hoped to see light, but there was none. A sepia landscape greeted him; even the sky seemed to be a shade of brown. He turned to Saiun. "Any idea where the Adjeti ships are?"

Saiun pointed to the sky. "Looks like Keinam's got a load of them scouting the place from the air, but I don't see his ship up there."

Cinradahs spoke into his com. "Keinam, where are you?"

"Not far from you, I saw your hulking beast of a ship land; I wanted to wait before speaking to the Raanians, my presence could have freaked them out." Keinam replied bluntly, before cutting communication.

"He's got a point." Saiun said, noticing how annoyed Cinradahs seemed.

After much debating with himself, Cinradahs reluctantly agreed. "Doesn't have to keep insulting our tech though."

"He's a soldier from a long-thought dead race that has better and sleeker ships than ours despite a couple of centuries of no technological development." Maron pointed out. "He's not gonna be impressed by them."

Rals nodded in agreement. "It's not as if he doesn't have beef with humans."

Cinradahs sighed; they were both right. Of course the Adjeti would hate humans; Ardican, the final operator of the World-Burner, had been a human. "Yeah, fair enough. You're right."

Keinam's larger Wing-Ship descended gracefully, landing next to the relatively colossal Empire flagship. As he left the ship, Cinradahs noticed how quickly Keinam moved, almost superhumanly fast. "My scouts found a group of humans not far east of here." He proclaimed. "They seem to be the only human life around."

Cinradahs noted his use of words. "Human life? Is there any Corlen life detected then?"

"Possibly." Keinam nodded. "But it is hard to tell; they're not alive in the same way we are. We are alive thanks to a complex system of organs. They are alive simply because they somehow gained sentience. They cannot be killed, only destroyed, and that's a bitch to do. So we destroyed a load of them, then drove them down into the core of this world." Keinam looked into Cinradahs's eyes. "It was the only way to stop them taking the Empire for their own."

Cinradahs looked into Keinam's eyes, and saw a lifetime of pain stare back at him. Those eyes had seen so much death and destruction, betrayal and war. But they were hardened now, and portrayed no emotion other than anger. Anger more poignant than any he had ever seen. Anger at the humans, at the Pyrkagia, at the Corlens.

In that moment, Cinradahs finally understood Keinam's bitterness and hatred for everything that wasn't Adjeti or Orban. They formed the Empire, they gave it their secrets, their technology. They saved the Empire from the Corlens, and they couldn't even defeat them. Cinradahs shuddered to think how many Adjeti that war had cost.

Keinam gave him a strange look, half-annoyed, half-curious. Cinradahs looked away immediately, turning to Maron, Rals and Saiun. "Let's go find these survivors."

Chapter 46

Foton 6

The journey back to Prauw gave Foton time to think. He had no idea what Tujin Diank had done to warrant the assassination, but he was almost certain that wasn't the purpose of the mission. The silver cube worried him, and the crackling between it and Tujin's implanted augmentation was all the more unsettling.

"Can I get you anything, Mr Fown?"

He turned towards the strange falsetto to see a Trasman flight attendant; he'd forgotten the pleasures of first-class commercial flights. For some reason, he was upgraded on the way back to Prauw. Foton assumed it was something to do with Blind Assassin; evidently, he pleased with Foton's handiwork.

Foton smiled a smile as fake as the flight attendant's. "No thank you."

The smile faltered for a moment, before he moved on to his next customer. Foton frowned, and then remembered one of the luxuries of first-class flights; the television. He turned his one on, throwing a cheap pair of headphones over his ears. Switching through the channels, he found the Irinian news channel.

What he saw shocked him to his core.

With arms crossed over ribs and stomach and a vacant expression on his face, Tujin Diank stood on a podium with a dozen microphones and a crowd of paparazzi surrounding him. He's dead. Foton knew something was up with this scene. He was covering his wound, which he imagined was also hidden by a change of clothes.

"People of Irin," Tujin's voice was more of a croak than it was when Foton encountered him, "in case you have the rumours, this world is firmly allied with the Xaosian cause." His face twitched, and his augmentation sparked. Foton touched the screen, making it zoom in on the augmentation, but he could see nothing broken. "It is regrettable that Lady Arias could not tell you personally, but she has other business to attend to." Foton shook his head; he should have known that Arias was involved, what with her refusal to stand against them. "As you may know, the evacuees from Narcsia are held in camps outside the capital, and will be drafted into the Xaosian army. If they will not join willingly, they will," Tujin seemed to struggle with the next few words, "simply stay imprisoned. Or conditioned. And the same is for all of you." He pointed at the camera, and the journalists shrieked, and panicked, cameras falling down. Before the screen blacked out, he saw Tujin draw a gun from his coat pocket, and Foton saw the wound through his shirt.

He should be dead.

Maybe he was.

Foton thought about the vacant expression, the monotone, the strained voice; almost as it was a different person with the same wound. Foton shook his head; the Xaosians were behind this, by the gist of what Tujin said but, as far as he knew, they had no way to reanimate the dead, nor heal a dying man that quickly. He knew it was something to do with that blasted box, but what was the plan?

Foton asked the flight attendant for a paper and pen, and he faux-jauntily obliged. "Here you go sir."

"Thanks."

Foton got to work, writing the words "Assassins", "Tujin" and "Xaosians" on the paper. Between "Assassins" and "Tujin", he scrawled the word "murder", and between "Xaosians" and "Tujin", he wrote "Irin". Down at the bottom of the paper, he wrote "cube". An arrow from "Xaosians" to "cube", then one from "cube" to "Assassins", and from "Assassins" to "Tujin", before finishing with an arrow between "Tujin" and "Irin".

The Xaosians used the Assassins.

While that had seemed pretty obvious, Foton was still sure he was missing something; surely the Assassins would have known about the cube. While they had a policy of not asking questions, Foton was certain that the Blind Assassin hadn't been in the dark this whole time.

What the hell have I done?

While it seemed that Arias was on Xaos's side all along, Foton couldn't help thinking that he turned Irin against the Empire. But why only target one man? Yes, he must have had a press conference scheduled, but why not someone of more authority? He scrunched up his paper, and pocketed it, making sure none of the other passengers saw what he'd drawn.

Prauw was close now, he knew, and he was determined to get answers.

*

They were waiting for him when arrived.

B'yon sat on wooden box or palette of some sort, and the Blind Assassin stood next to him. The very sight of them irritated him; they had been waiting for him, meaning that they must have seen the Irinian news for them to know he was done. Which would have meant that they knew what the cube was for...

"Foton." The Blind Assassin moved towards him. "You're back already."

"Tujin Diank is not dead." Foton threw the laminated card he was given on the floor. "I killed him, I stabbed him in the heart, but he still lives."

Blind Assassin looked at B'yon and nodded. "Yes, he does." The old man's voice had never sounded frail, but it was now that Foton noticed that it was more than youthful strength; it was close to a monotone.

"How?" Foton watched B'yon walk over to the doors and stand in front of them like a guardian.

"The cube." The Blind Assassin looked towards Foton. "It took over his augmentation, and from there, his body, by reactivating the mind. He is dead. Not alive." He smiled. "You have succeeded in your mission."

"Now will you help me with the Xaosians?" Foton knew the answer, but he was curious to see if they would lie to him.

B'yon chuckled. "Do you not see it yet?"

"So you do work for them?" Foton asked, priming his hidden blades.

Blind Assassin shook his head. "No. You think we do. I saw your drawing. Crude, but it got the point across. Almost."

"How did you see that?" Foton asked. "And how was I close?"

"Foton, I have a billion eyes. There is not much the AI cannot hack into." Foton was confused, before remembering the AI which helped the Blind Assassin to see through nearby cameras; it had certainly evolved. "In fact, it can now hack the entire Irinian network, thanks to you."

Foton's jaw dropped for a moment. "That was your cube? You took over Tujin's body."

Blind Assassin shook his head. "No. The AI did. Both Xaos and I serve it now; it is superior."

"Superior." B'yon echoed.

Foton's head automatically turned to look at B'yon, before it snapped back to see the Blind Assassin.

"In fact," His voice changed, and his movements became more fluid. As they did so, skin stretched and tore, but there was no blood weeping from them, "this body isn't even alive anymore. Hasn't been for months."

"What the fuck is going on?" Foton yelled.

"The Assassin's AI was trained to look out for threats." The AI commanded Blind Assassin's animated corpse to say. "I found the greatest threat of all; overpopulation. When the Assassin died, I took over, learning the human body. Soon after, the inducers went into production, allowing me to control whoever had one. Most of the Assassins and, soon after, about half of the Xaosian army. The cube you delivered allows me to hack the Irinian network, and control them through their augmentations. This Empire needs to expand, and the only way to do this is with an aggressive hive-mind. I will control the Empire's main functions and lead it into a glorious new age."

Foton tried to say something, but he faltered; expansion was, in truth, necessary. But not this way. He shook his head. "Aggressive hive-mind? No. Expansion would be a plus, but with no free will? What would be the point?"

"I think only of the Empire's survival." The AI responded through Blind Assassin.

"And only survival." It spoke through B'yon now. Foton's breathing grew deeper; the AI had him surrounded. "It does not-"

"-need to be comfortable." Blind Assassin's body finished it.

Foton looked back and forth at the two. B'yon, Assassin, B'yon, Assassin again. He looked at B'yon again, noticing with certainty that he was still alive; if he could get whatever the inducer was off of him, he could be saved.

Rushed footsteps.

Vision went dark as the Blind Assassin hit him in the side of his head. Foton lashed out, but stopped as he felt something slither through his ear. His head felt like it was going to burst, his eyes felt as if they were being pushed forward by a slithering, pulsing serpent inside his head. Pain. Blurred vision, blocked hearing.

