Ash could just about see the Dominort stand, wider and taller than any other Hak'i. He raised a hand, before swinging it down. A horn blew out.
A tugging thought came into Ash's head. “Carnat. What are we fighting?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
A door on the other side of the arena opened and a Hak'i entered. In one hand, it held a whip, and in the other a shield.
“Don't we get armour?” Ash asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Expensive way to dress a beast's meal.”
“Ah.”
The whip-wielding Hak'i walked backwards into the arena, leading something with it. The thing shrieked, before impaling the Hak'i with a leg. The Hak'i slid slowly down the leg, leaving a bloody smear down it.
“What is that?” Ash backed away from the twelve-legged beast.
Carnat thought for a moment. “Duodecinid. From what I remember, they like to use their legs as their main weapons-”
“Yup.”
“-but, you see the body is made of two pods and a head? The back pod has a stinger, and the head...well, it has fangs.”
“Right.” Ash's legs wanted to surrender now.
Carnat noticed, and placed a hand on Ash's bare shoulder. “Just stay back, I'll deal with it. Shoot it if you can.”
“Right.”
Carnat turned to face the beast and walked towards it as it shook the Hak'i's carcass off. Carnat looked back at Ash and nodded to him. Ash raised the crossbow and fired at the Duodecinid.
The beast turned as the bolt clattered uselessly to the ground next to it. Ash swore under his breath, and the panicked look on Carnat's face summed up how he felt. Carnat ran back to Ash as the Duodecinid pursued, moving all too gracefully for a beast of its size and shape. From the centre of Carnat's chest, an ivory coating spread over his body, forming a complete exoskeleton, leaving only eyes uncovered. Ash backed away as Carnat's arm twisted into a cylinder and a red pellet blasted out of it, tearing through the Duodecinid's head, splitting one of its eyes open. Carnat threw Ash aside, knocking him into the outer wall. The audience roared as Ash's head hit the wall and he winced in pain.
“KILL IT! KILL IT!”
“KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”
The Duodecinid shrieked as purple blood and orange pus erupted from its ruptered eye. Carnat walked around the wounded creature and spread his arms wide, proclaiming his future victory; Ash thought he was just vying for attention. The beast reared up behind him, but as it brought a leg down on Carnat, he twisted out of the way and grabbed the leg. Ash could only just make out where Carnat's exoskeleton shifted from being a makeshift-gun into a makeshift-blade, as Carnat sliced through the Duodecinid's leg with one smooth sweep. It shrieked again, stumbling and falling down. Ash heard Carnat whisper something, before he plunged the severed leg through the creature's head, ending its life.
Ash got up and walked over to Carnat, who's exoskeleton was retracting back into his chest. The audience applauded with roars and shouts as Carnat lifted Ash's hand high, signalling the victory. They turned and walked back to the entrance.
“You ok?”
“Yeah,” Ash nodded, “You?
“Of course.” Carnat smiled. “Why wouldn't I be? There was no way I would lose that fight.”
Ash was puzzled. “But I saw you when I missed that shot; you were terrified.”
“I wasn't scared for me.”
Chapter 24
Trexor 5
Trexor watched as hundreds of quake survivors walked west to the fields of Tapal. Many leaned on each other for mutual support, whereas the able-bodied and unharmed carried the more severely wounded. Trexor knew there was no point in moving the most wounded; there was no way medical teams would arrive in time to help, if any could make it. Trem had shared his green miracle liquid with a few of the wounded, but there was never any hope of there being enough to go round.
Trem stood next to Trexor and pointed in the distance. “Look: the buildings have sank over there. Maybe we should check it out.”
Trexor grunted non-committally, before heading over to where Trem was pointing. Crossing the road was an ordeal in itself; it was twisted around in the quake, making it more akin to climbing a rocky wall than simply walking. Trexor gasped as he lost his footing; the stone beneath his feet crumbled and fell down, nearly taking him with it. When he reached the peak, he jumped back down to the ground and wandered over to the gaping holes in the ground.
