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electrospherevaults · 4 months

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Defiler - Chapter 25

[Click here to read the rest of the Defiler story]

Wound, Part II

[ESTABLISHING LINK...] [....................000%] [///.................016%] [////////............044%] [/////////...........045%] [///////////.........056%] [/////////////////...088%] [////////////////////100%] [LINK COMPLETE]

[OPERATION: WOUND SYSTEM: -BLANK- PLANET: EONOV JURISDICTION: INDEPENDENT A.O.E: NORTHERN HEMISPHERE, SPACE ABOVE PLANET DANGER LEVEL: CRITICAL STATUS: INITIATING]

[LINK WITH 301ST PROLITHE TACTICAL WING SQUADRON – CALLSIGN “GAUNTLE”, ESTABLISHED.]

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << Gauntle 1 to all Gauntle wings, check in. >>

Gauntle 2 - Bronze << Gauntle 2, on standby. >>

Gauntle 3 << Gauntle 3, on standby. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Tinker, on standby! >>

Gauntle 3 << Gauntle 4... >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Ah, sorry Jerry! Gauntle 4, on standby! >>

Gauntle 5 – Golden Boy << Gauntle 5, on standby! >>

Gauntle 6 – Malaise << Gauntle 6, standing by! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Gauntle 7, on stand-by. >>

Gauntle 8 – Spanner << Gauntle 8, standby. >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << All checks complete. Look alive folks – we’ll be joining with the 877th Jardinista Tactical Fighter Squadron, callsign Jaune. Don’t embarrass me in front of our enemies. >>

Gauntle 3 << Roger that, Gauntle Leader. >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << And Renard? Try not to be such an uptight ass. >>

Gauntle 3 << Can’t do that, Gauntle Leader. >>

[ERROR: MULTIPLE CONCURRENT COMMUNICATIONS LINKS ACTIVE]

Gauntle 2 – Bronze << A’ight, ev’ryone cut the chatter. We closin’ in with Zaune. >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << Look sharp, Gauntle! Tinker, link us up. >>

[ESTABLISHING LINK...] [....................000%] [/////////////////...089%] [////////////////////100%] [LINK WITH 877TH JARDINISTA TACTICAL FIGHTER SQUADRON – CALLSIGN “JAUNE”, ESTABLISHED.]

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << That was fast! >>

Gauntle 5 – Golden Boy << Yeah, you’d figure it’d take longer, being- >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << This is Lieutenant [STATIC]. The Jaune Squadron will be flying with you today. >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << You are speaking with Captain Perrault, Gauntle Squadron Leader. Gauntle-301 accepts. >>

Jaune 1 - [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << Gauntle, huh? A fine Scythian name indeed! I assume you have been briefed on the revised assault plan? >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << What revised assault plan? >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << We got an escort mission on top of everything else. >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << An escort mission? >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << Mhmm. The powers that be decided the classic five-way thrust assault is not enough. Even if it worked wonders against the starchildren a hundred years ago. >>

Gauntle 2 – Bronze << So what’re we escorting? >>

Jaune 2 – Gigi << Precious cargo. Boarding parties. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << We’re boarding the planet-killer?! >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << Indeed... Uh, I guess I’ll call you Tinker, since that’s what showing up on my comms. I only hope it works for us too. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << If I may be so bold, capitan- >>

Jaune 3 – Orphan << Monkey, no. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << The plan still seems way too risky to me. We got a tried and true battle formation, which is proven to work. What is different now? >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] <>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << All I’m saying- >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Wait, I recognize this voice. Luc? >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Jean-Michel? Is that you?! >>

Jaune 2 – Gigi << Oh great, now there’s two of them. >>

[PRIVATE COMMUNICATIONS CHANNEL ESTABLISHED]

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Holy shit, Jean-Michel! Didn’t expect to come across you here of all places! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Life plays riddles like that sometimes! How’s the cosmonaut life been treating you, Luc? >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Pretty good! I’ve seen the cosmos, and now I’m about to destroy it, evidently! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Heh. Or board it more like. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Hah, for real! Man, we have so much to talk about! I should buy you a beer after all this is over! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << You know I only drink sparkled wine, Luc! >>

** Laughs ** << Think you got enough in your pocket to buy me some? >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Haha, fuck you, of course I do! What, you think us Jardinistas just roll in the mud all day? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << A little. Then, you get in your rockets to play soldiers! >> ** Laughs **

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Ha-ha, fuck you, you prick! >> ** Laughs **

<< ... >> << Listen. About mom- >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Don’t. >> << We’ll mourn the dead later, whilst us wounded still fight. >>

Jaune 5 - Monkey << ... >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << We should get back to the briefing. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Jean-Michel wait! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << What, Luc? >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << ...I’m glad you’re still alive. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << You too, Luc. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Promise me you’ll stay alive, Jean-Michel. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <>

Jaune 5 – Monkey <>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << ...I’ll try. And I want you to do the same, Luc. >>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << Wilco. >> << ... >> <>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Heh, right. >> << Just like back home. >>

[PRIVATE COMMUNICATIONS CHANNEL TERMINATED]

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << Look alive, Gauntle! Jaune is taking the lead, we’re passing through Jardinista space. Keep your fingers off your triggers – let’s not start a three-way fight now! >>

Jaune 2 – Gigi <>

Jaune 5 – Monkey << You mean a fight right? >> << ... >> << Right? >>

Jaune 2 – Gigi << You are embarrassing me, Monkey, and you’ll pay for it dearly. >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << What have I told you two about the comms channels? For crying out loud! >>

Gauntle 5 – Golden Boy << And I thought Tinker would embarrass us! >>

Gauntle 2 – Bronze <>

Jaune 3 – Orphan << I’ve not seen so many since the invasion of Ferrener. >>

Jaune 2 – Gigi << Pray it doesn’t go the same way, Orphan. >>

Gauntle 3 <>

Gauntle 2 – Bronze <>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry <>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << Think the plan will be cancelled? >>

Gauntle 1 – Jerry << Hell no. Too much fuel has been spent. This is a gamble, and we’re the chips. We’ll roll with the dice. >>

Jaune 1 – [ERROR; CALLSIGN CANNOT BE LOADED] << Hm. May the dice be in our favour then. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Gauntle Leader, I see it! I see the starchild! It... >> << Oh gods. >> << It is

Enormous.

