"Object rapidly approaching!"
"Identified -- appears to be some kind of avian organism!"
"Engaging!"
"Fighter down! Fighter down! Mayday, mayday!"
"Organism has automatic defenses -- repeat, automatic defenses!"
Alexandrius Toll gritted his teeth as he looked at the monitors before him, taking in the shouts of the operators as they analyzed the threat. On the generated map, he could see the red dot that was this new enemy, surrounded by a swarm of their own white fighters -- and, without fail, each fighter that fired upon it going down. This foe was formidable.
He swiped to the next screen, an on-board camera from one of the fighters themselves. Toll watched as the tiny starship launched its missiles at the massive bird-thing -- and continued watching as, a second later, the fighter was struck and obliterated by what looked like a bolt of blue lightning.
"Pursue but do not engage," Toll barked onto the channel authoritatively. "We're wasting lives here. Grace, what is this?"
Winston Grace's voice came back over the communicator. "Huh?"
"Are you not paying attention, boy? We have a creature rapidly approaching, repelling whatever we throw at it. Analyze the threat."
Grace had the audacity to sound annoyed. "I'm analyzing things on the ground, dude. There are meteors coming down. I can't look at everything at once."
Toll found that he was grinding his teeth once again -- an unsightly habit, but one the world seemed keen to force upon him. "Forget about the ground," he snapped. "If Caesar wants her Officers left to their own devices, then leave them. Tell me how to deal with this goddamn bird!"
Those last few words, bellowed, earned him a wide look of surprise from Harz -- Dariah Todd Harlow seemed to have left -- but Toll ignored it. He'd had enough of sitting up here quietly while idiots fought the battle below, killing each other just as much as the enemy. If the adversary was going to present itself to him, he would deal with it his own way.
There was a moment of silence, and Toll barked down the communicator again: "Grace!"
"Fine, fine," Winston sighed, before launching into his spiel: "Well, just from looking at it, I'd say it's not a naturally occurring organism, but that's kinda obvious -- it's flying around in space, after all. It shouldn't be able to produce flames like that, either, so definitely some kind of engineered creature with Aether enhancement and alteration on top of that. The way it's moving isn't just animal instinct, as well -- there's definitely human intelligence at the wheel. Hard to buy remote control with this kind of precision, so this is a person who's turned themselves into that."
Toll rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This doesn't help us stop them, boy."
"You'll notice they've been using those electricity blasts to automatically retaliate against attacks, but I've also spotted it firing them on targets that haven't attacked yet. I'm guessing that electricity ability works both automatically and on command, then, depending on what's needed. Despite that, though, they haven't launched any attacks on the Tartarus itself. Why do you suppose that is?"
It took Toll only a moment. "They plan to board us?"
"Exactly. I'm guessing that while things are chaotic down there, this guy plans to come up here and disrupt our chain of command. One of the people on their kill list is probably me," he said casually. "But the fact they're not attacking directly means there are targets they need alive, too. Hence, they're going to try to board us. Hence, we need to secure whoever they're going after."
Toll closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. It didn't take a genius to reach the conclusion here. The person this miscreant would be going after would be someone who'd be valuable as a hostage, and not such a threat that they needed to be eliminated outright.
With another flick of his wrist, Toll switched the communication channel and roared his command.
"Men! Secure the Heir!"
----------------------------------------
Ash del Duran kept his eyes closed as he meditated upon the mat. He did not squeeze his eyes closed, nothing so forceful, but instead allowed them to peacefully rest. When meditating, it was vital for all of a person, save their mind, to be in a state of utter relaxation.
Even with his eyes closed, though, he could sense what was in the room around him. This was not an Aether ability. It was simply a proficiency in reading the shifting of the air around him, listening to the most minute of sounds, and building a map in his head around it.
Most people who developed Aether came to rely upon it. With his curse, Ash del Duran did not have that kind of luxury.