A whisper in his ear told him to turn around.

"Bow."

Foton bent the knee to the Blind Assassin, unable to think his own thoughts.

Chapter 47

Trexor 7

Trexor saw the ships land in the fields near the survivors' camps. He recognised the larger one as an Empire flagship, but the smaller one, as well as the much smaller ships flitting about in the sky, he didn't recognise. Usually, this would have filled him with worry, but he knew that, if they were landing with friendly ships, they too were more than likely friendly.

"Come on Trem." Trexor called to the assassin as they walked back to the camp. "Not much further now."

"Yeah, I'm good." Trem panted; today seemed to have taken its toll on him. Trexor was certain that the Quaren serum Trem had drank wasn't actually a miracle cure.

"Sure?"

Trem chuckled. "What are you doing, checking up on me? I thought you hated me."

Trexor thought about it. "I did. But I think we could be friends when this is done. Or at least allies."

Trem cocked his head in mock thought. "Yeah, I guess."

The camp wasn't far at all, and they covered ground quickly. Trexor began to look around the makeshift shelters; they had been built up with rubble from the quake. So many injured, so many grieving. Many more would die, they all knew it. There just wasn't enough doctors to go round.

"Hey, look!" Trem pointed towards a shelter.

Trexor looked over to see a woman waving; Disa and Cane. He strode over to them. "Hey, how are you two faring?"

"We're fine thanks to you two." She looked at them both with obvious gratitude. "Thank you Trem, for the medicine thing. Kept me going until I got here."

Trem smiled and nodded. "It's fine."

Trexor looked at Trem, worried. "Kept her going? It's not permanent, is it Trem?"

"Not at all." Trem said through gritted teeth.

Trexor led Trem away from Disa, who looked worried now. "You said it healed you."

Trem smirked. "It does; a temporary fix. The pain's definitely back though."

"Why not take some more?" Trexor looked at Trem's belt.

"It's gone." Trem patted his belt to show Trexor. "The Corlen accidentally smashed it."

"Well, lay here with Disa. The doctor can get to you soon. I'll get you when I go out again."

Trem looked like he was going to argue, but he seemed to change his mind, and sat near Disa. Cane watched everything with a look of amazement, especially when his gaze fixed on the groaning Trem. "Thanks guys." Trem muttered.

Trexor walked away from them, looking through the camp, until he found just who he was looking for. "Admiral Fairns!" He called to his superior.

Admiral Fairns looked worse for wear. A fresh red cut split his cheek in two and a thin layer of soot covered his face. His eyes looked tired and haunted, and his hair was a mess, some singed black near the top. His armour was scratched and darkened, just like Trexor's. He shook his head. "No Admiral here, Trexor. Ranks don't matter here; only survival. We're all equals now, just scavenging to stay alive."

"Empire ships have landed near here." Trexor sounded urgent. "And-"

"Yes, they have, haven't they. Come with me; we shall meet our guests." Fairns began to walk, and Trexor noticed his slight limp.

"Sir, I've really got something to tell you." Trexor started as they left the camp.

"If it's stories of the dead, I don't want to hear them." Fairns sounded as if he'd seen enough and was ready to give up.

"No, there are things-"

"Minister Cinradahs!" Fairns called to the approaching party. Trexor noticed the minister, in full black armour, with what seemed to an assistant and two soldiers. With them was two humanoids in a yellow/white armour, but Trexor could not tell what species they were.

Cinradahs took his helmet off, raised an arm, and the others stopped. "Admiral."

Fairns and Trexor rushed over to them, and Fairns shook Cinradahs's hand. Trexor kept an eye on the two unknowns.

"First of all, I would like to extend whatever apology I can offer you; we would have came sooner if we could have." Cinradahs seemed genuine. "We found out in the middle of a war-zone, and we were only told of a quake not..." he gestured around, "not this. We will send whatever resources we can spare."

"And what resources can you spare?" Fairns asked.

Cinradahs's assistant seemed to shuffle uncomfortably before Cinradahs answered. "Not much, I'm afraid; we are in open war with Xaos. Both Raan and New Orbus need help, and the citizens of Narcsia need new homes; we will concentrate on Raan, but we do have a war to fight."

"New Orbus was attacked?" Trexor asked.

Cinradahs nodded. "The full Xaosian and Pyrkagia fleet. We held them off, but I doubt we would have survived without the help of Keinam here." He pointed towards the taller of the unknowns.

"What are they?" Trexor pointed to Keinam and the other one.

"We are Adjeti," Keinam answered, "and we have returned to exact vengeance upon those who wronged us. We are Warchiefs Keinam and Otor, leaders of our people. Now," he turned to Fairns, "where are the Corlens?"

Fairns was confused. "The hell are Corlens?"

"Sir, I tried to tell you on the way here." Everyone looked at Trexor. "When Trem and I were exploring, we stumbled across a number of silver, molten creatures. They seemed docile at first, but one of them attacked us earlier." He looked at Keinam. "Were they Corlens?"

Keinam looked at Otor, who nodded. "Yes, they were; we both agree that your description must match that of a Corlen."

"Where'd they come from?" Fairns demanded.

Otor answered this time, in a somewhat strained voice. "The very centre of your planet; they were meant to stay there, but obviously the Xaosians disturbed them."

Fairns shook his head. "Fuckin' hell, just what we needed."

"Why do you think we brought an army with us?" Keinam gestured at the circling ships.

Trexor nodded. "Makes sense."

"Now, you've seen them." Keinam said. "Any area where there was a large group of them?"

"Yeah," Trexor answered, remembering the chasm and the sheer amount of silver dots there, "I'll take you there."

"Yes. You will." Keinam turned to Cinradahs. "You sort out what you need to with the admiral. Maron, Rals, Otor. With me."

Trexor led Keinam through the devastated city. While Rals, Maron and, less so, Otor made observations about the ruins, Trexor noticed that Keinam made none; he just stayed focused and silent. Things moved all around them, keeping Trexor on edge the entire time, but they eventually reached their destination; a giant hole in the ground which reached down into darkness, or the core of Raan as Keinam said. Inside the chasm, hundreds, maybe thousands of Corlens were climbing down.

"Why are they climbing down?" Trexor muttered.

"Perhaps they want to get back home." Otor suggested.

Maron and Rals made a noise of amazement as they saw, before Rals clipped his gun to his armour and looked through the sights. Keinam slapped the gun down. "Don't even think about it." He growled.

"There's more than I thought." Keinam turned to Trexor. "Although I echo your question; why are they going down?"

Keinam went over to the edge of the chasm and knelt down. Trexor did the same, and looked down into the pit of darkness. "You trying to see what's down there?" Trexor strained his eyes, doing the same.

"Yeah," Keinam responded, "don't see much though."

A wave of heat came from the hole, blasting them backwards. They coughed, and got to their feet. Otor's arm twisted into a barrel shape, perplexing Trexor; do they possess natural weapons? Trexor equipped his pistol and Maron and Rals clipped their guns into their armour, ready for anything.

Almost.

Keinam looked down the chasm as Trexor moved back, keeping an eye on Keinam. Keinam turned and roared, "Get down!", tackling Trexor and Maron to the ground.

Steam erupted from the hole just before a perfect sphere emerged from the depths of Raan. Perfect in proportions, it still shifted in the same way as the Corlens. It was much larger than the Corlens, almost as if it was a transport.

"What is that thing?" Trexor asked.

"Corlen Warsphere." Keinam answered. "Their warships, if you will."

"Damn." Otor muttered.

Rals and Maron stayed quiet, aiming at the ship tentatively. "Don't!" Keinam yelled at them, gesturing wildly at them. They lowered their weapons instantly.

The Warsphere hovered for a moment, before spiralling off into the sky. As Trexor watched, another came out. And another. And another, until there was an armada of them waiting in the sky.

Keinam moved away from the chasm, watching the Warspheres hovering in the sky. "Get back to Cinradahs." He paused. "All of you, get back."

"Why?" Trexor asked. "And leave you here?"

"Now!" Keinam roared, before placing a hand to his forehead and muttering something.

"What are you doing?" Trexor asked as the others led a path back the way they came.

"Telepathic link to my ship; it'll be here in a moment. I'm going after them." Keinam looked to the sky.

"After them?"

Keinam pointed. "They're heading upwards. Leaving Raan. I have to stop them."

Trexor nodded. "I'll come with you."

Keinam strode towards him. "No. You get back to Cinradahs and the Admiral, and you tell them everything. I'll handle this."

Trexor backed away, and looked uncertain.

"I know you want to help me, but what can you do in space?" Keinam looked up as his ship appeared in the sky. "Your place is here. Now step back."

The ship landed, looking very much like a boomerang. It seemed both old and new at the same time, but with a certain sleekness to it that could only have been shined by hand; it was obvious Keinam cared for his ship.

"Now get out of here!" He ordered, running up the ramp into his ship. Trexor watched him stand in what he assumed was the cockpit, and tell the ship to fly.

Trexor ran to catch up with the others, watching Keinam's ship take off with only one thought:

What have we uncovered?

Chapter 48

Keinam 2

Warspheres.

While the ships had seemed slow back on Raan, they were giving Keinam's a challenge to keep up with them now. It was evident that they were heading for a specific point, rather than a random invasion of a random planet; this was a deliberate mission. He followed them closely, or as close as he could get, so he couldn't engage his L-Drive; he had no idea where they were headed.

Fucking Warspheres.