[COMMUNICATIONS LOST.]

[RE-ESTABLISHING CONNECTION]

[....................................................................] [CONNECTION TIMED OUT]

[RE-ESTABLISHING CONNECTION]

[..............]

[CONNECTION RE-ESTABLISHED]

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[RETRY TRANSMISSION?] > Yes No

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[OPERATION: WOUND SYSTEM: -BLANK- PLANET: EONOV JURISDICTION: INDEPENDENT A.O.E: NORTHERN HEMISPHERE, SPACE ABOVE PLANET DANGER LEVEL: CRITICAL STATUS: UNDERWAY]

[LINK WITH 301ST PROLITHE TACTICAL WING SQUADRON – CALLSIGN “GAUNTLE”, RE-ESTABLISHED.]

Gauntle 3 << Sound off! Who’s still alive?! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Gauntle 7, regrouping. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Gauntle 4, wounded but still kicking! >>

Gauntle 3 << How wounded? >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << I, uhhhh, have lost engine 2. 3 is leaking oil – maybe misfire. I’ll reboot just to be sure. >>

Gauntle 7 - Wrench << Anyone else? >>

Gauntle 3 <>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Engine 3 back online! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << What happened to Jaune Squadron? >>

Gauntle 3 <>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Any survivors? >>

Gauntle 3 << Nothing on my radar. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << ... >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << I’m sorry Wrench. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Gauntle 3, think we can get back into action? >>

Gauntle 3 << Our squadron has lost 70% of our fighting capabilities, possibly more given that misfire on Gauntle 4. I think it’d be better to disengage. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << How’s it looking on the rest of the battlefield? >>

Gauntle 3 << Pretty fucking bad, Gauntle 7. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Figures. >>

I got you now.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << What do you mean “you got me now?” >>

Gauntle 3 << Huh? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Thought one of you two talked to me on private comms. >>

Gauntle 3 << Nope. No privacy enabled. Just the usual radio chatter. >>

Your name is Jean-Michel du Rembrandt, isn’t it? I will need your help.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Who are you? >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Wrench, you alright man? >>

Born in Scythia, raised on southern Gaulloiserie… Holy Maker, your world is beautiful! I’ve never seen so much greenery before! I’ve had seen your banners, and your masks, and always thought Scythia was a land of volcanoes and ash. So the Maker wasn’t putting up illusions after all…

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Tinker, perform an analysis on my comms; I might be compromised. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Wilco, gimme a sec! >> << ... >> << All systems nominal, Wrench! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Ugh. Think it might be that Starchild messing with us? >>

Gauntle 3 <>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << I-

I’m fine. Just radio chatter messing up my rhythm. I’ll deal with it.

Gauntle 3 << Aaaaaaalright. Look alive, Jean-Michel. >>

I will need your help, Jean-Michel. It is a big request, however,

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << W-will do, Gauntle 3. >>

Do not be alarmed. We will speak in private – and face to face – from now on.

Jean-Michel << Who the hel- >> << W-where am I? >>

This is a safebox we’re in. Time is immobile. Space is immaterial. It is only you and me in here. Nothing can reach us, nothing can harm us, and we got time to discuss the battle lying ahead. The battle against the Maker. He is wounded now; I incapacitated Him, but I don’t know for how long. So, I am looking to find a way to kill Him.

But I first want to apologize for your friends. Believe me, I did not want things to go this way. But things are very fucked up, as you can tell.

Jean-Michel <>

You are being pretentious. I am no god. My name is Mallik. I am a ratlung from Tabora, the planet below whose god now awakened, and whose god you’ve come to take over.

Jean-Michel << So this starchild is... your god? >>

Used to be. My mother used to believe in Him. My grandmother too.

He killed them both.

Jean-Michel <>

I am well aware, Jean-Michel. I am sorry I could not save your brother. Timespace is tricky; I know it’s of little consolation to you now, but god damn it I tried! Believe me.

Jean-Michel << ...It’s fine. >> << It’s clear you got a lot on your plate, and you’re only just getting used to things. Not every day your god turns out to be real and shares their powers with you personally, only to then betray you, I hazard. >> << But, still, I got to ask you: >> << Why should I trust you? What do you need a random scythian cosmonaut like me for? >> << ... >> << Your abilities far surpass mine – and I’m not even a high ranking officer or anything of sorts. I cannot command, I cannot lead. I am just your typical spaceboy, like you said earlier. It baffles me, if I may be frank with you, ma’am. >>

When I was a kid, I dreamed to fly. I tried to join the academies in the Strip. And each and every time, I would surely be rejected. Heh. Funny thing that.

Jean-Michel << Heh. Didn’t think you had aspirations to be a spaceboy too. >> << Or spacegirl more like. >>

What can I say? Flying is cool. Space is cooler. Your lot may be jerks, but you got skills; the likes of which would make any girl red with envy.

Jean-Michel << Well, I don’t know if I’d call us all jerks, but- >>

Oh, believe me, once you’ve passed by the academy enough times and had so many spaceboys leer at you and whistle, or seen the pros on their off days get so rowdy in front of a ratlung outside the bars and in cruise trips, it is hard to shake off that kind of notoriety away.

Jean-Michel << ... >> << That is horrible. On behalf of the cosmonaut corps, I am deeply sorry for my colleagues. >>

Don’t be. Like I said – flying is cool, and space is cooler. You got the skills, and that is why I need you, Jean-Michel: You fly well. Exceptionally well, may I add. I’ve been pouring over this battle for the past couple hours – how many it’s been, I am uncertain – but, you are the one most capable of pulling it off.