He crawled into his Aether core without actually activating his Aether, immersing himself in that feeling of yearning that brought his strength forth. It did not matter what he yearned for. So long as he desired something, so long as he had to extend his arm to the limit to grasp it, his power swelled.
Yearning could be for anything, but it could not be for nothing. That was the death-drive, an entirely different sensation. What did Ash yearn for today? The same thing as always.
Glory.
A great deed to be etched upon his grave. He had now accepted that he would die sooner rather than later -- he was a born fighter, and could not tear himself away from that world. The only thing that remained was to live a life of prominence before the timepiece of his life ticked to its inevitable end.
This new posting, a member of the Seven Blades of the Turning of the Heir… he could sense that this was the path he needed. To safeguard the future of the galaxy was a great thing indeed. Heroes of the Seven Blades -- and its predecessor organizations -- lived on through their legends even now. The Heroes of Form, the Triumvirate, Marlan Howe… would the name Ash del Duran one day be spoken of in the same way? It was the only thing he could hope for.
That is, if he could do the job.
His eyes snapped open and he rose silently to his feet, looking around the room. The Heir herself had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up into a ball, the comedy videograph across from her blaring without an audience. She showed no signs of noticing the danger that had just appeared, but that was only natural. Even most Aether-users wouldn't have noticed it.
The distant shudder of the hull, and a creak at an unnatural moment. That was all that Ash del Duran needed to know the situation -- the Tartarus had been breached, something smashing through the side of the massive cruiser. If it wasn't accompanied by explosions, that suggested they'd been boarded, not bombarded.
In which case, the Supreme Heir would be one of their targets without a doubt.
Ash stepped across the carpet, his footsteps still silent, and gently shook the Heir awake. She blearily opened her eyes, untied hair falling over her face, a low groan trickling from her throat. With a yawn, she swept some of her hair back with a hand.
"What…?" she mumbled, distantly annoyed.
Ash did not mince his words. "The Tartarus is under attack. We have been boarded. There will be people coming to kidnap or kill you."
That woke up the girl more efficiently than any cup of coffee ever could. Her eyes widening, she fumbled herself up into a sitting position, her bed-head sticking out crazily in every direction.
"What?!" she cried.
"The Tartarus is under attack. We have been boarded. There will be people coming to kidnap or kill you," Ash clarified.
Aclima threw herself off the couch, hauling up the greatsword that had been resting against it. The weapon was far too big for her, and far too heavy, but she insistently dragged it along the floor anyway. "Well, what do we do?" she asked.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Ash put a hand to his chin and considered the quandary. The room they were staying in wasn't the one they'd registered with the ship's steward, so anyone tracking them based on the ship's manifest shouldn't be able to find them… but for some reason, Ash found himself uneasy.
He'd learnt long ago that it was a good idea to listen to yourself in such situations.
"We'll go to the bridge," he decided. "Where the Ascendant-General and the other command staff will be. That's the best course of action."
"Okay," Aclima nodded breathlessly, turning on her heel to run for the door as fast as her weapon would allow --
-- when the lights went out.
----------------------------------------
When Lily Aubrisher had first seen the starship back on Hexkay, she'd thought it was some kind of great wonder. A lost treasure, a legendary vessel, that kind of thing. Certainly unique, at least.
But ever since emerging into the galaxy at large, she'd come to discover that ships like this were a dime-a-dozen.
Lily had smashed right through the wall of the hallway with one fist, grasped hold of the cables behind it -- and taken communion. The power that had been coursing through the ship was instead redirected into her body, greedily absorbing nearly all the electricity the vessel possessed.
She left just enough energy for gravity and life support, but only because removing those would make her own mission inconvenient as well.
As she drank, the bright lights around them flicked off, plunging them into darkness -- the only illumination being the lightning racing over her skin. Finally, satisfied that she'd crippled the Tartarus, Lily released the cable and let it flop uselessly to the ground.