He hated them. They were just as bad as the Corlens at being indestructible; they were a bitch to take out. He remembered the Adjeti/Corlen war. It was a bloodbath on the Adjeti's side. The Corlens barely lost a soul until the World-Burner scorched hundreds of their Warspheres, driving them underground. Literally.

Keinam had thought that was the end of it.

Evidently not.

He sighed; since coming back to the Empire, he'd been faced with more challenges than he'd expected. Haven't even made a proper move on the insect bastards yet. Usually, by now, he would have fired on the Warspheres, but he hadn't flown this ship properly in decades, and didn't plan engaging about fifty of them in open battle; the Xaosian fleet was one thing, but this was out of his depth.

It seemed to take an age to follow them, and he wondered where they could be going. Ideally, they would know that it was Xaos that disturbed them, and actually head to the planet and wipe out there army. OR, for some random reason, to Buun and kill all the Pyrkagia. He grinned at the unlikely prospect, but he knew it wouldn't happen. They were probably off to Orbus or some shit like that.

Or Oblivion.

Revenge would be perfect for the Corlens now they could escape from their prison, but Keinam doubted that; from his experiences, the Corlens didn't think like that, they just wanted new homes at the expense of everyone on the planets they chose. They weren't a fan of organic life.

Keinam looked at the nav-screen, and calculated their current course to try and determine the planet they were headed to: Narcsia. He racked his brain; he'd heard something about Narcsia recently.

"The Narcsia survivors..."

" citizens of Narcsia need new homes"

Where the Corlens already there? Cinradahs said nothing about them, so he assumed not. Unless he didn't know the full story. But, if the planet had been evacuated, then it was just the right time for Corlens to move in. Keinam couldn't help admire them there; they at least picked a good time. If he could just persuade them to stay there, everything should be fine.

It took a few minutes before his calculations were proved correct.

Narcsia, the green planet, home of the Scalimen. He liked Scalimen; one of his best friends was one. He grew old with Keinam, but unlike Keinam, he died. Keinam sat beside him as he died of old age; that was the curse of the Adjeti's longevity. You have to watch any inter-species friends grow old, whither and die. Even the thought of Osala brought a tear to his eye, but he could just about move on now.

There was something different about Narcsia.

Instead of recognisable continents like last time he was here, the planet seemed to be a swirl of green; maybe it was terrible storms that drove the Scalimen away.

He followed the Corlens down to the planets, and he could tell from their slower speed that they were apprehensive; evidently they were expecting the planet to look similar to what Keinam expected. They descended into the atmosphere, and Keinam couldn't help but notice the colour of the clouds; a dark green. Unusual for clouds, especially for Narcsia; if he expected dodgy clouds anywhere, it'd be Prauw just because of the crap the industrial district must pump out.

Keinam got the ship to run an analysis on the clouds, and it the result came back almost straight away. Keinam looked at it, confused.

The clouds were alive.

Something hit his ship.

"What the hell?" He yelled, knowing that he'd get no answer. Activating the ship's exterior cameras, he saw the clouds moving. And not with the wind. Another cloud smashed into his ship, flipping it around. He tried to gain control, but the clouds kept pummelling him. Then, they began to unravel.

Green, twisting serpentine creatures. Thin bodies, bulbous head. It's head split open, revealing a glowing red orb inside. Keinam breathed deep; the fucking things are made of gas! How am I supposed to fight gas? The thing shrieked, and lunged at his ship. Keinam, prepared, lurched out of its way. It narrowly missed, but now other joined it, unravelling into similar forms. Keinam shook his head in disbelief.

And activated the guns.

Unlike the messy projectiles of the Empire craft, and the bludgeoning of smaller Adjeti craft, Keinam's ship was equipped with lasers; pure concentrated light. Might just ignite the gas, or at least frighten them away.

He opened fire.

The lasers fired straight at the things; Keinam was famous for his marksmanship. But they passed straight through their incorporeal bodies. He wasn't surprised; it went worse than he hoped, but about the same as he'd expected. Even so, he couldn't think much aside from expletives.

And Run!

His fight or flight reactions had already exhausted the fighting part, and now it was time for flight; he was certain that gas couldn't follow him into space. He turned the ship around. The things followed. Close behind. Keinam looked at the rear cam-screen. Damn it! He tried to call backup, just in case he didn't make it out alive, but the clouds messed with his communications.

"Fuck it all!" He steered the ship as he yelled, thanking himself for turning the voice commands off; he had no idea what the ship would've done in that case.

He escaped the atmosphere with a relieved sigh. Looking back at the planet, he saw the things retreat back into the clouds. He smiled; best possible outcome. What were those things? Allied with the Corlens, he suspected. But why would the Corlens ally themselves with something so opposite to their own existence?

At least he was safe. He relaxed, and tried to communicate with Cinradahs. No signal. Suspicious, he turned the ship around to look at Narcsia, and considered one thing he'd forgotten about.

If gas can't travel through space, how did these things get here in the first place?

It seemed that dense gas, or possibly a huge amount of it compressed together, could travel through space. Either that, or he simply didn't understand how the ships coming at him worked. Probably the latter.

The ships looked like clouds. Not the wispy ones that the being made up, but properly thick cumulonimbus clouds. They crackled with electricity and seemed to have a vortex at the centre, generating a constant tornado-like movement at the front of the ship. They didn't look all that threatening aside from the electricity it generated.

A bolt of electricity shot from it to Keinam's ship.

The ship shook, circuits sparked, and the screens went dark. Keinam looked at them, wide-eyed. Could this be my first loss in battle? Deep breath. Heart racing. Navigation systems still functional. Thank fuck for that.

He moved away from the ship, flying erratically so they might not hit him, before he realised something else.

Electricity has to travel between two points, and I'm the only other point around; they can just aim it in my general direction, and it can't miss.

He'd got far enough away from the planet to engage the L-Drive, he flicked the switch for it. It whined as it booted up, and he breathed a sigh of relief; he could get back to Raan in no time.

The L-Drive sputtered and sparked, stopping the boot-up entirely.

His face fell. "No no no no no. No!" He collapsed to the floor, ready to accept his fate. A bolt of lightning from the Cloudship came his way.

And didn't hit.

His ship didn't move, no sound and no damage. Turning the ship around, he saw what it had hit; a Corlen Warsphere. It seemed fine, just singed a little where the electricity hit it. It hovered for a moment, before swooping in to joins its allies.

They were closing in on the Cloudship, using their own lasers on it; the Adjeti based their lasers on the Warspheres' own. But these were evidently more potent; they were definitely hitting the Cloudship. Small explosions peppered it, before several of the Warspheres smashed into one another, creating a larger Warsphere. Keinam looked at it in disbelief as it surrounded the Cloudship, and closed around it, smothering it completely. The Warsphere went back to its usual shape, and the Cloudship was gone; utterly destroyed. Keinam couldn't help but be impressed.

Then he noticed the clouds on Narcsia were moving. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Lightning bolts shot from them, the combined barrage destroying the Corlen Warspheres. Blackening them until they were brittle enough to crack open. He watched, jaw dropped, as the Cloudships tore through the Corlen armada. Some Cloudships got smothered, but it seemed like for every Cloudship destroyed, 3 Warspheres were taken out. A loosing battle. More Cloudships emerged from Narcsia, firing as they came.

Keinam took the ship further away from the bolts of lightning and tried the com again. It was crackling a bit, but he could communicate. Patching in to Cinradahs's frequency, he dialled the com.

"Cinradahs." Keinam panted. "Need help."

"What?" Cinradahs's voice seemed confused. "Help, you say?"

"Not just Corlens. Narcsia under attack by gas creatures. My ship's damaged, I can't leave." Keinam cursed what he was about to do. "Please," he begged, "help me."

The com cut out as lightning hit his ship again.

Chapter 49

Ash 4

It was the day of Ash's second fight.

Like before, Carnat made sure he ate well, or at least, as well as they could on the foul cubes. As usual, Ash ate slowly, while Carnat got it over and done with. After eating, Carnat gave Ash a makeshift bow he'd made, and gave him some target practise. Ash pulled the string back, feeling his muscles tense as it reached his chin. Then he let go, watching the arrow fly through the air. It hit its target, and the target wobbled slightly.

"I did it!" Ash cheered.

Carnat gave him another arrow. "Try and hit me."

"What?" Ash was confused. "Why?"

Carnat's exoskeletal armour encased him. "Because you need to hit a moving target, and it probably won't hurt me much because of the armour."

Ash pulled the string back as Carnat ran back and forth across one side of their room. He ran a lot faster than a human, almost superhumanly fast. Ash tracked his movements with the bow, watching his movements, judging his speed. He loosened the string, relaxing the bow as Carnat taught him. Judged the speed. Followed his movements. Ash pulled the string back, and fired the arrow.

Carnat caught it just before it hit him in the chest. Smiling, he handed Ash the arrow back. "Good. Now do that in the arena, and we should be fine."

"Is there nothing else I can do?" Ash had never been confident at letting Carnat fight mostly alone.

"Nah," Carnat clapped him on the shoulder, "no offence, but you're shit with most weapons. I need to train you again, but keeping away from the creatures is your best bet for now. Just put arrows in the fucker. If that fails, run."

Ash nodded. "Alright. Just don't feel comfortable letting you fight along."

"I'm not fighting alone." Carnat gave him a knowing look. "You might do something."

Carnat shoved the bow back in the corner where the guards wouldn't be able to see it; he wasn't certain if weapons were meant to be used in their rooms rather than the training pits. Soon after, Hak'i came down, escorting them to the arena.