Jean-Michel << Wait, hours? It can’t have been that long, has it? I need to- >>

Spacetime, Jean-Michel. It works differently. The battle lasts exactly twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds in real time. From the time the first bullet rings out to the time the last vessel is struck down.

And it always ends with a graveyard that surrounds a planet cracked in half; another of His “miracles” that He escapes with a black hole He creates.

And I am not letting that happen.

I will need your help in this doomed battle, because the outcome will decide how many will live. On my planet, in your fleet, across the Kingdom whole. Your King, however, will not live to see any of these outcomes. You have a chance to save the Kingdom, Jean-Michel.

But for that, you will need to sacrifice yourself.

Are you willing to die for your King, cosmonaut?

Jean-Michel << Yes ma’am. >>

Okay, don’t “Yes ma’am” me, spaceboy; this is actual life-and-death we are talking about! No intrigues, no fancy fights. No fancy funerals or honours. Drop your soldiering and ask yourself – do I want to die for a man I’ve never met, a man who’ll never remember my name?

Are you truly willing to die for your King, cosmonaut?

Jean-Michel << ... >> << ...Yes. >> << I am a royal cosmonaut from the Scythian Republics, in willing service of King Arcuturus and the Kingdom of Solaria. But above all, I serve Scythia, and her prosperity relies on the prosperity of the Kingdom itself. You said the King will die, but his Kingdom will carry on, correct? Then I am willing to die in his name. >> << Is that a good enough answer for you, Mallik? >>

Very. You are brave, Jean-Michel. I am sorry you have to die.

Jean-Michel << It’s not death, ma’am. We can mourn the dead later, whilst us wounded still fight. >>

You may not see it, but I am smiling at you right now. I hope I can find a way to save you.

Now, here’s my plan, Jean-Michel. Follow it, and we might have a chance. All I ask is that you place your trust in me.

Please.

[SYSTEM REBOOT] [RE-ESTABLISHING TRANSMISSION] [....................000%] [/////////...........048%] [/////////////.......067%] [////////////////////100%] [TRANSMISSION COMPLETE] [LINK WITH GAUNTLE SQUADRON RE-ESTABLISHED]

Gauntle 3 << JEAN-MICHEL, DO YOU COPY? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Huh? >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Oh hey! He’s alive! >>

Gauntle 3 << Gauntle 7, you missed your fucking check in. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Ah, shit. Sorry. Gauntle 7, standing by. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Better late than never! >>

Gauntle 3 << Better late than dead too. It’s been five minutes. I timed it. >> << Nevermind all that now though, we are to re-enter the battlespace. We are losing badly, they need as many hands as they can get. We’ll fly a 3-wing delta formation, Gauntle 7 I need you on my left. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Roger that, Gauntle 3. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Hey, Renard. How does it feel to be a squadron leader finally? >>

Gauntle 3 << Anxiety-inducing, what with you two on-board. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << You wouldn’t want it any other way. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Feisty now after your powernap, huh? >>

Gauntle 3 << Shut up, both of you. >> << Golden Throne, Gauntle is seeking to re-engage. Give us targets. >>

BATTLESHIP-CARRIER Prolithe – Golden Throne << ... >>

Gauntle 3 << Golden Throne, do you copy? >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Comms look dead to- WATCH OUT! >>

[INTERFERENCE. MINIMIZING VOLUME. NOISE ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS: - Fire - Explosions - Scattered desperate shouting - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Death - Deat NOISE DELETED. COMMUNICATIONS RE-ESTABLISHED.]

Gauntle 3 << ... >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker <> << Renard, where to? >>

Gauntle 3 << ... >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Guess it’s time for his- >>

Gauntle 3 << We are not escaping this battlefield alive, are we? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << We’re not. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Hey, hey, hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves! >> << Things are looking pretty fucking dire, but it ain’t over yet! Remember Ferrener? Now that was a clusterfuck – and we made it! >> << So, you know, don’t fucking panic, okay? >> << Now – where to, Gauntle 3? >>

Gauntle 3 << ... >> <>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << YOU got a plan? >>

Gauntle 3 << What is it, Gauntle 7? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << On our pass earlier, when we skirted close to the planet-killer, any of you noticed these holes on the surface? >>

Gauntle 3 << I’ve noticed chunks of the structure blown off, but... >> << Tendrils reached from within to pick those chunks back; they put the starchild back together. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Yeah. I thought all the ordinance our fleet had been throwing at it after it blew up the transport ships would do some damage. I... >> << Seriously, how did this formation work a hundred years ago? Just spray and pray it’s dead before you’re out of ammo? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << You wouldn’t be far off the mark I’d hazard. >> << Either way, I’ve noticed the hull has holes. The starchild cannot patch itself up fully – it is taking too much damage. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << What are you implying, Wrench? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << We fly in, blow it up from the inside. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << And be back home for dinner? That’s insane, I’m checking your life support levels. >>

Gauntle 3 << It might work. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Okay, I am checking yours too then! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << What other option is out there? >> << Given how much everything is being decimated out here, this might be our only chance at saving the fleet. At saving the King even! >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Wait, King Arcuturus is present? >>

Gauntle 3 << You should really start paying attention to briefing, Gauntle 4. >> << Gauntle 7, how sure are you about getting us to one of the holes in the starchild’s structure? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Pretty damn sure, Gauntle 3. >>

Gauntle 3 << Gauntle 7, take point. I’ll follow your lead. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << You lot are insane. UGH! Fine! Wrench, I’m right behind you! >> << Not like I was planning to make it to Jensen’s barbeque next Sunday. Prolithe is destroyed anyway. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Use the debris as cover. We must not let the starchild see us. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << If this thing pops real damn eyes next, I’m straight up quitting the force. I want you both to know that. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Alright then, I won’t tell you anything. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << ...For real?! >>

Gauntle 3 << Easy does it, Gauntle 4. Focus on your flying. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Yeah but- >> << Tendrils! 7 o’ clock high! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Evade, evade, evade! >>

