Dragan ran out of the medical tent, quickly followed by Mila and Aiden. The rest of the Humilists had already gathered into a small, worried crowd with Helga at their head. She was staring up at the sky with angry, resolute eyes.
A small vessel had just broken through the cloud layer and was rapidly descending down towards the camp. It was a long, thin saucer - the only identifying features save for shape being the series of running blue-and-red lights along its underside.
Not a ship that Dragan recognised, but he supposed that made sense. A lot of these Special Officers were narcissists who liked to stand out from their peers. As far as Dragan had seen, Atoy Muzazi had been a rare exception.
A thought occurred. He'd look really stupid if he said that and then Muzazi marched out of the ship, so he'd keep that praise to himself.
In any case, he, Bruno and Serena were screwed if they stuck around - any Special Officer who showed up would be eager to claim whatever rewards had been placed on their heads. He had to get them out of here.
As the saucer descended, sending torrents of grass and a few loose tents flying away, Dragan turned to Mila.
"I need to disappear, fast," he said seriously. "The stimulants - help me grab as many as I can and get Bruno moving around before that ship lands."
Mila hesitated for a moment, then nodded - and the two of them began running back towards the medical tent. As they moved, a darkness fell; the saucer blocking out the sun with its descent, swallowing the camp into it's huge shadow.
Dragan didn't look back: every second mattered. When you had a gun to your head, you couldn't worry about the lighting of it.
-
Special Officer Samael Ambrazo Zakos was in a good mood. Through the viewscreens, he could see that the crowd gathered at the front of the Humilist camp were terrified, staring up at his ship with wide eyes.
Good. Good! He was being shown the respect he deserved as a Special Officer of the Supremacy! How ironic that only these foreign masses could properly comprehend his glory, while the fossils of the Supremacy simply sneered and called him unworthy.
After passing his examination, Zakos had rightfully expected respect. He had become a living legend, after all. Wasn't it natural to expect respect?
Yes! There wasn't even a question there! Like humans breathed air, Special Officers were to be respected. He had joined the ranks of the gods of combat, standing alongside the likes of Baltay Kojirough, Nigen Rush and Achilles Esmeralda! Would one deny them their respect, owed to them via their accomplishments and station? No! The very notion was absurd!
Zakos' grip tightened on the controls, sickly yellow Aether whirling around his hands at incredible speeds. The tiniest crack formed in the direction sticks he was maneuvering with, and he eased his grip just a tad.
Still, he was entitled to respect. A normal man deserved basic respect, so a legend deserved nothing less than adoration! This was the natural order of things, which could be denied no more than one could deny their need to breathe!
And yet - and yet! Whispers behind his back, laughter, dismissive glances! A compendium of indignities upon his personage! Unacceptable! Unacceptable!
The ship landed with a soft thunk. His entrance had been perfect: the opening to his very own festival of success. He'd smashed through the atmosphere with ease, and now he landed soft as a pillow. He had displayed both the open palm and the closed fist.
None could deny that - none, not even that arrogant bastard Atoy Muzazi. When they’d passed each other after their examination, that bastard had looked at him like filth. Who was he to judge Zakos? He had passed the examination like everyone else! Even if his methods had differed, he was a Special Officer all the same! The indignity of it! To be looked at with those eyes! The indignity!
Zakos cleared his throat and stepped up from his captain's seat, forcing calm onto his body. It wouldn't do for these people to see him agitated, even if it was a result of righteousness. He was the only living thing aboard his ship - The Chariot of St. Augustine - but outside there was no shortage of witnesses.
He pulled up his sleeve and tapped a few buttons on his wrist-bound script. Two humanoid automatics unfolded themselves from the wall and rose to their full height, looking for all the world like metal skeletons. Plasma rifles were built into their arms, and dim blue light shone from deep inside their 'eye sockets'.
They were expensive, yes, but that did not mean Zakos bought his victories. He simply exerted financial strength - and the technical strength to deploy and operate his automatics, too. Was that not equal - no, superior - to the simple physical strength that whelps like Atoy Muzazi demonstrated?
Yes! The answer was yes!