Similar to the chasm in the centre of Raan, these stretched down further than the eye could see; a descent into darkness that no man should ever take. The size of just one hole was larger than one of the skyscrapers, and Trexor wondered what went through the occupants' minds as they plummeted downwards towards certain death; he couldn't imagine it.
Trem picked up a loose brick and tossed it down the chasm. It bounced off the side and cracked in two, but neither made another sound as they fell. “Damn, that could go right down, for all we know.”
“Could do, yeah.” Out of the corner of his eye, Trexor saw something move. “What was that?” Trexor drew his pistol.
Trem looked around. “What was what?”
“Something, over there. Moved.” Trexor edged round the chasm towards where he saw the movement. “Something silver.”
“Silver?” Trem sounded puzzled. “You sure?”
“Positive. Look.” Trexor pointed at it as it came back into view.
The thing stood on four legs and seemed to have a feline body-shape, minus the tail. All of its features were minimalist; only a sleek silver skin was note-worthy. No markings of any sort. Even the head was bare, consisting of a curved wedge shape without ears, eyes or nose.
“What is it?” Trem asked, his voice wavering.
Trexor looked at him, briefly satisfied hearing the fear in his former enemy's voice. “I have no idea. Maybe the Xaosians planted it here?”
“It does seem rather mechanical,” Trem conceded, “But there's something...off about it. Let's move closer.”
They did so, Trexor clutching his pistol tightly while making sure not to make a sound. His feet tapped silently on the ground, and Trem seemed to float behind him, no sound escaping from his loose clothes or array of weapons.
Sensing something, the thing turned to face them. Its head split open, revealing teeth inside, with a gaping hole, which Trexor assumed was a throat; this seemed to be a threat. Trexor let loose a shot and the bullet got lodged in the thing's head. It paid the bullet no mind as the skin around folded over it, absorbing the bullet entirely.
“The hell?” Trem moved forward, but Trexor put a hand in the way to stop him.
The thing stared at them both for a beat, before it leapt into the chasm, sticking to the steep walls. As it ran downwards into Raan's core, others appeared from hiding spots behind buildings or under rubble, and followed the first downwards into the chasm.
Trexor moved back away from the gaping pit even as the things disappeared into the darkness below. “What are they?” he whispered, more to himself than to Trem, who didn't answer. “They don't seem dangerous though.”
Trem walked to the chasm and looked inwards. Trexor followed his lead, and all around the sides they could see the things descending.
“Wonder where they came from...” Trem voiced his thoughts aloud.
“Maybe they came from the Xaosians and are attacking Raan's core,” Trexor said slowly, “or they may be from the core and were disturbed by the Xaosians.”
“I hope it's the latter.”
“I hope it's neither.” Trexor said, still hoping that this whole thing was just a nightmare. But he knew it wasn't.
Chapter 25
Foton 4
Even the air tasted funny on Prauw.
Shortly after Foton's escape pod was intercepted by a Prauwn aerospace squad, he was back on home-turf under the pseudonym Lyss Fown; just one of a number of aliases he had u
sed in the past on his various “missions”. Despite it being his homeworld, Foton had never missed Prauw. Due to the industrialisation of the world, and its prolonged inability to work with enviro-friendly materials and sources, everything was sepia-tinged due to the brown smoked which lined every street. Alleys were a no-go to any well-doing citizen; anyone going down an alley was almost certainly up to something; they were the only places to do crime. Even now, Foton could see finger-like cameras swivelling around to observe the anonymous masses. One lingered on him as he stared at it, before moving on. Foton grimaced; it wasn't just the police watching the cameras, and he wanted to be on Prauw just a bit longer before they noticed him.
The face-recognition AI that the Assassins used was possibly the most accurate of its kind; the Assassins knew the tricks people used to hide from the standard FR software and programmed countermeasures into this AI. However, the AI was not only used for FR; it was also used by the Assassin's leader to hack into the Empire Network to locate targets and give the Assassins an advantage in the field.