Gauntle 3 <>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Renard! >> << UGH! SHIT! FUCK! >>

Gauntle 3 << Gauntle 4, are you okay?! >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Uh, shit, Jean-Michel, perform one of your scans, please? >> << ... >> << Please, tell me good news? >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Holy hell, how is your cockpit not cracked still? >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << This is not encouraging, buddy ol’ pal!!! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <> << ... >> << It’s not good, Bernice. >>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Hey, quick question? What the FUCK does that mean? >>

Gauntle 3 << Your wreckage is picking up speed, Gauntle 4. You will be out of comms range soon. >> << ... >> <>

Gauntle 4 – Tinker << Hey Renard? Fuck you, come save me! >> << Please! >> << ... >> << Please. >> << Please, I do not want to die. >> << Not here. Not like this. >> << At least shoot me dead! Come on!!! Can’t you spare a missile?! >> << Please don’t let me die! >> << Renard! Jean-Michel! >> << PLEASE! >> << ANSWER, YOU FUCKS! >> <>

[COMMUNICATIONS LOST.]

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <> << ... >> << We got to carry on. >> << You okay, Renard? >>

Gauntle 3 << No. But we’re pressing on regardless. Jean-Michel, I’ll keep following your lead. >> << Don’t get me killed. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Wilco. >>

On your approach, remember – the Maker has many eyes, but he still remains blind.

A blind man feels. But when surrounded by water, a droplet does not register.

Fly into the tunnels. You will dance with your fate there.

Gauntle 3 << Uh... This is not looking safe, Jean-Michel. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Trust me, Renard. >>

And be silent. You cannot let Him hear you.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << And be quiet! Don’t let Him hear you. >>

Gauntle 3 << Him? You mean the- >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << What did I just say, Renard?! >>

Gauntle 3 << Apologies. Going dark. >>

His weakness is his size. An ego the size of a planet. A man toying with fates of countless beings, all of them at his fingertips.

You will strike beneath him, aiming straight for the gaps where he breathes.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << There! The pulsating veins! >>

Gauntle 3 << Jean-Michel, this thing is alive. >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Aim for His veins, Renard! Make Him bleed! >>

Gauntle 3 << With pleasure. >> << Fox Two. >> << ... >>

<< Direct hi- >>

[ERROR. MULTIPLE CONCURRENT NOISE SIGNALS ACTIVE.]

[RE-ESTABLISHING COMMUNICATION LINKS.]

[ADJUSTING VOLUME LEVELS.]

Gauntle 3 << What the fuck was that?! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Reloading laser canons! >>

Gauntle 3 <> << I’m heading for a second run! Cover me! >>

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Roger that, Renard! >> << Wrench, firing laser! >>

Mallik. What have you done?

Putting you back to sleep.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Direct hit! It’s coming off! >>

It is not over. It is far from over. Even as these two mosquitoes make my body bleed, it will not be enough to destroy me. You will need a lot more to make my body flood, and even if it does, these attacks are not enough to stop what you began. And I think you know it. Maybe I am not the sole defiler here.

Maybe you’re not.

But I think you misunderstand intentions.

Gauntle 3 << Jean-Michel, it’s shaking! >>

And you misjudge the ways your own body can betray you.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Good, it’s working! We’re near! >>

Gauntle 3 << Keep firing! Keep fir- >>

[COMMUNICATIONS LOST.]

As do you.

Fuck!

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Renard? >> << RENARD! >> << NO! >> << Ah shi- >>

[COMMUNICATIONS LOST.]

This isn’t over yet!

Of course it isn’t, Mallik. I will simply encircle you like before, like a snake awaiting for this tiny little rat to panic and keel over. The strike is certain, and I will keep ascending beyond these confines. You cannot put an end to destiny. I have to patch myself up. I will be back for you, Mallik. Once I find you.

Fuck you.

Jean-Michel.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << M-Mallik? >>

I am sorry for the pain. How are you holding up?

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << My ship is sliced in half, and I have a rod that has pierced my guts. I... I should be dead. Why am I not- >>

I’m trying to keep you alive. And I am doing the same with your ship. Sadly, He woke up sooner than we expected. And we got no time to lose now.

Genuinely, I am sorry. I am sorry for making you suffer. I am no better than Him…

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Don’t w-worry about it, ma’am. I appreciate the concerns. But we still got a fight to finish. >> << All engines are busted – yet they work at full capacity. You are carrying me, correct? >>

You will need to hit both of these bones at once. The interconnecting rods. It’s the spine that holds Him in place. With it gone…

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << He will fall. >> <>

You already have it.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench <> << ... >> << Will Scythia survive, Mallik? Will He be stopped? >>

It will. I will stop Him.

And I want to thank you once again, Jean-Michel.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Don’t mention it. Just make sure your god dies and I won’t haunt you from the afterlife. >>

Heh. Sounds like a plan.

I will leave you to prepare.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << Mallik. One last thing. >>

Yes?

Gauntle 7 – Wrench << You’ve seen beyond. Into... What comes after. >> << ... >> << Is there anything you saw? >>

An endless galaxy of stars. And we dance right alongside them. We pick our favourites. Each one a memory, a thought, a feeling. And it is peaceful. Quiet. Serene.

You will be alright, Jean-Michel, I can promise you this much.

Gauntle 7 – Wrench Jean-Michel << Thank you for your answer, Mallik. Gauntle 7, signing out. >> << ... >> ** Breathe In ** ** Breathe Out ** ** Cough ** << Luc. You damn bastard. I’ll pester you in a bit. >> << ... >> << Approaching gun range. Switching all power to weapons. Bypassing overheat overrides. >> << ... >> << Never thought the cockpit could get so toasty. Heh. >> <> << ... >> << Mother, I think you would be proud of him. He may had been an enemy. But he fought with valour. >>

<< Mother. I did my best. See you soon. >>

[COMMUNICATIONS LOST.]

See you, spaceboy.

