Christmas Poem!

As the stocking hangs over the fire

and your eyes begin to tire,

Go to sleep

and in he'll creep.

Sneaks into your children's rooms

and there he waits and looms.

Asleep, the child doesn't mind

As he leaves a present behind.

The practises were shocking

as he stuffed the stocking.

And with that, he goes,

Spewing “ho, ho, ho”s.

Whether you're naughty or nice,

Santa is who you'll entice.

No matter your gender,

Santa Claus is a Sex Offender.

Emergence: Chapter 54

Deora

Eyes opened to darkness.

Her body ached, and her face felt fractured and wet. Wanting to wipe her face, she tried to move her hand, scraping it on the slab of darkness restricting movement. Trying the other hand, she heard what sounded like a small landslide, assaulting her ears. She wanted to cover them, shield them from the creaking, clashing and tumbling. Wanting to scream, she tried to open her mouth, call for help, but she couldn't; it was like it wasn't there, replaced by a numb ache. Her jaw wouldn't move.

She wanted to reach up and touch her jaw, feel her face and wipe the wetness from her cheeks. She moved the free hand again, and she could hear grit moving, falling down on her. She could smell the dry earth and, as it poured down onto her, she could taste copper; blood or metal? She let out a faint sound, burning her throat on its way out. She pushed with her hand, darkness creaking, and she could feel it moving.

Cracks appeared.

Forcing her eyes closed, she felt the lids burn as the darkness was breached. The cracks where light peeked through were like small lightning bolts flashing up in front of her face, yet never going away. Only fading slightly. She squinted with one eye, trying to minimise the blinding from above. She moved her free hand again, letting more light in as it shoved the darkness aside. Looking at her hand, she saw skin scratched away and dry blood lacing her palm like cracked paint. But no pain. Her legs could move again now, and she freed her trapped hand. Slowly, she moved her hand towards her face. It touched something hard before it reached her face. She felt it move and tug on part of her face. Grabbing it, she felt smooth ridges carved into it. Lifting it, her brain exploded, sending a shockwave of pain down her body. Her feet twitched and her free hand tensed. She let go of the thing attached to her face, and ran her hand along its edge. Smooth, with grooves at regular points along it. The rectangles between the grooves were curved, and felt just like –

Teeth.

She realised why she couldn't move her mouth, why she couldn't feel her mouth, and why it only gave her pain when she moved it. Along the bottom of it, she could the leaking tubes that were her veins and arteries. When her fingers brushed them, a feeling went through her. Not quite pain, but more of a dull pressure running under her skin. She moved her hand away, and looked at it again. Spots of still-damp blood had found their way onto her palm, but only a couple; the rogue veins must have mostly dried up.

She dragged herself up into a sitting position, vertebrae cracking. Her head was still fuzzy, and she looked down at herself. Blood. Lots of it. Her clothes were torn, only red rags clung to her cold skin now. Her once-white legs were covered in brown and black dust, presumably from whatever was on top of her when she awoke.

Awoke from what?

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the fuzziness. Her brains seemed to slid around, crashing off the sides of her skull, trying to break free. As she shook her head, she felt a strange tugging sensation on her left ear. She reached her hand up to touch it, but her ear felt normal. Still there.

What happened to me?

She remembered running, pain and a dark figure standing in front of her. She remembered the pounding of her heart, the shallow air leaving her lungs, the rage and the desperation. She remembered the pain before the darkness, solid pain erupting from the dark figure. She stopped still, staring at her hands again; they had held something which was taken. It was snatched from her. Her stomach ached as she remembered; phantom pain from before.

“You died.”

Her eyes widened as her heart sped up; she'd died? More confused than scared, her eyes darting side to side, dragging all of what she knew together; the dark figure had killed her. She knew that much. Her last thought came back to her: But I killed him?

“You did. He died.”

There was another voice in her head. One she didn't recognise. It wasn't her's, she knew that. She tried to speak to it, but her lower jaw was hanging off, so no words came out. What are you? She thought back; the voice was in her head, perhaps it could hear her thoughts.

She felt something move in her ear, and it was deafening. She could almost feel her skull tearing itself apart from within. The sound stopped, and she heard a faint clicking and felt something cold moving on her cheek. She raised a shaking hand towards it. Her fingers brushed the metal wire as it moved down her face, covering both cheeks in the cold metal. Beneath the cold, she could feel warmth. Then pain. The tugging on the bottom of her face intensified, she tried to cry, but couldn't.

She couldn't move.

Her hands froze in position, and her legs stopped straining. Her eyes stopped moving, and all she could do was stare. The jumbled mass of confusion lodged in her mind like a tumour stopped her from being able to piece together a coherent thought and, even when she did manage to link one together, it was stolen back by the flash of pain. With one final blast of pain, she let out a scream. She felt her jaw reconnect with the rest of her skull, muscles and bone repaired as it opened, letting out a sound that could only personify fear.

Her mouth slammed closed.