After seeing the camera, Foton knew that they would be on him soon. He wasn't sure how he would be welcomed back; the Assassins were not known for their forgiveness. Looking around, he noticed no-one watching. After one last check, he ducked into the next alley and waited. There was only a dull light, but Foton decided to check his weapons. One of his hidden diamond blades was still intact, but the other was shattered, leaving only a jagged edge behind. Foton shuddered at the thought of encountering Otor again; that Adjeti gave him a run for his money. He hoped that Otor was delusional and really was the last of his kind; he would hate to take on more than one. Thinking of Otor only reminded Foton of Devilclash; he was almost certain she would be fine. Pyrkagia were immortal, after all.
A small flurry of movement caught his eye and he turned to see a man, clad head to toe in black, stand up. “Foton.” He bowed his head; a sign of respect, which Foton copied; obviously they weren't too hostile towards him. “It's been a while.”
Foton recognised the voice. “B'yon? Is that you?”
The man peeled his hood back to reveal the tan-skinned B'yon beneath; hailing from K'hrak, his skin was naturally thicker and eyes larger than other humans'. “Glad you didn't forget me, friend.” He extended a hand towards Foton, who looked at it suspiciously. B'yon withdrew the hand while saying, “We don't want you dead, y'know? The leader just wants to talk, and find a way for you to redeem yourself.”
Foton tutted quietly; it was his mission to Buun that had screwed him over. He had just killed his target when three Pyrkagia rushed at him. He managed to lose them and escape Buun, before leaving the Assassins behind, leaving naught but a message for the leader. “That sounds fair,” Foton agreed, “but I came here to recruit your efforts in the war.”
“Maybe he'll consider it,” B'yon led Foton out of the alley, “But you'll probably have to do something major before he even considers helping the war effort.” He pulled a cylinder out of his pocket, which shone a bright red beam of light into the sky; a cab-hailer.
“I hoped that he may see the seriousness of the situation.” A cab landed near to them, descending from the smog-filled skies. As they climbed in, B'yon passed a card with an address written on to the driver, who nodded, and input it into the cab's nav-screen; the driver was only really there as a mediator between the nav-screen and the passengers, as the cab drove itself. It lifted off into the brown sky.
“Unlikely,” B'yon took the address card back, before leaning back in the seat, “we're not called a secret society for nothing; most of the Empire do not even know we exist. By helping the fight, the secret will be blown right open.”
Foton cursed under his breath; he had forgotten how stubborn the leader was. The cab continued its silent quest until it vanished into a thicker, darker wave of brown; the industrial district. Prauw was known for its manufacturing of vehicles and small devices, in the same way that Xaos is known for its production of military engineering. All factories should be fully manned and operational as huge machines, controlled and maintained by a small fleet of people, build the wonders of aerospace travel from scratch. The cab began to descend again, and the ground became visible once more. B'yon paid the driver, leaving a tip in exchange for his silence, before following Foton out.
Both ground and air were different here. The ground was harder and the air thicker than it was in the city. B'yon went to the nearest factory and placed his palm on a small panel. A laser ran over it, scanning DNA, shape and heartbeat to ensure that it truly was B'yon. A small door opened to the left of him as the laser vanished. “Come on.” B'yon beckoned Foton over.
“What happened to the house?” Foton asked, looking around the empty factory.
“Raided.” Before the factory, the Assassins headquarters was just an old house in the slums of Munau, the capital city.
“B'yon.” A hooded man approached them. “You bring Foton back with you. Interesting.”
The leader of the Assassins stood before them, hunched over like an old man. But looks were deceiving, as were titles; he was known as the Blind Assassin, and rightly so. But he made up for his lack of eyes with both his combat and computing skills; he developed the Assassin's AI for himself, so that he could hack any electronic equipment around him, and use them to “see” his surroundings through a machine, which sat where his eyes should be, wired directly into his brain.
“My lord.” Foton knelt before his leader. “I have come to rejoin the order. On one condition: we help the war effort against the Xaosians.”
“Get up.” The Blind Assassin gestured with his chin for Foton to stand. “And what can we do in a war? Kill Xaos? The generals? Perhaps that would help. Perhaps.” He moved towards Foton, his movements seeming oddly mechanical. “We can help. You can rejoin. On one condition. One mission.”