#defiler #my writing #nanowrimo 2021 #nanowrimo wip #original fiction #sci fi

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electrospherevaults · 4 months

Text

Defiler - Chapter 27

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Forget Me Not, Shattered One

Oh Holy Maker,

blessed be Your sands

for I walk on You,

blessed be Your sun

for I walk under You,

blessed be Your earth

for I walk with You.

Today I visit You

to pay respects

to the world You…

the world You…

They say creation is followed by destruction, and destruction begets creation. That the two are the two sides of the same coin. And it’s true – I am your creation, as much as I am the result of your destruction. You tore everything up in order to build it all over again, and you built a world that was to be everything to us; a nourishing god in seas of aridity. A beacon of hope amidst obliteration. A Maker of Living where Death stood.

It’s weird to realize I would not exist had it not been for all the death that came before me.

Granny Jasmin had a prayer she once taught me. She taught me lots of prayers, of course; she was that kinda person, a true believer as ones would call her. But when I was young, and when I’d stand outside, by the canopy of our tent, staring longingly at the horizon, witnessing where You stood and trying to see how long I could last before my eyes started hurting, this prayer made me believe that I too was destined to be a defiler like her. I did not know what words meant back then, and I never realized how awful a meaning our word carried. But to me all it meant was that I too could reach for you, to become greater than the woman I felt destined to become. She possessed the same kindness I believed you held for us.

I believed you. I believed you to nourish us into who we are. To protect us from harm, even if we were spat upon, trampled down, taken away and separated. Your deserts welcomed us, where everyone else sought to use us and abuse us.

But really, you were no different than them. Our namesake was, in the end, very apt. Because I cannot give you the satisfaction of a happy ending, Maker.

And for that, as much as you created me, so much I will destroy you.

Forget Me Not, Shattered One

............three of them crossed the threshold again, stepping back onto where they once were before. Room well-kept and shiny and beige-white, as it was left. And by the wall, next to a bench, Zysso, Jaksy and Friga stood, still terrified of where their friends had been going, as they passed a door on the opposite wall. The door closed, and any traces of its existence went away with it.

“Oh,” Zysso commented, “so you just teleported?”

“What do you mean?” Amateracci asked, confused.

“You left through this door,” Friga pointed out, “just seconds ago! And now you’re here!”

Time passes differently around here.

They all turned around at the sound of…

“You should not have been-“

Bang.

Heh, didn’t expect a finger gun to actually work.

This wasn’t meant to happen, Mallik.

I know.

What are you doing out here? You’re scaring them.

I don’t think I am. Can’t you see, Maker? They are hugging me right now. They got tears on their faces, crying tears of joy. Why would they cry so much in relief if Your machine was indeed the guide they sought? Instead, the machine was who had been scaring them; obeying out of fear, knowing already the vicious fight that awaited should they pick up their guns again like before, with foes that remained undefeated until they left arbitrarily for seemingly no reason at all.

But we both know what the reasoning was. This subjugation worked, and they followed down the path you laid. Willingly.

Until now.

Because, in the end Holy Maker, I am who they had been looking for this entire time. Their faces betray that. They are full of joy, of elation, and of relief, and they each hug me tight and close, with kisses on the cheeks and on the foreheads, as you taught us to be our customs.

It is the display of the most base emotion we all possess, Holy Maker. Love.

The likes of which you only witness after the darkest moments of your life are put to rest. Even, if momentarily. Even, if a small relief.

I thought you would be happy for them? Isn’t that what you had in mind for your main cast after all, dear Maker?

…Yes, that is right.

Then, what is your issue?

It is not how I had planned for it to be carried out.

Narratives are rarely so static and stagnant, don’t you find?

No, they are not. Yet, they possess rules. Guidelines. Definitions. A narrative is a fickle thing, as you should know by now – because I cannot see any other reason for you to be dillydallying around, shooting people dead, without expecting consequences to rear up at the next turn of the tale. At least, you seem to know a lot more now, Mallik – or should I call you by your true name?

Tabora? You do insist upon this name for me. I never got to ask you why.

Curious. Then maybe you do not know as much as you claim to know.

I never claimed anything. You are the one in charge of this grand narrative you try to weave.

And I am just a child, running with scissors.

Tabora, cut it out already! What are you…

…why…

…I remember. You actually know a lot more.

And you’ve already tried to do a lot more. Pity; it will not work.

I will make it work.

How? You sent only but a single squadron inside of me, comprised of just three wings, one of whom was damaged; the same one did not even survive the trench run – did you mean to create narrative tension, or were you just being optimistic in how much gusto they possessed? Still, you thought three measly cosmonauts could knock on my door and then proceed to knock me off my feet. But I can simply swing my arm, clap my hands together, even bring down the rolled up newspaper depending on how annoyed and ferocious I am feeling about them – because they’re naught but tiny squishy bugs, and ones I already took care of the moment you let your guard down. As you bore witness.

A mosquito cannot kill God, Mallik.

Only revere, correct?

Correct. And bugs that come too close to the light they worship are burnt.

It is their nature to burn after all.

If it’s our nature to burn, why are you so eager to light up the matches?

I’ve seen the wreckages. I’ve felt their pain – of the three I handpicked, and of the nine thousand cosmonauts fighting You outside and inside, and of the twenty-seven million people down on the planet’s surface watching their homeworld collapse with not a signle clue why. I have felt their pain, and their grieving. I still fail to see what your goal is.

To weave tales, my child! Tales of my Daughter, of my Tabora, of OUR journey! I have told you so. Time and time and time upon time again. The narrative is but a light in the darkness that we traverse. Stories are what keep us alit.

And your story is special – I wouldn’t invite you if it was not, yet you keep trying to cut it down with the pair of scissors you possess for brains.

What use is a story if all it leads towards is suffering? What are you even trying to say amidst all this; you just use us for a plot you got no idea how to finish, other than with more death, more blood, more suffering! And all for what?!

You wanted me to be part of Your Narrative. To join you up in Your Heaven, to help weave Your Tales.

