Emergence: Chapter 8

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.

Emergence: Chapter 7

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.”

“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.

Emergence: Chapter 6

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.

Emergence: Chapter 5

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.

Emergence: Chapter 4

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!” Cinradahs said, his tendons on his neck standing out, and his eyes bulged.

“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.

Emergence: Chapter 3

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't have to call me bro, bro. Your accent doesn't suit it.”

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!

Emergence: Chapter 2

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 Planetary Defence System (PDS) 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 ships fired upon what remained of Raan's PDS with the power of the Solus* itself; inspired by the Adjeti World-Burner absorbed through enhanced solar-panels, 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 their 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 cases. 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?”

“Teams of snipers from the windows on the eighth, ninth and tenth floors,” Trexor said quickly; he had already thought this through, “Get the Stingers to distract and take down the Crushers. My team will move in, with the snipers covering us.”

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.

“You!” Trexor said as he reached his destination. “Name?”

The girl at the computer pushed his outstretched finger away from her face. “I'm Tya, General. Wha' do you wan'?”

Trexor noted the Northern accent.“You're in charge of the ODS?”

“At the momen' sir; Officer Amei is injured, sir.” said the flustered girl.

Trexor leaned in. “Just because your from the North, doesn't mean you have to call us Southern twats “sir” all the time.”

“Yes General.” Tya said.

“Now, you answer to me from now on.” Trexor said.

“Bu', Admiral Fairns-”

Trexor leant in towards her and hissed, “Fairns is an idiot; he can't make the decisions best for this planet. Best for us. His plan would've got me and all of my team slaughtered. I am in charge now.”

Tya moved away, sliding her chair along the computer bay's railing. “...Wha' do you wan'?”

“Your loyalty. And with that comes the control of the ODS. Full control. How much of it do we have left?”

Tya turned to her computer. “Abou' Seventeen percen', but only four of the Orbital Cannons remain.”

“Turn two cannons off, and keep them like that until I say otherwise. Don't ask questions!” Trexor's tone softened. “Just do as I tell you. And don't tell Fairns.”

Trexor turned to walk away, but quickly turned back. “I will be in contact. Watch the coms.”

There was a group of men near the the weapons bay, who turned to Trexor as he arrived. Trexor surveyed them; there was probably over fifty of them, but no more than seventy. 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.” said one of the men nearest to him; Reinf. 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 ignore them; fight for yourselves. Fight until you are kicking and screaming. If you flee, we will recondition or kill you. If you stay and fight with me, and we win, your rewards will be unparalleled.” The men were looking more hopeful now, Trexor decided. 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 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 were closing 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 the Stinger 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. But still one Crusher remained.

More Stingers fired upon the Crusher, drowning it in flames and smoke yet causing no damage to the behemoth itself. 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 pilot's 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. It fell for what seemed like hours, before finally the crunch as it hit the solid rock at the bottom of the ravine sounded.

“Go!” Trexor roared, pointing his sword forward.

With the Xaosian's barricades left in tatters, they had no defence from Trexor's charge and the snipers still taking them down. Trexor took quickly aim and fired at the Xaosians. The head-shots dropped them quickly, but the body-shots only forced them back, denting their armour. Trexor felt something hit him in the shoulder; a Projectile-Stun bullet from some idiot who doesn't know how to use his weapon.

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 carved through the armour; it's impact-resistant material was almost useless when at close-range. Bullets pierced the armour when they hit. Trexor felt another bullet hit his thigh, penetrating the armour; Projectile-Kill. He grunted as it hit, the armour only slowing it slightly. This was pain beyond agony and he nearly fell, but he steeled himself, grit his teeth and continued; he'd suffered worse: the scar on his back was testament to that.

The others had joined him now, using their standard-issue knives 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, before being carved open, blood and gore spilling out. Trexor shot the Xaosian in the foot, before cleaving his head clean off. A bullet smashed against Trexor's helmet, cracking the reinforced glass. But it was only a glancing shot, and another man returned the shot, catching the Xaosian in the throat. The Xaosian clutched at its throat, dropping its weapons, before collapsing to its knees, either dead or unconscious.

“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 smirked, before speaking into his com. “Target the Xaosians at the end of bridge.”

Fire rained down from the sky as Tya activated the Orbital Cannons.