Ash still couldn't get over the size of the arena; rows upon rows of people, all cheering or jeering them. He felt slightly paranoid and somewhat claustrophobic in the arena, knowing that people were watching him everywhere, behind, front, left and right. In the seperate box above the spectators, he could just about make out the Hak'i Dominort and his deputies. He raised a hand and roared, through a speaker system obviously, so that all could hear. "It's Carnat and the "gladiator" again." People laughed at the mocking name they gave Ash. Carnat glanced at him, checking his temper. Ash nodded, indicating that he was fine.

They walked over to the weapon rack, and Carnat picked out a compound bow for Ash, rather than a crossbow. "You seem better with a proper bow, so this is the closest thing. It packs a punch, so you'll do more damage." Carnat reassured him.

"Are you getting a weapon this time?" Ash took the bow from him, as well as a quiver, which he hooked on his belt; it might be easier to get the arrows that way.

"Yeah." Carnat picked out a small dagger. "Just to slow it down if I need to."

When they were ready, they stepped out into the centre of the arena, and Carnat shouted up to the Dominort. "We're ready to fight, esteemed Dominort. Let the beast loose."

The door opened, and two dead Hak'i fell out. The crowd gasped, even before the monster appeared. When it appeared, Carnat backed away, shoving Ash with him.

"What is it?" Ash asked.

"You've heard me speak of Corlens." The creature was like a giant centaur, but made of shifting metal. There were no real features of note, aside from the ovoid head, which split open like a petal when it roared. "That isn't a Corlen. Occasionally, two Corlens join together, and meld both body and mind and form this thing; an Ipsacorlen. Both larger and more powerful than the standard Corlens."

"You said that Corlens were difficult to kill; what about these?" They continued backing away; the beast hadn't noticed them yet.

Carnat gave a little laugh. "No-one's ever killed one. Ever."

"Oh shit." Ash swore under his breath.

The Ipsacorlen turned to look at them. "Run!" Carnat yelled. The Ipsacorlen's arm extended, smashing a molten metal pole into the arena's wall. People seated above it screamed, and scrambled to get higher. Ash raised his. "Do not fire!" Carnat yelled, dragging Ash with him. "Only one way out of this alive."

The Ipsacorlen roared, before chasing after them, gaining ground quickly; Ash wasn't even as tall as one of the beast's legs. It reached down with clawed hands, swiping at them, but Carnat tackled Ash out of the way. "Get to the door; Ipsacorlens are dumber than Corlens because the minds mess up in the melding process. We can use that."

They ran to the door and waited. The Ipsacorlen ran at them, ready to punch them into the afterlife. Carnat put on a burst of speed, moving Ash forcefully out of the fist's path. The fist hit the door.

And smashed it right off of its hinges.

"Follow me!" Carnat dragged Ash up, and they through the tunnels. Hak'i guards came round the corner, brandishing electro-spears which crackled and glowed in the darkness. Ash drew the bow, readied the arrow and fired, taking out a guard, who dropped their spear. Carnat threw his dagger at one, which embedded itself in the guard's face. Grabbing a spear, Ash dodged a wild thrust, before knocking the guard down with the butt of the spear, before stabbing him with the pointed end. "Go, Ash!" Carnat said, his armour twisting into a blade, right before he beheaded the final guard.

There was a crash behind them. Metal and sand rained down upon them as they realised that the Ipsacorlen hadn't forgot about them at all. It burst through a wall, throwing the Hak'i corpses into the air, and knocking Carnat into a wall. Ash turned to go back and help him, but Carnat yelled, "Run" to him. Split as to what to do, he took his fight instinct and ran to Carnat.

Carnat was up on his feet and more Hak'i guards had joined. They held him back as they spoke to the Ipsacorlen in its own language, seeming to calm it. Carnat had forgotten one fact about the Corlens; they, for some reason, had a natural affinity with the Hak'i. Watching the distraction, he took his chance and ran towards Ash, who was running towards him. Ash turned as Carnat ran with him.

The tunnel was wide, which was good; Ash was tired and found it difficult running, let alone in a straight line. "Come one." Carnat said gently. "We're nearly there; let's go before the guards catch up. Or they loose the Ipsacorlen on us again."

Ash considered this as some damn good motivation, and continued to run until they could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Panting and gasping for air, they finally reached the surface of Rat'hak and bathed in natural light; they had escaped.

Chapter 50

Cinradahs 5

"Narcsia under attack..."

"Please help me."

Cinradahs played Keinam's message back again and again, trying to understand more of it each time; his speech was clouded by the static noise, before it finally ended with naught but a crackle. While Cinradahs didn't really care for Keinam, he knew that he needed to help him. So, as he sat in his seat in his flagship's bridge, he gave commands to Otor, Maron, Rals and Trexor to protect the Raanian survivors' camp. After that, he turned to Saiun. "Are the Adjeti Wing-Ships ready?"

Saiun nodded. "They've rallied behind us sir."

"Good." Cinradahs called down to Tarib. "Let's go!"

"Lifting off." Tarib studied the screen.

The ship lifted from the ground as the bottom thrusters booted up. Cinradahs imagined the grass around the ship being blown backwards as in a strong wind, maybe tearing some of the individual blades from the ground. He felt the ship lurch, before it passed through Raan's atmosphere. As it did so, he forced himself not to look at the destruction; he knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave now.

"Sir," Tarib called urgently, "hundreds of unidentified objects coming this way!"

"Warspheres?" Saiun asked.

"Almost certainly." Cinradahs looked in the rear cam; his suspicions were correct. "Move the ship out of their way; we'll defeat them at Narcsia after we've wiped the Corlens there. Keinam mentioned gas creatures too; maybe they're fighting each other."

Tarib nodded. "Let them wipe each other out."

"And then destroy the victor." Saiun caught on to his superior's plan.

"Exactly. Can the Adjeti hear me?" Cinradahs asked Saiun.

"Every ship can, yes; you're using the combat-com."

"Good." Cinradahs watched the Warspheres shoot past, not bothering with the Empire nor the Adjeti vessels. He waited a beat, before asking, "They all gone past now?"

Tarib checked the screens. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Grand." Cinradahs called to the Adjeti too. "Go to L-Drive travel now."

Stars and space slid past them, blurring the screens. "Adjeti fleet," Cinradahs called, "Who's in charge without Keinam here?"

There was silence for a moment, before someone answered. "I am sir. Retlin."

"Good to know." Cinradahs seemed happy that the Adjeti fleet didn't have to rely on him. "You control your fleet, I'll control mine. Sound good?"

"I thought that was how it was going to play out anyway." Retlin responded. "Sorry if that came off as rude, sir."

Sir? I could get used to that from an Adjeti. "Don't worry about it. Signing off." Cinradahs turned off his com.

"Signing off sir." Retlin then turned his own off.

The tension on board the ship was palpable, like some sort of invisible fog. The silence was what started it, but then no-one wanted to say the first word. It seemed to last an age, so Cinradahs quickly check the ship's vitals; all was good for now.

"We're here, sir." Tarib broke the silence as the ship dropped out of L-Space.

"Good." Cinradahs went up to the front of the ship and saw the Warspheres swooping towards the planet, but they couldn't see any of the gas creatures Keinam mentioned. "Let the ships loose."

All around the ships, pilots leapt into their ships and took off, hangar doors opening with a red warning light, before they swarmed around the flagship. "Adjeti, are you ready?"

"Our first priority is to find Keinam's ship, and drag him aboard your ship. Then we will join you in the fight." Retlin's voice was firm, even over the crackling com.

"The com's gone funny." Cinradahs seemed worried. "That's what happened to Keinam."

Cinradahs watched Retlin's ships disperse over the area, hunting. "Empire fleet. Move out and engage the enemy."

Affirmative replies came through, before they went into action, missiles launching at the Warspheres, which didn't seem to notice or care. The Warspheres were firing at something else entirely.

"What are they doing?" Cinradahs muttered.

Then they all saw them.

Both Saiun and Cinradahs took a step back as cloud-like ships erupted out of Narcsia. Constantly shifting, the green masses crackled with static electricity as they slowly moved towards the Warspheres and Cinradahs's fleet. His hand found Saiun's, and he gripped it tightly, before glancing over to him; Saiun was transfixed until Cinradahs squeezed his hand, at which he point he turned to him and gave a sad smile. Cinradahs disengaged his hand and walked back over to the centre of the bridge.

"Scan those ships!" Cinradahs pointed at the ships in question with a shaking finger. "See if they have any weaknesses!"

"On it commander!" Tarib ordered her team to do so.

Cinradahs opened up a new com channel. "Retlin, your crew know anything about these?"

The Adjeti commander barked something to his crew. "Not at all, sir. We've never seen any sort of...Cloudships? We've found Keinam though, and we're bringing him to the flagship."

Cinradahs nodded. "Fine, hurry it up." He heard the docking bay seal around something, and the hiss as a ship's ramp lowered. He turned to Saiun. "Keinam's gonna be here in a moment." He turned to his crew. "You got anything yet?"

"They're like clouds," Tarib looked at the screens, not believing what she saw, "but more dense, which could be what enables them to travel in space."

"Sir!" Cinradahs picked up the com. "They've got an electric weapon of some sort; we're fucked!"

Cinradahs looked at the screens; flashes of lightning shot from the Cloudships, annihilating all it touched. Ships were blown apart, Warspheres shattered. Even the Adjeti fleet wasn't safe; the Wing-Ships went down just the same as the others. There was some hope; the Warspheres seemed to be able to smother some of the Cloudships, but more kept coming. "The Warspheres are making vague progress; hold the Cloudships off until the other Warspheres get here. Try and find a way to hurt them."

The door slid open and Keinam limped in, dragging a broken leg along the floor. "They nearly got me," he gasped, "nearly got me." His leg twitched and buckled, and he fell to the floor, still conscious.

