Emergence: Chapter 51

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.”