No matter. Muzazi would look a fool now anyway. Not only had Zakos managed to intercept the transmission meant for him, he would now - while Muzazi and his new partner were wasting time elsewhere - execute the mission that Muzazi had embarked on! He couldn't wait to see the swordsman's humiliated face once he brought his quarry's heads before him.
"Prepare to deploy," he said, voice low and gruff, an utter contrast to the maelstrom raging in his mind. "Bodyguard formation. Accept active orders."
He tapped his script and the automatics accepted his voice commands, taking up positions on either side of him.
The hatch opened beneath him and the section of floor he was standing on began to slide downwards like an elevator. The welcome darkness of his ship was replaced by blazing sunlight.
Samael Ambrazo Zakos descended.
-
Dragan wasn't gentle with the stimulants. One after another, he injected Bruno and Serena, making sure that every drop of the medicine made its way into their body.
They should be able to get a few hours of lucidity out of this, and then - no, he couldn't think about that yet. He'd come up with a solution for that. He had to.
"How long is this gonna take?" he hissed, voice hushed as if the Special Officer was already in the room with them.
Mila looked uncertain. "It … it depends."
"Depends on what?" Dragan tried to shake Bruno and Serena awake, but it did no good.
She looked at him. "Aether, maybe?"
Shit.
Like she'd said, Aether could sometimes interfere with medicine, but this was ridiculous. Dragan was not dying because Bruno couldn't be bothered waking up. He tapped his hand against the worktop anxiously, hoping every second that Bruno would just open his eyes so they could get away.
There was a heavy thud from outside, and Dragan’s heart almost jumped out of his throat. He knew the sound of a ship landing when he heard it.
To hell with it, then.
He marched over to the bed, pushing a chair out of the way rather than walking around it, and pulled Bruno and Serena half out of the bed by their collar. Mila gasped, but he paid her no heed. It was do or die time.
Dragan turned Bruno and Serena’s head forcefully to the side, put his mouth as close to their ear as he could, and screamed:
"Dragan Hadrien here! Wake the fuck up!"
Bruno's eyes snapped open - yes, the look on his face was definitely Bruno - and he swung a clumsy, delirious fist at Dragan. With an Aether-infused hand, he easily batted the strike aside. Off-balance from the deflection, Bruno almost fell to the floor, bit Dragan caught him under the arm.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Pull yourself together," Dragan snapped. "We're in deep shit. We need to get out of here - now."
"W...wh…?" mumbled Bruno, not yet awake enough to form full sentences.
Dragan took in a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut - the combination of the situation and Bruno's irritating attitude was stressing him out like nothing else, but there was no time to be petty. He needed to communicate the situation quickly and get them out of there.
He opened his eyes.
"Skipper and Ruth are off-planet," he said, forcing Bruno to look at him so he could be sure he was understood. "A Special Officer just landed. They're looking for us. We need to get out of here."
Bruno's pupils - dilated from the stimulants - wavered for a moment, but then focus returned to them, and he nodded shakily.
"I … yeah, gotta move - we gotta move," he said, thoughts clearly still a jumble. "Gotta get out of here. Which way?"
"Huh?"
Bruno glared at him, irritation pulling him back into lucidity. "Which … which way are we going? Opposite of the enemy. Where have they landed?"
"Oh," said Dragan, nodding. He pointed in the vague direction of where the ship had been coming down. "They've landed right in the center of the encampment. Right, Mila?"
Mila nodded. "Right. Look, I - I need to get back, in case anyone gets hurt…"
"Go back, then," said Bruno, taking charge. "I … if we move in too big a group, we'll be more easily noticed. You head back first, then we'll make a break for it through the back into - ugh - into the grasslands."
Mila nodded again, then ran out of the tent. They heard her footsteps heading back in the direction of the ship.
"Give it a minute or two," slurred Bruno, sitting down in the chair for a moment, breathing heavily. "I need to … catch my breath."
Dragan turned on him, the stress coursing through his body like fire. "We can't just wait around!" he said. "Like I said, they're looking for us now! Get off your ass!"
Bruno went to snap something back, but Serena asserted herself instead. "Sorry, Mr. Hadrien," she said sadly. "But we're really tired. We don't feel so good."
Argh. He could yell at Bruno as much as he wanted, but with Serena it was like kicking a sad puppy.