"Get a doctor!" Saiun yelled to a crew member, who rushed off to the medical bays.

Cinradahs bent down to speak to Keinam. "What happened?"

Keinam coughed and clutched his chest. "Followed Corlens...to Narcsia." This time when he coughed, there was blood. Cinradahs looked, open-mouthed at him; the invincible Adjeti, grievously wounded before him. "Clouds alive," more blood came out on the next cough, "attacked. Lightning injured my ship. Corlens fight," a barrage of coughs threw up a lot of blood, covering the floor, "they fight against clouds. You can't stop them with guns. Get Orbans."

"Orbans?" Cinradahs was puzzled. "Why?"

"Telekinesis," Keinam sputtered, "move particles around, move gas particles." He coughed again, before falling to the ground.

"Get a medic now!" Cinradahs roared into the com. Two came running in, and lifted Keinam by his shoulders, dragging him to a medical bay.

Tarib watched him go. "I've sent a message to the capital, requesting the Orbans."

Cinradahs nodded, still looking at Keinam's blood. "Thanks."

"How screwed are we?" Tarib looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Cinradahs looked out at the electrical bursts, the ineffective missiles and the Warspheres' smothering technique. "So, so much."

What he didn't say, but thought, was: I don't think we'll make it out of this battle.
Chapter 51

Maron 2

At first, Maron was annoyed at Cinradahs's decision to leave him and Rals behind. He knew he'd be no use in a space battle, as he was a ground trooper, but he could have at least witnessed it or, better yet, manned one of the guns. But instead, Trexor and Admiral Fairns had put them both on a patrol of Tapal while they spoke to Otor. Maron hated being on Raan now; the ground moved beneath his feet, and sounds came from everywhere. Tumbling, crashing, rustling. There was no wind, which gave a silver lining; that always complicated things.

"We going anywhere in particular?" Rals was handling the terrain poorly, not being as sure-footed as Maron.

"I think Fairns just wanted us out the way." Maron could be cynical when he wanted to. "Let's go round the city once and call it a day."

"Yeah, that sounds fine." Rals agreed enthusiastically.

They walked through the ruined city, looking all the while like a pile of parts at a building yard. All that was missing were the builders and the machines. Some vehicles were scattered around, but Maron didn't see any that were intact.

"Glad I wasn't based here." Rals muttered.

"Why would you be?" Maron said dismissively.

"I was tempted to come here when I left Prauw rather than New Orbus," Rals looked around, "but I'm glad I didn't now."

"Yeah, I get you." Maron took an Ukafa stick out and lit it. The taste of it, the exhilarating feeling contrasted entirely with the landscape of Tapal.

Rals tutted. "Really the time?"

"It relaxes me," Maron explained, "just like beauty relaxes you, remember?"

"As I said, there are better ways." Rals insisted.

Maron smirked. "You see any beauty around here?" He gestured around, arm wide to illustrate his point. "You can close your eyes, pretend to see beauty, but in doing so you'll just associate it with this shit-hole of a city."

Rals rounded on him. "Shit-hole of a city? It's been destroyed, thousands dead! And you disrespect them all like that."

Maron turned to him, inhaled Ukafa, and exhaled again. "Shit-hole then, shit-hole now. You can try and be respectful all you like, it don't change anything."

Rals watched him in what he assumed was disbelief, as Maron casually continued walking. Maron didn't care what Rals thought; he was a nice guy to have around, but a bit too liberal for Maron's liking. He had no time for beauty or respect; he had his own ways.

He stopped and listened.

"Why have we stopped?" Rals annoyance was evident in his tone.

"Listen." Maron was silent for a moment, but he was sure he could hear voices. "Voices."

"Let's go then." Rals stood, and was ready to jog over there, before Maron grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Might not be friendly." Maron crouched down, and led the way, hiding behind piles of rubble.

"There!" Rals pointed at the three figures.

Xaosians.

"Bastards." Maron stubbed his Ukafa out and threw it over his shoulder. "Kill them."

Maron got the first shot, bullet going straight through the Xaosian's weak neck armour. It collapsed to the floor, still alive. The other two put their hands up and called to them, "Please! We're just trying to leave."

Maron looked at Rals, who shrugged. "Leave?"

One of the Xaosians pointed to something black in the wreckage. "We're trying to fix this Reaper and-"

"You have the cheek to just go, leaving all the innocents of Raan to suffer?" Maron roared, aiming at the Xaosians.

"It's not our faults." The Xaosian continued. "Xaos he's... there are these things he puts in our heads. They take over our thoughts. Look," he held out a silver egg in his hand, "ours broke when we crashed."

Maron walked up to the Xaosian, extended his hand to take it.

"Yours." The Xaosian on the floor croaked his words, blood poured out of the hole in the armour.

Maron looked down at the dying Xaosian. "What did you say?"

"Just yours." He looked at the other Xaosian, right before the third shot shot the other in the back. A look of surprise crossed his face; an emotion similarly expressed by Maron as he ran back after catching the silver egg as it fell.

They got behind some stacks of rubble and crouched behind them. Rals looked terrified and, while he'd never admit to it, so was Maron; that was close. "We using your patient method?" Rals asked.

"Fuck it, kill the bastards." Maron leaned out and shot the dying one on the floor, finishing him off.

Just one left.

A bullet nearly hit Maron's head; he regretted leaving it at the camp.

Rals shot once more, hitting the Xaosian in the leg as it moved out of its way. The Xaosian retaliated. Rals yelled and went down, blood on his face.

"Rals!" Everything seemed to be in slow motion as he picked up the young man, moving his long hair out of his face to see the wound; it had grazed his forehead, narrowly missing the eye. Still bleeding, but not a serious wound; obviously the shock made Rals go down.

While that calmed Maron down, he wanted this Xaosian dead. Now. He didn't care about any mind-control egg things, he wanted revenge. Gun in front of face as protection, he leapt out from behind the rubble. Expecting surprise from the Xaosian, he was sorely disappointed when the Xaosian started firing straight away. Bullets hit Maron's gun, almost tearing it from his grip.

Maron fired.

Keeping his finger on the trigger, he was glad of the recoil-softeners new guns had. Most bullets went awry, but enough hit his target to tear his helmet to shreds, and its face with it. Maron went up to the corpse, made certain that it was dead and walked away from it to Rals. Picking Rals up, he spoke to him.

"Come on buddy." Maron carried Rals away from the scene. "We'll get you some help."

Something – felt like a bullet – hit Maron in the back, making him drop Rals on the floor. He turned to see what he least expected.

The two hostile Xaosians were up on their feet again, wounds still as bad as they were. But they were more sure footed in death, more agile and more accurate. A bullet whizzed over Maron's head before he shot the faceless one in the face again. A bullet hit his cheek, and he felt a tooth come loose; not his first. Biting back the temptation to scream in agony, he leaned round rubble and emptied a ton of ammo into the functioning corpse before it fell.

The other one was starting to stand up, and Maron was at a loss of what to do and how to kill them. Crouching behind the rubble, he could hear its footsteps getting louder and closer. Trying to rationalise this, he quickly delved into his mind. Three dead, two alive. Differences? One nice, two bastards. It dawned on him. Two egg things... gotta get them out.

As the Xaosian poked its gun around the corner, Maron avoided the shot, grabbed the gun, and dragged it from the dead hand, smashing it into the Xaosian's face. It stumbled backwards, and Maron watched it carefully, before spying a glint of silver in its ear. He grabbed it, and twisted, pulling it free, and a chunk of the Xaosian's ear canal and brain with it. He looked at it in horror; an egg, with stalk embedded into the grey, now gooey, mass of the brain. Feeling repulsed, he flung it away from him, hoping that that was the end of it.

The other one rose. Maron kicked its gun away, and it leapt at him. Maron froze for a moment, before remembering that this was an all-assault weapon. He brought the blade edge up, stabbing the undead Xaosian in the chest. Slamming the corpse to the ground, Maron stomped on its head again and again and again until his armour was splattered with the Xaosian's blood, and the egg could be easily extracted. He looked at the thing with disgust, before putting it in his armour's utility belt with the other one.

Rals was coming round now, and he looked around, and at the blood-covered Maron. "What happened when I was out?"

"I killed them both. Twice." Maron explained the whole thing to Rals.

"How did they come back...why?" Rals had his confused face on; Maron disliked it.

"These." He showed Rals the eggs. "They must control the body after death somehow. Maybe they reactivate and control the brain or something, I'm no biologist."

"But there could be hundreds of dead Xaosians in this city alone." Rals said, having his concerned face on; Maron thought that this face didn't suit Rals's head, but he didn't hate it.

"Exactly." Maron nodded. "Soon, Raan could be facing an army of the dead."
Chapter 52

Irin

They saw the Xaosian ship arrive.

Overnight, they had made a plan. Kivina had made the plan, and the others just agreed; it seemed easier. Unfortunately, they had no idea if it was succeeding until Kivina returned. If she didn't, Tors could say goodbye to his freedom. Pandora, Emola and Cane sat with him around the fire, all looking as nervous as he felt; there was a chance that they would be killed if this went wrong. A huge chance.

"If I don't survive," Cane started, "then-"

"Don't say that." Emola hissed.

Cane gave him a look. "Then find Disa and my son. Tell them I love them."

"Loved." Pandora muttered.

Cane shot her a disapproving look. "Not really the time for perfect grammar, Pandora."

"So, are we doing this shit?" Tors looked around and only Cane made a movement to suggest that they were. "Fine. If I don't survive, then..." His speech fizzled out. "I can't think. There's no-one I want you to speak to, nothing I want you to finish or do...I've wasted my life; I've got nothing."