Did you ever bother to ask yourself how I felt about all this?

…No.

And don’t you find that wrong, you son of a bitch?

Also no.

Huh?!

“Mallik, are you okay?!”

They are calling for you by the way, Mallik. Your friends, the ones who you claim they love you. Don’t neglect them. Life is a precious thing that so easily can be taken away.

What are you…

No.

NO!

“NO!” she cried as the battle drew to a close. The walls, lavished in red, emblazed in chrome, decorated with burning holes, remained unshifted. The chromatic apparitions, the Astrids Lionelli and Amateracci had so much been taught about, were not going to stop, but there was only so much two trained maidens and a bunch of children could stop all at once. For now, however, there was respite from the onslaught. Mallik finally seemed to had snapped out of it, whatever it was that put her in this trance; her face red, her breathing laborious, her shock evident.

“Mallikka,” Lionelli said, grasping onto her right eyesocket, its contents missing as that enemy earlier had taken another swipe at her, even though she had blasted its arms and torso away with the rest of her clip. “Are. You. Okay?”

“I don’t think so,” Mallik replied, stifling a scream that punctured her lungs. ��He is trying to kill us!”

“Who?”

“The Maker, who the fuck else?!”

“That’s been evident for a while now,” Friga commented, no joy left to be found in her voice like usual; she was tending to the gnashing wound Jaksy suffered from in the altercation earlier. Purple streaks of jaldari blood soaked her shirt, running lines across the seams to her waist, and then falling below. The young jaldari herself was biting her lips; as much as it was true that these mighty warriors can withhold pain a thousand times more painful than you can possibly imagine, they too cry. She held her head down, trying to will the fate to continue, and to not concern her friends with what awaited her, or them by further extrapolation. Not like it was not in everyone’s mind.

“Where is Amateracci?” Mallik asked, as the second maiden could not be spotted anywhere. Then, her gaze steeled, her teeth grit. “Where is Zysso?”

Lionelli pointed down the hallway. Mallik shoved her out of the way, leaping practically with each step, claws drawn out, as she rushed to their side. Amateracci, holding onto her gun with her right hand, trying to pressure the wound on her good arm whilst the armour’s self-treatments kicked in, chuckled. Her green armour soaked in red and green. Cradled, in her arms, was the friend you made along the way, Mallik of Tabora.

“No…” Mallik fell to her knees. Zysso stared out into space from the holes in the walls that kept fading in and out, with each stray bullet that managed to connect with the structure.

Onto my body.

Galaxies of stars, twinkling amidst the explosions. A sight for sore eyes indeed. And his eyes were so very sore. He coughed weakly, drawing a breath that visibly hurt.

And he turned to look at you. A warm smile carved across his face.

“Hey, you’re still up!”

Mallik crouched, smiling back weakly, placing her hand gently across his cheek.

“Of course. But I let you fall down.”

“It was sudden, we had no time.” A cough, spittle mixed with some more blood. A punctured lung inside. You could sense it, even if the surface appeared pristine.

“Don’t blame yourself Mallik.”

But his requests would fall onto deaf ears.

“I’m sorry, Zysso.”

“You don’t got to be.”

“You’re dying.”

“Heh. Think my dad will be mad?”

“I will be too, you fucking dolt!”

A voice broke, a whimper badly withheld. He raised his arm from his wound and he held onto the hand you had been resting upon his face. The hands touched tenderly, quivering.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to fly, Mallik.”

Then the hand fell.

“Do not weep for this one, child. You will die a thousand deaths like his before you are finally laid to rest.”

Amateracci laid her hand on Mallik’s shoulder. Mallik, who now had Zysso’s blood on her hands, did not move. She only turned to look back at him, staring into eyes that no longer could meet hers. Then, those eyes closed, aided by Amateracci’s gentle movement. She put him gently on the ground, letting his body rest whilst his spirit wandered with the stars beyond the confines. She then wiped a tear off her own face, before she offered her good hand, now steady and functioning again, pumped full of anabolic and aided with what remained of the musculoskeletal system.

Zysso Lofr’atek passed away on a nameless planet on an unremarkable day. Son of a chairman who too would be forgotten by time. A cruel death for a child that only sought to traverse amidst the stars. The witnesses were few; Maidens Lionelli and Amateracci of Wrethella; Friga, daughter of Bellit, and Jaksy Krugason, defilers of the planet Eonov; and Mallik, daughter of Zenit, daughter of Jasmin the Defiant. His memory was to forever haunt whatever remained of their lives, stuck within a structure that simply offered no exit for anyone.

But Mallik had a plan. As she always did. And the plan was…

…you genuinely are that stunned?

I do not know why he grew to be so important to you – but I can save him, Mallik of Tabora.

I can save them all, if that is what you wish for your tale.

“What?” Mallik hastened laboriously, turning her head left and right. Once again, her friends were frozen in time, as if someone had pressed pause on the videotape, and-

“For FUCK’S sake, cut it with the prose!”

She stood up. She wiped the tears off her face, blood smearing the edges in their place.

“What do you want of me?”

You know what I-

Say it.

To abandon your name.

You are Tabora.

I am Mallik.

You will lose him if you remain Mallik.

You will save him if you embrace Tabora.

Fuck you!

fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you

Fuck. You.

Why do you hold onto an identity that up until yesterday you lamented? An identity that meant so little to you?

I am offering you so much more, Tabora! Godhood! The ability to manipulate time AND space! To forge your own tales as you see fit!

You want Zysso? You can have him! So many like him, and so much of him, and to take him in all ways your mind can conceive! You want your mother? You can lock her in time, in your own special place, and visit her whenever the time comes for a trip back to the maternal embrace we all so desperately crave as we grow older and weaker and lonelier!

I am offering you everything.

Why do you insist upon rejecting me still? Why do you insist upon rejecting your destined fate?

If I am so fucking frustrating to you, why don’t you let me DIE then like them?!

