Just as his armor reformed itself, their bodies were now more resilient than they had ever been. Dodging more fire, Mnoth wasn't shaken by this. After all, the soldiers weren't paying attention to the basilisk assassins sneaking up behind them.
Making a dogleg pounce, Mnoth got by another charged shot and threw Richard down. With the wind knocked out of him, he struggled up. The dragoon noted that one of the basilisks had grabbed a soldier, and a pleasant neck-snapping sound followed.
The other swung around, but the other basilisk was already on his back, clinging tightly. All this happened in a second, and now Mnoth faced down and bit into Richard's leg. Even as he cried out in pain, the man managed to dive into his left sleeve and hit the "drain" button.
A flash headache and gag reflex streaked through Mnoth, diminishing his focus; amplifying his anger. Two splats sounded as the weaker basilisks hit the ground. Using his handcannon as support, Richard limped back up.
Feet away, at the entrance, the remaining soldier headshot the smaller aliens as they writhed.
"Sir, come this way, please! Hurry!" shouted Marty, turning toward Mnoth and firing. Through layers of smoke in his head, the dragoon was still able to shuffle and hop out of the way of the worst bursts. Apparently, the sentience of Uncreation reduced the effects of this smaller device.
As the two humans struggled away down the hall, the effect lifted. Standing back up and blinking the motoroil from his vision, Mnoth prepared to pursue.
At the archway he heard a whimper. To his right, the girl crouched in a tight cluster of broken pillars and rubble.
Nausia gone, Mnoth smiled toothily and walked up. Roslyn shrank farther back.
You're going to have to come out of there sooner or later, you know, said Mnoth. Roslyn stayed put, hiding her face in her hands.
Look, I don't deny that this is cute and such - I' loving it, I mean that - but really, there is no escape. Those two....they're making their way back to the ship. They can't see the shadow on its hull, or know that my big friend waits atop the lip of the canyon. They don't know that, about halfway up, they'll have a sudden and serious weight problem that will crush them, and their craft, to its final landing... he paced right and left, keeping his eyes on her.
They will die. The craft will die. There will be no escape for you. I guess my point - he stepped forward and stretched his head as far through the tight aperture as it would go, inches from her - ...my point is, you're going to die here, so I may as well eat you. Whaddaya say?
"I know," she said.
Mnoth was surprised.
You - you mean it?
"I've come to terms with it," she said, rubbing her eyes. "But first, I want to stop Richard."
Mnoth sighed and drew his head back out.
I just went over thi-
She broke him off. "I want to SEE it, to be sure. He's taken my life away more than even you can - "
- will -
" - whatever. If we're both certain I'm doomed, why would you deny me this?"
Interesting... Mnoth cocked his head. This isn't some human ploy, 'playing for time', or whatever, is it?
"Look, I give you my word, once he's dead, I'll hold still and let you eat me. Sound good?"
I'd prefer it if you struggle a little.
"Can we do this?"
....Yes, OK. said the goon, finally, and backed up to the archway. He watched as she exhaled, stood up, and slowly shouldered through the pillars, out into the open, to stand in front of him.
Both in the archway now, they looked at each other. At least the human wasn't sobbing anymore. It had even stopped trembling as it looked down at him.
Mnoth noticed her bare foot.
Your uh- your foot's back, he observed.
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a choke.
After another moment of awkwardness, Mnoth spoke up.
Well, human, you better start jogging if you want to see the show!
Roslyn turned and headed into the hall, and Mnoth followed. They passed the bodies of the fallen soldier and basilisks, and picked up speed.
Ahead, the human was hoping that somehow, she and the alien could stop Richard together. She had come to fully believe the prophetic poem, and if Richard was defeated, the Lucifer Corporation would be made to pay for this betrayal. That, and perhaps Kyp, her last and unlikely friend, would survive to live in a world where the freed aliens would be tolerated by an informed Coalition, not tortured and studied by a vile company whose secret would be buried forever.
Behind, the alien was pondering that this was the most interesting and spunky human he'd ever met; and wondering if her foot would tast different this time.
***************************************
Only two minutes after the others left, Jake's eye stopped hurting. It still dripped a little, but he was finally able to focus himself. Taking a helmet from the wall rack, he opened the hatch and lowered the ramp. He then strapped a battery pack to his back, and selected a mass driver.
Exiting and closing the dropship, he heard echoes. Some were shouts, and some were ground-shaking. A few red bolts flew up into the clouds.