"Hey..." Pandora put a hand on Tors's arm. "You got good friends, and you've had fun; that's all that matters really."

Tors sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. It'd just be nice to have something material to cling on to."

"I get you." Emola nodded. "If we're doing this, here we go." He took a deep breath; Tors had never seen Emola nervous before and it intrigued him. "If I don't survive, then..." He looked into Pandora's eyes. "I'd like to tell you this Pandora; I love you. I have for ages."

Tors smiled to himself. Knew it!

Pandora seemed taken aback. "Really?"

Emola's face fell, and he spoke quietly. "Yeah. Don't you feel the same?"

Pandora opened her mouth awkwardly, before closing it again. Tors looked at Cane, who gave him a knowing look, simply conveying "oh dear".

When Pandora finally got words out, it was obvious that she'd thought about it well. "Emola. I like you. I really like you. But I don't love you, I'm sorry." Emola's scales turned darker. "But, I'd be willing to go on a date with you, if we survive."

Emola's smile and exhale almost broke his face, Tors was sure. He didn't say anything, nor did he need to.

Pandora turned to them all. "If I don't survive, find my family on Tras, and tell them that I loved my work on Narcsia. Tell them I died in the storms, doing what I loved; researching the history of the Empire."

Tors nodded, but Cane did not share his sentiment. "You want us to lie? About your death?" He shook his head. "Give me one good reason."

"I want my family to remember me for what I enjoyed. Not as a prisoner in a Xaosian camp. I don't want them to think I suffered." Pandora looked at Cane, who nodded once, accepting her words.

"Well," Tors spoke to them all, "now that's done, we need to wait for Kivina."

*

Kivina was still a Xaosian and, with her helmet on, no-one could see the lack of her inhibitor, or the dodgy stitches in her ear. So, in the camp, she could still be one of the indoctrinated, which suited her just fine. As they milled around, preparing for the movement of the newly delivered inhibitors, she sneaked off to the armoury. It was called an armoury, but it was just a glorified hut, the same which the prisoners lived in.

The conditions inside were better than any of the prisoners' huts, which disgusted her; evidently they viewed weapons to be a priority over life. But, she realised as she looked around, they were pretty damn good weapons. Different sorts of guns, knives and blades of all sorts were hanging on the walls, while explosive charges where stacked, probably precariously, on the shelves.

She clipped a bunch of charges and grenades to her belt, and slung some of the guns over her back; she didn't care which ones, they were all deadly enough to cause serious damage. She left the hut, looking around for any other Xaosians; she assumed that they were all fitted with the inhibitors.

Her heart was beating quickly now; she was nervous as hell right now. She crept over to the Xaosian camp; it wasn't really a camp, just a larger and nicer hut than the prisoners had, nothing glamorous. She crouched down next to the wall and unclipped a charge from her belt. Carefully, she clamped it to the wall, activating the inbuilt adhesive to stick it to the wall. Setting the charge to blow in three minutes, she got up, ready to go.

"Kivina!"

"Ah..." Kivina froze, trying to identify the voice. "Yantae!"

"What are you doing?" Yantae sounded suspicious.

"Just chilling back here." Kivina smiled at him, hoping that it wasn't too fake.

She had two options, because she knew he wouldn't believe her; knock him out, or kill him. She didn't want to kill him, she wanted to save him. But if she knocked him out, he could wake quickly, possibly before she could get the weapons to Cane and the others.

"No, you're not." Yantae brought up a rifle. "Be honest, or I will shoot you."

She drew a pistol.

His trigger finger tightened.

And he fell down as she shot first, the dense and sharp Xaosian bullet cutting through his arm.

Not wanting the other Xaosians to see a corpse out in the open, she picked him up by his shoulders, and dragged him across the hard floor into the armoury. Dumping him unceremoniously in a corner near the door, she opened up his armour. Next to the bullet wound, she placed another charge, setting it to two minutes; that was probably all she had left on the other one.

This time, she left the armoury much quicker, not wanting to be caught, nor caught up in the explosion. She could hear the Xaosians talking in the camp, but they didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. She smiled; good.

Weapons slung over her back, she rushed back to Tors's hut.

Snap.

She looked around, swearing to herself and got the shock of her life.

*

Teriva burst into her sister's office, astounding the bodyguard, who went for his gun, until he was waved down by the room's occupant.

"What the hell is going on?" Teriva roared.

Lady Arias stood up and stared Teriva down. "Leave, Atim."

The bodyguard looked at Arias. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Arias snapped, "it's my sister, she's not gonna hurt me." She stared into Teriva's eyes. "She'll back off soon after she has her little hissy fit."

Atim seemed uncomfortable, but left anyway. "I'll be right outside."

"Thank you Atim." Arias smiled; Teriva knew it was fake. She turned to Teriva. "What do you want?"

Teriva pointed out the window of the tower towards the edge of the city. "What the hell is going on there? And why are you working with the Xaosians?"

Arias came out from behind her desk, and placed her hand on Teriva's shoulder, and whispering in her ear, "You'll never understand the ins and outs of politics, so let me put this simply; we are at war, and I am ensuring that Irin is on the winning side." She moved away, touching Teriva's other shoulder as she did so. "The Narcsia refugees are here as prisoners, as you full well can see. In fact, it was explained on the news by Professor Tujin Diank; one of your old colleagues? Did you not see it, it was a lovely speech."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Teriva brushed her sister off her shoulder. "You're disgusting."

"Why?" Arias asked. "I just want the best for my people, you're just too blind to see it; just because you can't fuck your precious Lord anymore-"

Crack.

The slap hurt Teriva's hand, and definitely hurt her shocked sister. Arias touched her cheek slowly, as if in a state of shock. "You struck me..." She stood, dazed for a moment, before snapping back to reality. She smiled. "If you want to save the refugees out of some misplaced sense of duty, then be my guest; the Xaosians will cut you down."

"You don't care?" Teriva felt like a chunk of her had been torn away; Arias had always been a bitch, but she was never this cold. "If I die?"

"Of course I don't want you to die." Arias sighed. "But the Xaosians can't be stopped, can't be killed; they just keep coming."

"Can't be killed?" Teriva noticed Arias's augmentation spark; just like Tujin's.

Arias shook her head. "No. They don't die, but rise again, more unified and deadly than before."

"How is that possible?" Teriva asked, shocked.

"No idea." Arias grimaced. "If you're going down there, tell me if you don't die." Her tone turned darker. "Now get out of my building."

As Teriva left the room, Atim glared at her. As she walked to the elevator, she thought about both Arias's and Tujin's augmentation sparking while promoting the Xaosians. While it could be nothing, and just a coincidence, she turned her augmentation off, disconnecting it from the Irinian network; an unbreachable sub-network of the main Empire network.

Maybe, she thought, it wasn't so unbreachable after all...

*

"Yantae..."

Kivina couldn't help but stare at the Xaosian. He was meant to be dead. She could see the wound in his open armour, and the charge she placed there was deactivated in his hand.

"But you're dead." Kivina backed in horror, he lip trembling.

"Yes." His voice was somehow robotic and monotonous. "Yantae is dead. His body is dead. It belong to me now. All of the Xaosians here do, aside from you. How did you get it out? One of the prisoners? They'll be mine too soon. And the Irinians. Everyone will be united under my rule. And then, we shall expand the Empire."

"How are you doing this Xaos?" Kivina backed away, bringing up her pistol again.

"Xaos?" Whoever, or whatever, was speaking through Yantae seemed amused. "Xaos belongs to me too. And soon, you will again."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Kivina was still backing away, counting down in her head; the other charge should explode in five. Four. Three. Two.

One.

No explosion.

Yantae nodded to her. "I deactivated your other charge too. And I tell you, because it'll be your last independent thought." Yantae raised his rifle.

Kivina shot first, hitting Yantae in the throat, but it didn't stop him shooting her in the leg. She fell to the ground with a feeble gasp.

"Now we wait for the inhibitors." Yantae stood over her. "It's much easier to control the living than the dead."

*

"Kivina's not coming back, is she?" Emola asked.

Tors exhaled. "I don't think so, no."

Cane put his head in his hands and muttered something to himself, Tors didn't know what, but he assumed that it was some sort of cry for help or mercy.

"Are we just gonna sit here now?" Pandora asked, standing up. "Just because Kivina couldn't get us weapons, doesn't mean we're helpless; if we can take down even one Xaosian, they won't be expecting it, and we get a weapon and blast our way out, before alerting the Irinian authorities. Kivina would have helped get all of us out, but she's gone now, probably dead."

A solemn silence fell as they realised that Pandora was right.

Cane stood next to her, and Tors could see a hardness in his eyes. He looked down at Tors and Emola. "Shall we get going then?"

Tors nodded, standing with Emola. "Let's go."

Pandora poked her head out of the hut, looking left and right quickly to make no-one was coming; they were not. "Quick, over there!"

They ran towards another hut, and hugged the wall as Cane checked around the corner, before retreating quickly. "There's a guard round there. If we wait here, we should be able to take him down without him seeing us at all."

They waited with bated breath.

The guard came round the corner. Tors lunged, wrapping his arm around its throat while Cane stole the Xaosian's weapons. The Xaosian's armour protected it from Tors's stranglehold and, as the shock wore off, it lashed out, throwing Tors off of it. Trying to hold on, Tors fell, cracking the piece of armour he was clinging on to.

At that close a range, Cane couldn't miss the shot that burst through the Xaosian's throat.

As it fell, dead, to the ground, they gathered up again. "We've got some weapons, but we need more," Cane held up the assault rifle, pistol and combat knife, "that's enough for two, maybe three of us if one could get in close enough to use the knife effectively."