"You good?" she called out to Vex over her shoulder.
"Sure am. Just flew through space, you know, but I'm fine. Just great. Just fought off like fifty fighters, but you know. All good." Vex sounded sarcastic, but she was entirely genuine. Lily had come to learn that long ago.
The other woman had reverted to her 10% form -- retaining only the crimson wings of Suzaku over her shoulders -- but she'd left a thick cover of giant red feathers embedded in the hole they'd made in the hull. Those feathers were stronger than any shield, and absolutely airtight. Melded into the metal as they were, they would serve just as well as the hull itself had. At the very least, nobody was going to get sucked out into the vacuum of space.
"You remember the info?" Lily asked. "You've got the Heir."
With that same deadpan expression on her face, Vex tapped her temple. "Memorized. Are you gonna be fine on your own, though. There's gonna be, like, a lot of them, right."
Lily grinned. "I'll be just fine. The more, the merrier. It's not much of a distraction if it isn't loud, yeah?"
She'd already seen it during the absorption -- the destination she'd need to make her way to, where the electricity was concentrated and arranged in that telltale way. A briefing room, with all sorts of monitors and communications equipment. That was where the person directing operations on the ground would be.
That was her target.
----------------------------------------
Winston Grace, sliding his fingers over the holographic table to inspect different parts of the battlefield, suddenly paused.
His sister Beatrice, watching over him from behind with crossed arms, frowned. "What is it?" she asked. She knew her brother well enough to know this was not a face meant for good news.
He didn't answer straight away. Winston just clicked his tongue, took the stylus in his hand, and scratched his hair with it as he looked down at the hologram. The meteor storm had devastated the surface of Elysian Fields, great infernos raging through and devouring the forests, even if the pyramid itself was still hanging in there.
When the lights had gone out, the technicians had hooked the briefing room up to an emergency generator -- the lights were dim and the models of the holograms low-quality, but that didn't seem to be the cause of Winston's trepidation.
"I might die in the next couple of minutes," he finally said, sighing.
The declaration caused quite a stir. They weren't alone in the briefing room -- far from it, with logistical and communications staff gathered to operate equipment and pass along information. Half-a-dozen pale faces turned towards Winston in alarm, but he paid them no mind. He just continued to play with his holographic board.
Beatrice, for her part, wasted no time. With practiced grace, she unclipped two knives from her sash and gripped them backwards in her hands, already prepared to gouge at flesh and saw at bone. In the back of her mind, she focused on the time Winston had broken her script when they were kids -- and dark blue Aether flared in response to her core of annoyance.
"What are we looking at?" she asked, all business, ignoring the alarmed looks from those around her. "How many enemies?"
"Just one," Winston held up a single finger, as if she'd never heard of numbers before. "The person using the automatic attacks is different from the person who turned into the bird. You noticed, right? One used lightning and the other used fire. I don't know why, but Aether-users tend to stick to a specific aesthetic."
"So which one's coming?" Beatrice asked.
As she spoke, she dropped to one knee, inspecting the equipment she'd brought along. Smoke bombs, taser discs, syringes of lethal poison… everything seemed to be in good enough condition. Her ability, Pariah, seemed to be in working order as well.
"No way of knowing," Winston said casually. "It's one of the two, anyway. Whichever one isn't coming to kill me will be going after the Heir."
"Right… okay," Beatrice nodded, rising to her feet. Her gaze turned to the rest of the staff. "If you guys don't want to die, I'd suggest you evacuate."
"Huh?" Winston blinked -- and, a second later, remembered that they were not alone. "Oh, yeah. You guys run for it or whatever."
They didn't need to be told twice. The gathered personnel rushed out as quickly as their legs would take them, leaving just Winston and Beatrice in the dimly lit room. Beatrice, tossing her knives up and down in her hands, took up a position in front of the briefing table -- her eyes fixed on the entrance.
When they were young, Winston had taken to solving murders, and Beatrice had taken to perfecting them. This was her arena.