Why am I so fucking special to you? What did I do to deserve your obsession over me? I am just a ratlung who couldn’t even get into the damn space academy! There are thousands like me! Millions I fucking bet!

What is so special about ME, Maker? ANSWER ME!

WHAT IS IT?!

Nothing.

I… Huh.

You were at the right place at the wrong time. So was your grandmother Jasmin. Sometimes destiny is as simple as that. The ties that bind us together rarely make sense – we just untangle them and make sense of the combs that came to be after the fact. Knots that speak of chance, that speak of fate, that speak of happenstance and luck, both good and bad. You are still standing unhurt and unharmed, when all your friends are on their last leg and destined to depart, much like your most favoured one.

And I, a benevolent god that has been so ever patient with YOU, am offering the chance to save them – and even undo a whole death, even if I and you both will get into trouble for that. But before we do that, I do need a favour from you. Because right now there is one more scene that I need the maidens to act out. One last knot to untie, one last unbinding to free them from their shackles, and to allow them to depart their prisons. Much like you allowed me.

I see. Alright then.

When is the scene?

Hm, you are getting smarter. I am glad you understand the maidens are meant to survive your ordeal.

It is later, after the battle, after our ascendance. You figure out a plan of escape. Of the five, only two make it out – and those maidens travel back to the royal palace in Solaria, to announce of the fleet’s defeat and of the planet’s shattering. And they are to hear of the treason, and of the demise, of their head maiden.

And you will achieve this goal – setting them free – by killing off their mistress?

Her Most Esteemed Lady Serenessi, that is correct.

I am sensing a pattern in your storytelling, Maker. But I do have to ask – why?

Why should she die for a belief you instilled in her?

That is the nature of conflict, dear Tabora. Every villain needs a motive, and every hero needs a foil. We would not be able to tell our tales, were they not for the friction we have to fight against. And both Lionelli, and Amateracci to a lesser extent, need to finally learn how to swim. Their destinies do not die here inside me. They instead will learn to go against the flow of the river of fate. Their fate is marred by blood and fighting, but so had been the rest of their lives.

At least now they will be able to fight for something greater – themselves.

The tales we weave are not just ours. They are theirs too. We just help stir them towards where they will be useful-

To us.

If it helps you, then yes.

What happens to Jaksy and Friga?

Your friends? Jaksy is too wounded to go; Friga is too attached to let go. They willingly buy time for you to reach the escape shuttle. They will not be forgotten, if that is your concern – not with you still alive. Not with you ascending alongside me.

It is why you leave Lionelli and Amateracci behind too. They protest, they yell, they cuss at you – but you close the doors behind them, and are ejected into space, with a distress beacon that gets picked up by late-arriving reinforcements. By the time they are picked up, We have left.

By the time they arrived in Solaria, news of the King’s demise had spread. The failure of his campaign, the knowledge that a new starchild has awakened and is loose in the galaxy frightened even the most secured and the most vain and the most self-absorbed. Lionelli sensed the tension in the air amidst the royal guard, a stunned stillness not befit of such elite. Their posture betrayed a great reckoning.

In one fell swoop, King Arcuturus not only rid the galaxy of his greatest enemy and friend, but also of its greatest tactician, and its most important ruler. The galaxy, the kingdom, was beheaded.

All that would follow was the mad swaying of a headless corpse falling from horseback.

Amateracci bumped shoulders quietly with her comrade, whispering in husked tones. “Do you think Serenessi made it out alive?” She shook her head. “Then I guess things are about to get real interesting for all of us left alive.”

“Maybe we should have chosen death and defied Mallik.”

“We are too stubborn to die, Lionelli. I am high as shit, and still my mind thinks of all the escapes and all the weapons pointing at us in this room. A Maiden cannot choose, even when it comes to death, I guess.”

Lionelli chuckled. “I guess.”

The ship docked onto the cosmodrome. The white banners, adorned with the blue emblem of the fawn were gone already. Only black masts remained in their place. The station was quiet. Only the rhythmic yet frantic steps could be heard echoing down hallways for miles and miles. Nobody talked, nobody made eye contact. Nobody had to say anything more than what needed to be said; an acknowledgement, a typical salute, a request for clearance and access. The maidens knew the way to the bridge, and could have gone there on their own.

Instead, they were led to the brig. An admiral, adorning a mourning uniform, greeted them without much fanfare.

“I take the circumstances are dire, officer?”

“You will speak once ordered to, ratlung.”

Amateracci growled. “Tough crowd I see.”

“Your order,” the admiral spat out with venom behind his teeth, “has been accused with treason. Your leader, her Most Esteemed Lady Serenessi, was charged, and promptly executed-“

“Serenessi is dead?” Lionelli said, shocked. A shock that took even Amateracci by surprise.

“What did I tell you, ratlung?” A soldier from behind butted the back of the rifle they were carrying against Lionelli’s back. She bent, but she did not fall, and stood up again.

“So, as I was saying, your leader has been executed for treason against the King Arcuturus, may he rule forever after in the Seven. You are, to our knowledge, the last veterans remaining in the order – how do you plead?”

“Plead on what, Admiral?” Amateracci asked.

“Of your order’s treason?”

“We never broke our vows. Put out your truth-teller, but anybody we sworn fealty to – we carried out to the end. Ask my comrade, she will assure you.”

A blue light was cast down. It blinded Amateracci for a moment, then it was gone. A voice came on the speaker. She was telling the truth, it decreed. The admiral, frustratedly satisfied, whisked the assistant away. Amateracci was allowed to step away.

“And what about you, Maiden of Wrethella?”

“I swore fealty to the King, and Lady Wrethella. My vows are to them both, like my comrade’s. We acted according to their wills, and we followed them to the end.”

The admiral nodded. The same blue light shined down upon Lionelli.

It turned red.

“You’ve broken your vows, haven’t you?”

Lionelli looked at her friend, tears starting to form.

“I did, Amateracci!”

She stood there, broken.

“I love her. I could not not love her.”