She could still feel the wire across her face, although it seemed to have amassed into one smooth coating from her eyes down to her neck. It was cold, but that quickly faded. As did the pain in her jaw. The thoughts plaguing her vanished one-by-one, as if deleted. Questions vanished from her mind, faces deleted, and relationships wiped from her memories. Motor-skills were taken from her, unable to move, barely able to make the deep breaths that could slow her heart down. Her fear was deleted, confusion eradicated, and breathing back to normality.

The wires from her ear reached out again, plunging deep into her skin like a thousand needles, splitting their ends again and again to expand and wrap themselves around her muscles and organs, taking control of them. Each muscle was flexed and tensed, and heart-rate adjusted. She stood, faster than the standard human.

Her heard turned to the left, and looked past the fire and rubble, feeling nothing.

“Left.”

She turned left, and began to walk. Joints that seemed new and stiff to her before were working perfectly now, carrying her across the scorched earth of Raan.

Deora was gone for good.

She belonged to the Voice now.

Beasts of Hallow's Eve

Orange faces grow out the ground

leering.

Eyes carved into sheets of white

watching.

Creatures of the night run through streets,

onto homes, into homes.

Trick or treat they screech.

Trick or treat they hiss.

TRICK OR TREAT they roar!

Appease the beasts of night

sweets of all kinds.

Luscious, sweet

bitter, or sour,

any will do.

Their hunger must be satisfied.

They run,

hunger unquenchable.

Bags full of your offerings.

Why don't they eat there?

Their masters await, calling them back

before the true darkness takes hold.

Their masters sift through our offerings,

making sure the beasts are satisfied, but not gluttons.

The hunger is quenched.

Curtains open, and people peek out once more.

The orange faces go away.

The white sheets are destroyed, blinded.

And the beasts are banished for another year.

Emergence: Chapter 53

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.

Empire: Chapter 1

It smashed through her bedroom wall.

Deora tried to shield herself from the flying chunks of brick and plaster, but fell as they rushed towards her. Quickly, she checked her self over for bruises or scratches, and noticed small patches of blood on her arms. Her nose tickled, and her eyes hurt; 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; she'd studied Xaosian culture for her dissertation, including their technology. That was more than a decade ago, others could've got their tech.

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 went to stand near the door, ready to bolt when she found out what the thing was.

A pneumatic hiss.

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 didn't know what type, and she didn't care either; they could kill her either way. 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. At first, she thought it was the Xaosians' native Xarici, but that was much more sibilant than what they were saying now. She didn't know the language, so there was no point sticking around.

She ran, tripping over her feet as she did so, barely keeping upright. The hallway was narrow enough to give her something to cling on to if she did fall, 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. Probably just those shit plates. Grabbing her keys from the table, she ran out of the dining room and towards her front door.

Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't get the key in the lock. She looked behind her, seeing their shadows enter the room. Grabbing the key with both hands, she guided it to lock and wrenched it open. A bullet slammed into as it opened, narrowly missing her head. She bit back the scream this time, and stared at the bullet-hole in shock.

She continued to run, slamming the door closed 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 eight invaders. If she didn't, they could be murdered, or the Xaosians might pass them by altogether. If they died because I left them...She took a deep breath, weighing up her choices. But if they died because I took them with me, would I feel more or less guilty? Less, she'd thought at first. However, then she'd have had a direct role in their deaths. If I do nothing, could I live with myself? She pressed the “call” button.

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

Too late now.

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 her cuts on her arm were bleeding even more now, tracing rivers on her skin. The cuts stung slightly, like papercuts, but she didn't care about that right now.

Thud.

The top of the elevator buckled as one of Xaosians 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.

What was outside was considerably worse than the eight Xaosians.

Hordes of Xaosian troops stormed the streets, piling off of huge Xaosian 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 for them. Bombing runs had turned the streets into twisting craters, sparks flying from the ground, mixing with the water from the sewage system.

Some Raanians released that running was futile, and tried to escape in their Autos. It could 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 at this close range. 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, dropping the gun. Hands shook, and knees threatened to buckle. She touched her face, and 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. No! I can't die now!

From her skyscraper, she heard gunfire and screams. She sank to her knees, arms hanging limp at her side. She just stared straight ahead, mouth hanging open. I could have saved them. Self-hate grew inside her, eclipsing her hatred for the Xaosians that killed them. I could have helped them. I should have helped them! A part of her knew that if she did, they all still would have been killed. I could have tried. Her vision blurred again, and her breathing hurt even more with every breath. But she knew that, if she died, then there deaths were for nothing; she sacrificed them for herself. Selfish bitch.

Groaning.

She turned around to see the Xaosian she'd shot stand up. She backed away on her knees, unable to muster the energy to stand. Her breathing hurt, her vision clouded red, and the Xaosian loomed over her, gun clutched in hand.

“I...shot,” she coughed, throwing blood over the Xaosian's legs, “shot...you. You should be dead.”

The Xaosians voice was strangely emotionless and monotonous. “I was. You killed me. But you didn't do it right.”

Deora had no idea what was happening, but she knew this was the end; the last few seconds were full of pain, confusion and regret. A lone tear mixed with the blood on her face.

A bullet went through her skull.

Death was almost a relief.

Emergence: Chapter 52

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.”

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.”

Emergence: Chapter 50

“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.