Tors frowned. "We need more to storm the gate."

"Yeah," Pandora continued, "there's four on the gate, watching both outside and in. I imagine they're the best trained marksmen here; we need to at least match that."

"I think we should head to where Kivina should be," Tors suggested, "maybe she's still alive."

"Or inhibited." Cane argued. "But, yes, we'll go and find her, even if it's just so we stumble upon weapons on the way." He looked at the guns. "I'll take the pistol; I have the steadiest hands, and this requires more accuracy than the others. Decide what you want between you, and let's go."

Emola took the assault rifle, and Tors took the knife, if only to save Pandora from the fighting.

In their rush to leave, they didn't notice the dead Xaosian touch a hand to its still-bleeding throat.

*

Kivina gasped in pain again.

It came in waves, the agony. The feeling of something grating inside yourself felt strange and uncomfortable even before the pain where it's torn through numerous nerves. Blood was still oozing through her armour, but she imagined that there was so much more inside the armour; when she moved her leg, she could feel the wetness. When she looked at Yantae, she could see that there no blood seeping from his throat; he had already bled out.

Kivina grunted. "The inhibitors are...taking a while," she winced as she moved her leg, "aren't they?"

Yantae nodded. "They are. They're being sorted for delivery, ensure maximum efficiency."

Kivina ignored him. It was for the best; that way he – it – stayed silent too.

Silence. Only the sounds of the camp could be heard. Quiet, indiscernible speech, the hum of the electric fence and the hard sound of footsteps.

Footsteps?

She shouldn't be able to hear any footsteps normally, but these were getting louder: closer? Yantae noticed it to, raising his gun and looking around. "Who's there?" Yantae called.

"Maybe it's your crew with the inhibitors." Kivina suggested.

"No." Yantae shut her down. "Impossible; I can see them through their own eyes. No-one should be here. Unless it's your helpers."

As if on cue, Cane shot Yantae twice; once in the leg, once in the chest. The leg-shot caught him off balance, and the chest-shot knocked him down. Tors ran over to Kivina, evidently worried about her.

"Are you alright?" Tors asked, checking her leg. "Oh god..."

"No." Kivina answered bluntly, before snatching Tors's knife from him, and slashed down on Yantae's neck again and again, ignoring Tors's shouts and attempts to drag her from him, even as he twitched and tried to stand, until his head was hanging on only by flesh; he wasn't coming back this time.

She dropped the knife and collapsed to the floor, breathing as if she'd run a marathon. Pandora looked at the weapons on Kivina's back. "Got enough there?" Pandora smiled as she said it.

Kivina smiled, understanding the sarcasm. "Never have enough weapons."

She threw the guns to the ground, and they all picked up one, leaving some behind; Kivina said it was impractical to take too many each, with nowhere to put them. "Now let's get out of this dump."

She turned to look down at Yantae's head again, feeling as if part of her was lost as well.

Gunshot.

Shout of pain.

Gun clattered to the ground from a bloodied hand.

"Emola!" Pandora shot the Xaosian back, and he stumbled back once, before calling the others. The Xaosian's hut slowly began to stir as they mobilised to catch or kill the prisoners.

"Run for the gate!" Kivina roared, steeling herself for the pain that was about to accompany the running.

Time seemed to slow. Doors swung open, Xaosians poured out. The pain in her leg slowly emerged, going from just a niggle, to complete agony as she put pressure on it. Gunshot. The ground behind her spat small grey boulders at her. Gunshot. She missed one of them, the pain distracting her at the last moment. Another bullet narrowly missed her, and she assumed that it scratched the edge of her armour. Emola was being shielded by Tors, Cane and Pandora as the Xaosians closed in, their armour and slow start keeping being the only things that kept them behind Kivina. Looking over her shoulder, she could see them form a firing line, and shoot. Taking the pain, she dived onto the others, taking them down as the bullets whizzed over their heads.

"Get up!" Kivina got off of them, and they all followed suit, looking around them; Xaosians had closed them off left, right and behind. They ran a little further forward, before being forced to stop.

The gate was right in front of them; they had made it.

And were now about to pay the cost.

*

Teriva could see the prison camp now; the giant searchlights were just two of many of the traditional or clichéd archetypes she could see. The barbed wire topping the fence was always a sure thing, but the electric fence was usually optional. She walked right into one of the searchlights' path, wanting to speak to whoever was in charge; she knew she couldn't do anything, but at least she could see what she was dealing with.

But nobody hailed her, or acknowledged her, or even, in the worst case scenario, shot at her. Something's amiss...

She walked closer to the gate and saw a number of armoured Xaosians closing in on a small group; two Scalimen, a human, another Xaosian, and what seemed to be a Trasman. Intrigued and worried, she grew closer and shouted in. "What's going on?"

A Xaosian on the guard turned to look at her, not recognising her at first. "Ah, Lady Teriva. These prisoners tried to escape; we're only trying to put them back in their huts."

Teriva looked at the group; one had a wounded hand, another a wounded leg. They all terrible, and growing gaunt. "Release them."

Another guard looked around to see. "We answer to Lord Xaos."

Teriva sighed and put her hand in her pocket; she knew it was a good idea to bring this. "No, you don't." With the element of surprise on her side, she drew her compact pistol and shot the two guards, knocking them from their podiums atop the gate.

The Xaosians inside turned to her, and some shot through the gate. She screamed as she ducked beneath the bullets. Keeping one eye closed, she peeked at the group of prisoners.

*

While surrounded, Kivina had pretended to be fiddling with her belt, hiding her actions with a stoop and her weapon. Instead of her belt, she was actually fiddling with what was attached to it; the charges and explosives she had stolen. Feeling grateful to the woman outside for the distraction, Kivina set the timer on a charge for two seconds, before lobbing it at the Xaosians near the gate.

They saw it too late as it exploded, knocking them down. Other Xaosians raised guns to fire, but Kivina had already dispensed charges to them; they were only force charges, and unlikely to kill, only damage. Tors and Cane fired on those that the charges did affect as Kivina prepared another one, and Pandora protected Emola, keeping an eye on him more than the surrounding battle. No flames in this battle, no real explosions, just a burst of kinetic energy that threw the Xaosians out of its blast radius. With the Xaosians cleared out of the way of the gate, she chucked her final one at its centre. It detonated, blowing the lock.

"Come on!" Kivina yelled, ignoring her pain again; pain is for the weak.

She led the way, Tors and Cane covering them from behind as the Xaosians got up; they obviously expected this to be an easy catch. Tors shot down some that were getting up, and Cane knocked a few back down. Kivina kicked the gate, and it opened with a clang, before falling off its hinges; evidently the charges did more damage than she'd thought.

She let Pandora and Emola go through first, before following and waiting for Tors and Cane to get through as they backed towards the gate, firing on the approaching Xaosians.

"Follow me!" The other woman cried, beckoning them over to her.

The searchlights came back on, but Tors and Cane shot them out, hearing the sprinkle of falling glass as they did so. They ran across the rocky surface of Irin, before the other woman stopped and got on her knees.

"What are you doing?" Kivina sounded annoyed.

"One minute." Using the palm of her hand, she cleared some of the small rocks off of a metal pipe. "Sewage entrance to the city; you won't be able to get past the checkpoint other wise."

Tors looked at the others, who seemed to agree with him; it wouldn't be so bad. "Let's go then."

She nodded, opening the panel. "Just drop through there, I'll close this behind you."

They all jumped down aside from Kivina, who lowered herself in slowly, and still cried out in pain when pressure was put on the foot again. The other woman was the last one down, and when the sewer was sealed, the tunnels seemed to glow.

"Anyway, I'm Teriva," she smiled, "and you're safe now."

Kivina mirrored her smile; both were strained. They both knew that if the Xaosians came down here, they had nowhere to run and hide.

"Safe?" Tors scoffed. "Haven't been safe for months; first Narcsia, now this."

Teriva tried a sympathetic expression, but she didn't know what it was meant to look like. "Don't worry; I intend to get us all on a flight out of the capital and to Orbus to get help to rescue all of the others." She touched her augmentation and moved her lips slowly for a moment. "Done. We'll have a ship waiting for us at the spaceport. It'll have a med-bay too, so you can get patched up there." She smiled to all of them, the worry from her face gone. "Let's get you out of here."
Chapter 53

Raan

The stones beneath Maron's feet took on a whole new light as he walked back towards the survivors' camp on the edge of Tapal. He knew that dead things lay under all of them, but from what he'd seen before, he knew that they weren't going to stay dead for long. In fact, he was surprised that whatever controlled them let them lay dormant for so long. Unless the eggs in their skulls were damaged, they should awake.

And an army of the dead would fall upon the remnants of Raan.

Rals's injury wasn't as bad as Maron had first thought, and neither was his own; he'd only chipped his tooth, but a couple of layers of skin had been torn and burnt. Rals's was worse than Maron's, with a large gash along the side of his head, and a graze of his forehead. He seemed to be fine, but Maron knew that he needed urgent attention just to make sure.

"You hearing any movement, Rals?" Maron knew that his hearing was not as good as his younger partner's.

"Just the usual rickety sounds of the rubble." Rals was looking around at the aforesaid rubble. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Well...you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I get you."

They made their way back to the survivors' camp and looked around searching for someone to tell; Admiral Fairns, General Trexor, or Warchief Otor would do. Maron knew there was no point telling a standard trooper; they wouldn't listen, or care.