"He must be trying to kill them!" Jake realized, and started sprinting into the maze. He reached a long hall that seemed to go on forever. At the entrance, there was a bootprint in the dust. Ignoring his one-sided vision, he ran down the avenue. Thirty seconds later, he rand squarely into the turn.
"What the hell?" he cried, cursing the illusion and picking himself up. "This place could be full of these..." he realized, throwing off his helmet.
Entering the crossroads, he tried each path, till he saw the spent flare. Now he ran down this corridor. As he reached the grand hall, the echoes stopped. Through the opening at the end of the hall, he had a clear view of Richard's shuttle. Looking around quickly, he found a broken pillar just taller than he was. Tossing his weapon up, he reached and pulled himself up and onto the perch.
From this small platform, he had a clear shot at the shuttle.
"Everyone has to pass this spot," he figured to himself. He had barely settled when two figures emerged from an archway away to the left. Halfway between his perch and the ship, they turned for the dias where it was parked.
One was an armored soldier, the other was Richard. They were both limping. Laying prone, Jake realized that this might be the only chance he would ever get.
"That's right, buddy, you only need one eye to snipe with," he breathed, not knowing that the other had healed by now. Inhaling, he put his eye to the scope, and aimed for the back of Richard's head. He began to exhale, and watched as the reticle settled nicely into place.
Only then did he see the shadow on the roof of the shuttle. They must not have been able to see it, as they shuffled across the bridge from a lower angle. Lifting his sights up, Jake saw a tyrant peering over the edge of the canyon, some fifty feet above the ship. It was waiting.
This was almost too much for Jake. It was going to be poetic. He lowered the MD and rolled onto his back, smiling widely.
"I'm going to let this happen. I'm going to watch, and I'm going to enjoy myself...."
And so, Jake rolled back over and watched.
The humans reached the shuttle and entered. The engines started to hum as the craft came to life. Above, the tyrant stepped right to the edge, spilling down sheets of surface sand.
Through his scope, he looked into the pilot's viewport. Richard was seated in the passenger seat, breating heavily. The soldier was taking off his helmet. It was Marty.
"Marty, Marty," mumbled Jake. "You should have listened to me...but I guess you are the pilot..."
The shuttle lifted off the ground, ascending vertically. "I liked you Marty. Too bad, too bad."
The alien stepped over the edge and plummeted down. It hit the roof of the shuttle just aft of the cockpit. The ship stopped ascending and wobbled in place for a breathtaking moment. Barely keeping its balance, the tyrant brought his forclaws down and pierced right through the roof. Jake had no way of knowing if it had hit anything vital.
The shuttle, too heavy now, started to plunge back down. It hit the dias much harder than any proper landing, and its external systems exploded with an electric flash. The tyrant itself was not anchored well enough. When the ship hit, it spun off like a ragdoll, sliding and almost falling from the crystal bridge. It looked to be out of the running, perhaps with a broken back. It didn't move.
Jake rolled onto his back again. He felt laughter boil up from deep inside of him. Gazing up at the sky and the golden snow, he laughed aloud.
"Dead and gone, dead and gone. Haha, YEAH! Rest in peace, motherfucker..." and he laughed some more. It was all over. He sighed through the quiet. It was peaceful here, now.
Quite suddenly, he felt something, or rather, heard it faintly. He lay still, trying to catch it again. The voice came again, this time audible:
Woe, woe, you have failed!
"The heck does that mean?" he muttered, glancing from the sky to look left. There was nothing but the wall rising up into the sky. He glanced right. A row of gleaming eyes met his. A colossal claw raised itself into view.
"Oh SHI - "
The claw came down like a papercutter and found Jake's waist with a wet spluck sound.
....and STAY up there! growled Sigig. He had only just been able to reach, which was a miracle in his condition. He was sure that his back wasn't in fewer than four pieces (two above the norm for a tyrant).
Moving on, he went further down the grand hall, limping slowly; his only wish to get out of this maze and away from this eerie place.
Two pounce's distance behind him, Richard flopped his way out of the shuttle's breached hull, still clinging to his precious handcannon. Sprawled and bloodied, he looked up at the shape of the retreating tyrant.
He tried to slide the gun forward, but his damaged arm buckled under the weight of it. Come to think of it, his vision was too blurry anyway.
Richard watched the broken tyrant plod onwards down the venue. As it finally rounded the bend, he lifted his hand and pointed his index finger at the fading alien.