Foton sighed; he knew it would come down to this. “What's the mission?”
“Just a simple death.” From under his cloak, the Blind Assassin pulled out a small cube, no bigger than the palm of Foton's hand. “And to plant this at the scene.”
“Why?” Foton took the cube and examined it briefly.
“We do not ask questions.” B'yon intervened. “We don't need to. We get the job done.”
“Do you accept?” The Blind Assassin's voice rang with an ominous tone.
Foton thought about it for a second. “Yes. I do.”
Chapter 26
Tors 4
Tors had never been off of Narcsia before, let alone in the nauseating embrace of L-Drive travel. He sat in a corner and held his head in his hands as an invisible blade twisted in his brain, only vaguely hearing Pandora telling him that people get used to L-Drive after the first couple of flights. Usually, he would find some sort of witty response, but he could hardly think with this throbbing pain.
“Damn man, you look terrible.”
Tors looked up to see a human standing over him. He didn't wear any uniform, so Tors assumed that he must have been just one of Narcsia's large migrant population. “Thanks for that, buddy.” Tors murmured. “I hadn't realised.”
The man reached into his pocket and took out a sheet of tablets, with one empty holder. “Here. This'll help you out.” He smiled and proffered a tablet to Tors, who looked at it suspiciously. “They're fine, I get all queasy in L-Drive too.”
Head thudding, Tors was desperate for it to stop and abandoned his suspicions for a cure. Swallowing the tablet, he felt it dissolve inside of him, releasing a foul taste which made him cough. He coughed again and again, before he thumped himself in the chest and caught his breath. Looking up at the man, he extended a hand; the pain had gone. “Thanks man. Tors.”
The man took the hand. “No problem. Cane.”
“Mind if I ask where you're from?” Tors's curiosity crawled back to the surface.
“Raan.” Cane nodded. “Got a wife and kid there, those damned storms made it impossible for me to get back there.”
Remembering th
e storms, Tors shuddered; those things were still out there. Putting that aside for the moment, Tors now realised why Cane seemed so enthusiastic. “Must be nice knowing where you're going next.”
“Yeah man, but I'd like an adventure again. It's not the same when you got a kid.” Cane winked. “Take my advice; go on one while you can.”
“You made a friend, Tors?” Emola entered their small cabin along with Pandora. “Unusual.”
Pandora chuckled, before punching his arm. “Don't be mean.” Her hair extended towards Cane. “Nice to meet you.”
Cane put his head forward, and Pandora's tangled with his, before separating. “Haven't done the Trasmen greeting for a while; don't see many around.” He raised a hand to Emola. “You and Tors must be friends.”
“Emola.” Tors gestured to him. “And Pandora. This is Cane.”
“So, where are they dumping you guys?” Cane asked.
“I don't know.” Emola said, his scales growing darker as his annoyance showed. “They never told us anything. Probably dump a load of us off at various spaceports. Don't know after that.”
“Well, I'm going back to Tras, you're welcome to join me.” Pandora seemed sincere.
“Can't believe we hadn't talked about this before...” Emola trailed off.
“You could go on a tour of the Empire.” Cane suggested. “I did the same about five years ago, it was grand.”
Tors looked at Pandora. “Yeah, maybe we should.”
Pandora shook her head slightly. “I don't know Tors, I just want to go home.”
A squeal of feedback halted the conversation. Tors looked at the small black speaker in the top right corner of the cabin. The squeal stopped, and a screen flicked on showing naught but static.
“Some sort of power surge?” Emola asked.
“They've found us!” Tors yelled. “The winds!”
Pandora slapped Tors. “Of course not, you idiot! Now get a hold of yourself!”
Tors calmed down, but his heart still pounded. “You're right; no gas in space. It's a vacuum.”
“Not a power surge though.” Cane said, looking at Tors with his brow furrowed. Tors looked out of the cabin window and saw three other ships in the nine-ship fleet. Nothing unusual.
Then an image came on the screen. Blurry at first, before it became clear.