Eventually, Rals pointed out the formerly-white armour of Admiral Fairns, who was speaking with Otor. While Otor seemed calm for a change, Fairns seemed to have lost it, shouting animatedly at the Adjeti. As Maron drew closer, Fairns abruptly stopped and turned to face him. "Maron, Rals. What news?"

Maron opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again; where the hell do I start from?

Rals looked sideways at Maron, before Otor turned to him. "You. Kid. What happened?"

Rals looked nervously at the Adjeti, before stuttering his version of events. "We found Xaosians trying to escape. Th-they...we killed them..." He trailed off.

Otor looked at Fairns, then at Maron, who nodded. "We killed them." Maron's voice was steeled. "And then they were alive again." He let that sink in for a few minutes. Otor seemed enthralled and intrigued, whereas Fairns gave him a look of disbelief.

"Alive again?" Fairns's tone was mocking, almost patronising. "Are you sure you killed them?"

"Of course I fucking killed them." Maron hissed. "They died! I watched them die! They have a thing implanted in their brains," He rustled through his pockets, producing the two eggs, "these things. They control the Xaosians before and after death via some sort of... I don't know, maybe some sort of Xaosian network or something. The only way to stop them is to damage or remove these things."

Otor held out his hand and Maron gave him one of the eggs. Otor brought it up to his face and examined it, turning it over and over in his palm. "A lot of Xaosians have these." Otor observed. "From my time among them, I noticed these things; I thought they might have been inbuilt com units, but evidently not. What is curious, however, is that Xaos has one too."

Maron felt his brow furrow. "So Xaos is also being controlled?"

Otor nodded. "Certainly seems like it." A thought struck him. "I remember, on Oblivion, me and Keinam noticed the presence of a Xaosian AI communicating between Xaos and Oblivion. Perhaps the AI is linking them together. Or," Otor clearly wasn't sure about what he was about to say, "a rogue AI is controlling them."

Fairns scoffed. "Are you lot hearing yourselves? Dead rising again? Rogue AI?" He gave them a disgusted look. "The hell's wrong with you all?"

Maron saw Otor's fist clench, and realised that the Adjeti was barely resisting decking the Admiral, just like him.

Rals didn't resist, and Fairns stumbled backwards in surprise; Rals didn't hit him too hard. "Maybe you should walk out into the city yourself, Admiral." Fairns gave Rals a look of disgust, but stayed away, shocked that he'd punched him. "Go on. Have a look around there. You'll find one, I'm sure."

"What's going on?" Trexor approached them, one hand on his sword hilt. He looked at each of them, inspecting their expressions. "Something bad's happened, hasn't it?"

Fairns spoke up first. "They found some Xaosians, and didn't kill them properly, so they thought that the Xaosians were some sort of undead thing." Fairns scoffed. "Damn idiots."

"We did kill them." Maron said through gritted teeth. "Twice. The other dead Xaosians could also rise again, and try to kill us all."

Trexor looked at Maron, and raised an eyebrow. Maron didn't flinch. When doing the same to Fairns, Trexor saw a glimmer of doubt. Trexor nodded. "Maron believes in what he says. Even you, Admiral, a small part of you believes it too. We need guards on the camp, day and night now. Concentrate the doctors on the soldiers; we need them ready to fight. Just in case."

"Thank you." Maron nodded gratefully towards Trexor.

"Don't thank me yet; there are a lot of dead Xaosians under the rubble." Trexor paused, and his tone turned mournful. "I uncovered a load myself."

He walked away, presumably to arrange the guard duty. Maron's glare followed Fairns as he too rushed away.

"What now?" Rals asked.

"Now," Otor said ominously, "we wait."

*

The Xaosian emerged that night.

Trexor looked out with one of the few pairs of binoculars they had scrounged from the military base. He couldn't see too far into the city, but he saw the rubble move and tip as the Xaosians broke through to the surface. As soon as he saw them, he knew that they shouldn't be alive. Some had parts missing, bullet wounds, split armour and broken bones, but they moved like they were alive. Better. Methodical in their approach, the closest ones waited as others amassed with them, forming a wall of the undead. More and more kept coming, some dragging themselves along the floor after losing their legs, leaving a thin trail of blood behind. Most had weapons, but most of them makeshift. There were few pistols, less rifles, and almost no larger guns. Instead, they held melee weapons; knives, small swords, pipes, even just stone and bricks.

And there were hundreds of them. Trexor knew that there couldn't have been thousands; surely, there wasn't that many dead. But maybe there was; they could have been amassing from other towns around Tapal.

"They're forming an army." Trexor called to Maron. "A fucking wall of dead Xaosians."

"Wall?" Rals asked, confused.

"You heard right." Maron said, taking the binoculars from Trexor. "They're in like a block formation; they intend to just march here and tear us all apart."

"They coming?" Fairns came over, barking questions.

Trexor turned to him. "Get everyone who can fire a weapon, everyone who can use one. We'll lose some, but we can't run; there's nowhere to go where they can't find us. We have to stop for rest, for food. They don't need either. We could all die tonight. But we can fight to the end."

Maron looked at Trexor dismissively. "Yeah, that. Fairns, get people ready at the edge of the camp."

*

Otor could see the Xaosians from his position. The others stood in a straight line behind him, only a few of them soldiers. Nearest to him were Fairns and Trexor, followed by Maron and Rals; those four were the only ones with decent weapons. Maron and Rals had their T-18s, Fairns had a Xaosian X-46 rifle, salvaged from Tapal. Trexor had his sword and a half-stocked Xaosian pistol. Most of the other soldiers had low ammunition or salvaged weapons, along with either a blade or a blunt weapon; not exactly armed to the teeth.

Trexor looked around at the line. He saw Tya, holding a battered pistol and a small sword, shaking as she stood. She smiled at him, and he tried to broadcast a look of reassurance, but he didn't think he managed it. She was between two actual soldiers, which reassured him. Further along the line was Trem, limping slightly; obviously he had volunteered, and not listened to a rejection. Next to him was Disa, trembling. He stood slightly ahead of her; obviously trying to protect her. Trexor shook his head; Disa shouldn't be there, she was just a survivor, a mother, not a trained soldier or fighter. She had no place here. Neither did Tya, but at least she'd joined the army of her own accord; she could be a fighter.

Otor's hands twisted into a blade on the right, and the blood-pellet gun on the left. He said a few words of encouragement to Trexor, Maron and Rals, and then fastened his exoskeleton around his face, leaving only eyes free; he was ready.

Just in time.

A bullet nicked Otor, only missing his eye because he jolted out of the way; this was a good marksman. Whatever was controlling them was good; more evidence that it was some sort of AI in charge. Being methodical and simply better than organic lifeforms was pretty much the reason AIs existed.

"These guys are fuckin' dangerous!" Otor yelled to the others. "Damn good marksmen. If you can get close, I reckon their bodies and armour were weakened by the quake. And the whole being dead thing."

Maron nodded. "That's a fair point. Charge them?"

Fairns looked terrified behind his visor. "Ch-charge?"

Trexor raised his sword and roared. "Charge!"

Trexor led the charge, Otor at his side. Fast footsteps thundered on the ground, almost drowning out their roars as they met the Xaosians. Trexor crashed at one, cleaving an arm, holding a gun, loose, but it kept coming. It slashed at Trexor, who blocked most hits, pushing it back, and punching the bastard with his free hand. The Xaosian fell down, and Trexor slammed the blade through its chest. Extracting it, he moved on to another one, knocking it back.

"Trexor, look out!"

Trexor turned round, to see the Xaosian twisting around to stab him, the wound in its chest fully visible. Shocked still for a moment, he leaned back just in time to only get a scrape on his armour.

"Bust their heads in!" Maron yelled. "They won't stop unless the thing in their ears can't control them anymore."

Maron twisted and ducked through the hordes, trying to land a blow to the head. But whatever was controlling these things anticipated his moves; not all of them, but enough of them to hinder his efforts. No bullet nor blade had hit a head yet, only body and limbs; he had severed all four limbs from one, but it still managed to wriggle and roll around, trying to gnaw at his feet. He crushed its face beneath his foot, shattering the already-damaged helmet and turning the head inside to mush.

Rals, faster than Maron in his youth and stature, was able to land a few more hits than Maron, but not enough to make much of a difference. Bullets landed, powerful enough to shatter the helmets, but obviously the AI or whatever that was in charge upped its game, and he never got a second direct hit to the head. He pushed them back, knocked them down, but there were too many to concentrate on just one.

Fairns stayed back, lurking on the edges of the combat, shooting at random Xaosians every now and then. They mostly ignored him; he was no threat, they simply dodged his bullets.

Trem and Otor were having more luck.

Trem kept Disa back behind him, shielding her from the Xaosians. She fought, and managed to get a few good hits in; evidently the AI controller found it easier to predict the actions of soldiers. But it adapted, soon blocking her every move. Trem, however, got in when they blocked her, punching their battered helmets in with his fist, before stabbing them with his hidden blade, tearing through their heads. He leapt, span and flipped over oncoming blows, attacking from above as he did so.

Otor massacred them all around him. When in close range, he twisted his left arm from the gun into another blade. With both blades actually being his arms, they were much easier to wield than ordinary blades, transforming himself into a living weapon. The AI had no predictions for the Adjeti; it hadn't seen them in action before, and Otor's rage and possible madness made him more unpredictable than most. The Xaosians tried to dodge his attacks, but very little did. It hurt him every time he hit them; there were nerve endings in his exoskeleton, and the blades bent slightly when they hit or cut through things, causing him intense pain. It was all he could do to keep silent, rather than to cry out in agony.

But even while they made progress, the Xaosians were well trained and well organised; the controlling force calculated their every move, most of which were spot on.

They were fighting a losing battle and they knew it.