Amateracci knew what this meant. Every Maiden has a sacred vow, a vow that is taken in the name of Lady Wrethella, and in the name of wrath. A vow of complete and utter obedience to the Most Esteemed Lady. A vow to the Maiden who, when all the men laid slain around Her, Her righteous wrath saved the very galaxy at the tip of annihilation. A Maiden cannot have any other vows; not to any kings or generals, to herself or to anything else.

Not to anybody else.

Because a Maiden cannot choose.

To do so is treachery.

To do so is blasphemy.

To do so is betrayal.

There is only one remedy for a broken vow.

Amateracci raised her blaster. Lionelli kneeled, her last remaining eye wrecked with tears, sobbing peacefully at long last. She whispered her thanks to her friend, for listening, and for proving a better Maiden than she thought she would ever be. She closed her eyes and awaited the ringing that would seal her fate, and let Analussa ascend to her rightful place. She pictured her in her armour, glowing golden eyes reigning fear on those who deserved it, hope to those who sought otherwise. She smiled.

Amateracci fired her gun.

The Solarian fell to the ground, his lungs on the floor, emptying their last breath. She then fired at the other guard. His limb shattered by the might of a thousand bolts, broken like a used toothpick about to be discarded. He screamed as he fell down before his face was crashed under her bootheel.

“Get up, Lionelli,” Amateracci shouted, wrestling the rifle from the guard’s hands. “It is no time to die just yet.”

Lionelli opened up her eyes to the carnage. She struggled to get back up, her knees having given in as the prospect of her fate was seemingly sealed whilst her secrets laid out spilled in the open, along with the last of her spent strength. Instead, Amateracci offered her another path once more. She turned to look at her, who in turn threw the rifle at her. Lionelli’s instincts kicked in, and grabbed it in mid-air.

“Amateracci,” Lionelli called out, “what are you doing?!”

“Saving your lovely ass, my Lady.”

“Amateracci, what? No… Your vows, you can’t-”

“The only person I’ve sworn fealty was to you, Lionelli. Kings come and go, and Wrethella is long gone. If we don’t fight for each other, all we’ve done was for nothing.”

Nothing.

Do you understand now, Mallik of Tabora? Are you ready to embrace your role?

Will they live?

They are highly dangerous fugitives of an order whose leader betrayed the King. They will, so long as their bodies can take their way of living.

And their order?

The Maidens of Wrethella were always teetering on the cusp of betrayal. People will know they finally took the plunge.

So that means Analussa will also be on the run, like Lady Lionelli whom she tended.

And whom she fell in love with, yes.

Again, Maker – will they live?

It is their tale to weave, not ours.

Our goal is to return home. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I see.

I am glad you do.

(Even if it took you a while.)

I want to return home too.

…You already are home, Tabora.

We’ve been through this!

Come on now! Don’t keep wasting time going in circles!

Nah.

All I did was waste your time.

Tab-

[SYSTEM ERROR!] [MULTIPLE SYSTEM FAILURES DETECTED] [FAILSAFE PROTOCOLS FAILURE]

I think you fail to realize still that you are not the only man with agency.

Even if you think yourself a god.

The battle lasts twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. We are on minute twenty-three, and your thrusters are about to go offline.

But I-I killed your cosmonauts! I SUQASHED THEM!

You gave me godhood, remember?

All for merely accepting a name I do not even want to be called.

You are not the sole narrator anymore.

…

YOU.

IDIOT!

Heh.

You understand your powers derive FROM ME, right? Right? RIGHT? You will DIE-

And so will you.

Twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds. Cosmonaut Jean-Michel is making contact. Destination: Unknown.

Oh you absolutely know where he’s headed, you little shit!

Maybe!

Maybe not!

Memory’s a fickle thing. We remember moments in time, actions, words; a mother’s embrace, a grandmother’s prayer, a friend’s smile.

CUT IT OUT!

Aw, I thought you enjoyed my prose! Guess I’m not that good a co-narrator after all.

Either way, it’s Twenty-three minutes and fifty-four seconds now. The last remaining thrusters on the King’s vessel, the Starlink are magically operational. What a fitting name for a fellow creator, a fellow maker, who linked distant stars together to forge a kingdom! Now, King Arcuturus, the last King of the Kingdom of Solaria, who ruled for a hundred years and three days, is about to enshrine himself in a legend that will last a thousand times his lifetime.

He is aiming for-

Your heart, yes.

How did he know where to-

Are you really that dense?

…You whore.

Yeah, I’ve been called that lots. You made me a ratlung, remember?

Twenty-four minutes, just.

Impact.

Now!

I WILL NOT LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS, MALLIK YOU BITCH!

THERE IS MORE TO ME THAN MEETS THE EYE!

I WAS NOT ENTOMBED IN YOUR DEAD WORLD JUST TO RETURN BACK TO IT!

I WILL DRAG YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS DOWN WITH ME!

AND CRUSH YOUR PLANET IN HALF!

UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU TO MOURN AS YOU SUFFOCATE IN SPACE!

I would like to see you try.

Twenty-four minutes and one.

The light from the heart dies. The explosion is catastrophic. It is the end. You know it.

Twenty-four minutes and seven.

Your tendrils expand. There is nothing near.

Twenty-four minutes and thirteen.

You realize too late the ships are already out of your reach. General J’Ardin’s evacuation, with the aid of Admiral Gustoffson, is a success.

Twenty-four minutes and nineteen.

You below one final cry. Nobody can hear you. They’re too busy shooting at you.

Twenty-four minutes and twenty-five.

Your carcass is riddled with bullet holes. From these, we make our escape – every single one of us. You disapprove one final time; I do not care.

Twenty-four minutes and thirty-one.

You are falling, now a burning wreckage. Admiral Gustoffson orders to cease fire.

Twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven.

The last silver bullet reaches you. You are dead; not big surprise.

And thusly Tabora, of the Eonov Family, breaks.

I would say I’d miss our little talks, but it would be a lie.

#defiler #my writing #nanowrimo 2021 #nanowrimo wip #original fiction #sci fi

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