She'd have a kill ready and waiting for whoever was coming.
----------------------------------------
This part of the Tartarus was usually occupied by diplomats and other temporary visitors -- more like a hotel than something you'd expect to see on a military starship. Plush red carpet lay underfoot, softening their footsteps as they ran. The wooden upholstery and zig-zag wallpaper were almost enough to make you forget you were in space at all.
During its time above Elysian Fields, the Tartarus had used these quarters to house the many, many, many Special Officers who had responded to the Supreme's summons. On one hand, that had made it easy for Master Muzazi to hide the Supreme Heir’s location among so many new faces and names.
On the other hand, now that most of those same Special Officers were either on the planet below or waiting in the pod bays… this part of the Tartarus was distressingly empty.
Ash put a hand on the Supreme Heir's shoulder as they transitioned from the faux-comfortable aesthetic of the private quarters to the cold hallways of the Tartarus proper. Red carpet and tacky wallpaper were both replaced by sleek white material that made their footsteps click. The wooden upholstery was gone, and the closest thing to decorations were the small portholes that looked out into the void of space.
The darkness was such that they could only see by flashlight, but as the shadows danced across the Heir's face, Ash could see that she was terrified.
He'd heard stories, but it was still a surprise. To think the Supreme Heir was still such an unpolished stone…
After some looking around, Ash found what he'd been looking for. A metal cabinet built into the wall, for situations such as this. The door was jammed, and took some persuasion, but Ash got it open quickly: revealing the payload within.
Folded-up disposal bicycles, hung up in rows.
A ship like the Tartarus was huge -- moving through it wasn't as simple as walking. A tram ran down the middle of the ship to transport workers to different sectors, and elevators handled vertical travel, but in a situation like this, methods like that weren't reliable. No, without power, these bicycles were the most efficient means of getting around.
If nothing else, he was sure this girl was proficient enough to ride a bike.
He was just about to turn around to offer the Heir a bicycle of her own when he sensed it. That shift in the air, that tiny breath, that concealed footstep. In an instant, Ash moved into action -- pushing the Heir behind him with mechanical efficiency and assuming a combat stance.
One palm held out, ready to receive and reject the world.
Click. Click. Click.
As if sensing that it was pointless, the footsteps had ceased concealing themselves. Ash waited, body in a state of relaxed readiness, eyes fixed on the other end of the hallway -- at the corner that would present his adversary. He had wished for glory as a member of the Seven Blades. This was his chance to achieve that.
"What's going on?" the Heir said, voice hushed and fearful.
Ash ignored it.
The figure strode around the corner. Two red wings, feathered and fiery. Long blue hair with red tips. Black antlers, twisted and spiked like the thorns of a rose. More crimson feathers, floating freely through the air, hovering around the woman as she revealed herself.
Ash took in all the information presented to him. It was unnatural that she'd found them so quickly. An Aether ping wouldn't have done her any good against a pinpoint user and a normal human, so she must have used another method. Most likely those floating feathers held some kind of scouting ability.
"I offer you a chance to leave with your life," he said calmly. "Persist and you will die."
He did not shift his stance at all as he spoke. The only thing that moved was his mouth, as if he was a statue aspiring to life. He could feel the Heir trembling behind him.
Perhaps this will be good for her, he thought to himself. She will see how she is expected to deal with threats.
"Oh, wow," the girl said, her voice dull. "You seem like a strong guy. I was hoping I wouldn't have to fight a strong guy. I thought maybe it could be an easy thing. Oh. This sucks. This is the worst."
Ash narrowed his eyes. "I offer you a chance to leave with your life," he clarified. "Persist and you will die."
For a moment, there was silence, and he could see the gears turning behind the woman's face. Then, however, her wings just shrugged behind her -- and the slightest unhappy smile spread across her lips.
"Guess I'll die, then."
Without another word, the woman charged.