"Pew, pew-pew," he breathed, and chuckled. Nothing seemed to make any sense anymore. Behind him, he heard the soldier stir in the wreckage. He contemplated killing him now. After all, Richard couldn't afford to throw the switch any sooner than another hour from now. Time had to pass. He had to allow the fleets time to be wiped out.
The soldier stopped moving. Maybe he wouldn't have to be killed after all.
Richard fought up onto his knees, then his feet. His vision was clearing a little.
He heard a splat nearby. He wandered what it could be, but then he saw two shapes moving at him. He stood up, uneasily, on the bridge, and charged his handcannon, raising it two-handed. The shapes came into focus.
One was Roslyn, the other was the dragoon. They were moving at him, side by side, darkness in their eyes.
The girl started running. The dragoon pounced at him. Richard coughed a laugh out, and loosed a shot in the face of the pouncing alien. The ball of yellow brilliance hit the dragoon full on, and it landed to slide to his feet. He raised the gun up and brought the hiltdown on its head.
Richard reoriented his handcannon, smiling. He saw that Roslyn was still charging at him. She'd never reach him in time. He charged another shot.
Not even zig-zagging, he thought as he lined her up. He heard another slat. In the corner of his eye, he saw movement on the wall. He swung the cannon around.
It was the granger, spitting at him!
His eyes went dark. It had hit him!
"Stupid, STUPID, crazy fucking son of a GRANGER!" he cried out, enraged. He loosed the trigger, but was hit head on by the girl. He was knocked over backwards, NO! He felt himself fall into open space. He heard the air rushing past. He felt her still gripping him, still groping up his sleeve. Anger. He went to swing at her with his free arm, but a passing wall took it right off at the elbow. White-hot pain shocked his mind. More wind. He felt her fingers on the safety catch. He felt the catch slide away. Wind. Her finger at the toggle. The click. Darkness...
A wave of energy passed from one side of the planetoid to the other. It did many things, but the most relevant one is that it jogged Marty out of unconsciousness.
He had been strapped in when the craft fell, unlike his copilot. In a daze, he stumbled out of the wreckage. The aura of Uncreation was gone, replaced with - something else. A headache, he decided. Stepping down from the dias, he tried desperately to remember where he had parked the other shuttle.
Where was it, where was it? Oh, fist things first...there's a dead goon in front of me! he thought. He went to step around it, carefully.
The dragoon spluttered. Green bile, or blood, was dripping from its mouth, and the whole thing smelled like it had been flash-cooked. Marty took out his blaster and tried to aim it at the floundering dragoon, but his arm just wasn't working. Slowly, he began to perceive that the splutters were actually short, grunting laughs.
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh my head," Marty groaned. "I must be going mad..."
The alien kept laughing, then it whispered hoarsely:
Memories, memories. Can't forget these, no way.... then it went back to spluttering.
Marty forced himself to keep moving, to not give in to the illusion. He cheered himself onward, ears ringing. As he stumbled past the dragoon, it slowly pulled its legs in, bringing them tightly against itself. Marty kept moving, semi-oblivious to his blurred surroundings. Eventually he ambled into the crossroads. Then he fought through more halls. His head hurt.
Dropping to his knees, he released his blaster and gripped his head.
Don't stop, must keep searching! his eyes focused on movement ahead of him. Another alien came into focus, this one small and living. The granger looked up at him, glossy-eyed.
"She was a hero," it said.
That granger is talking to me, marty observed inwardly.
"Oh, come on. Follow!" it said. It started bumbling off through the rubble.
I'll follow it! Maybe it's my subconscious! Marty went after the alien. Three rooms later, he was standing in front of his shuttle. The granger turned to him.
"She saved me - she saved all of us...." it said. Then it made for the nearest wall and walked right up it, over the edge, into the sand.
Grateful, Martin Spencer, Mec-2, pulled himself up into his dropship. As he slid into the pilot's chair, he noted that the comms were blaring:
*** The Hive is down! We are saved! The Hive is down! The aliens have given up! ***
Through the thick cockpit glass, Marty saw two corvettes drop down through the clouds.
He reached into his pocket for the keys.
No, other pocket. But wait, what's in this pocket?
He pulled out Jake's good-luck charm. Seeing it in his hands made him laugh to himself; made everything seem surreal. Yes, he was very, very lucky, he supposed. Last man standing, in fact. Wondering if his beach snapshot was inside, he emptied the pouch into his hand. No photo or anything interesting fell out, only three sesame seeds.
"Huh. Weird."
The End