"Look," he said, wiping a hand through his hair. "I understand. I get it. Yeah. It's just that this is a fairly time-sensitive situation, you know? We need to get out of here now."
"Right," said Bruno, grunting as he pushed himself out of his chair. "We go now."
He walked towards the entrance of the tent, staggering at first, but quickly regaining his balance. As he moved, he pulled two large sheets of black fabric from a pile of spare materials and tossed one to Dragan.
"Get yourself covered up," he said. "At the very least, they won't know one of us is which. They'll be more cautious before they attack if they're uncertain of their target."
Dragan thought of sending some sarcastic comment back, of trying to reassert control of the situation. But … despite how much he didn't care for Bruno, he couldn't deny that the asshole probably knew what he was talking about.
It was humiliating, but Dragan shut his mouth and did as he was told.
-
Aiden's teeth chattered as he watched the man march out of his ship, flanked on either side by a menacing-looking automatic.
The man was tall with spiky red hair, eyes concealed behind a pair of jet-black sunglasses. His body was tense with muscle, and he wore a sweeping red long-coat. He grinned widely, showing off his teeth. They were dyed black, so it was almost like there were sunglasses over his mouth as well.
But that wasn't the unusual thing about him. What was unusual were the man's arms: they were freakishly long, long enough that the fingers of his hands could drag themselves across the ground as he walked. Like an orangutan.
The man stepped in front of their group, marched right up to Helga.
"Howdy," the man said, voice gruff. "Special Officer Samael Ambrazo Zakos."
Helga glared up at him. "What do you want? The Supremacy has no business here. This planet has no legal owner. You have no jurisdiction here."
The Special Officer took a deep breath through his nose, as if restraining a sudden burst of anger. Then, he spoke with a seemingly easy smile.
"For now, for now," he said. "But we Special Officers are a special breed, right? You know that. Wherever we stand is our jurisdiction. That's the kind of will we have, you know. So saying things like 'you have no business here' is really just meaningless. You have to understand that, right?"
Helga blinked, clearly a little overwhelmed by the verbal assault that had just been unloaded on her. Aiden thought of speaking up, but his mouth wouldn't move - and neither would his legs, for that matter.
There wasn't anything he could do, anyway, so there was no point in saying anything. There wasn't anything cowardly about that. There wasn't.
The Special Officer leaned in just a little, towering over Helga with that grin on his face. "The man called Skipper. Ruth Blaine. Yakob del Sed. Dragan Hadrien. Where are they?"
Helga stared up into his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.
Zakos took another deep breath through his nose, his hands clenching into fists and tearing out two bundles of grass in the process. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, head angled up towards the sky.
"Take aim," he said - and the automatics flanking him suddenly pointed their arms towards Helga, the gun barrels protruding from their wrists glinting in the sunlight. A chorus of cries rang out from the crowd, and there was a scuffle as people tried to push past each other to move away.
Aiden stayed where he was, body locked into place by fear. The only motion he was capable of was chattering his teeth.
Move, he told himself desperately. She'll die! Say something! Do something!
He didn't move. He said nothing. He did nothing.
"Fire on three," said Zakos, sounding almost bored. Helga didn't budge. Plasma began to build up in the automatics' weaponry, each barrel producing a sinister orange glow. "One. Two. Thre -"
Helga stepped forwards, as if to say something, to whisper some plea. But before she could -
"Wait!"
The voice echoed out and Zakos raised a hand, pausing the movements of the automatics. The Special Officer looked towards the speaker. Aiden turned his head to the left, to look as well - the sound had originated from right beside him.
Dian stood there, ruined arm still contained in a cast bound to his chest. He was unsteady on his feet, but his glare towards Zakos was resolute.
"You have something to say to me?" the Special Officer said, raising an eyebrow.
Dian nodded. "Aye - they're here. The people you're looking for."
Zakos waved his hand, and the automatics lowered their arms. "Oh?" he said. "And where might they be?"
Helga looked at Dian, slowly shook her head while Zakos was looking away from her. Dian didn't seem to notice.
"The palace," Dian said, swallowing. His expression was firm. "The ruins, I mean. They're hiding out in there."
Zakos smiled, nodded at the lie. "I see, I see," he said softly. "Name?"
"Huh?'
"Your name!" Zakos shouted, eyes suddenly wide, spittle flying from his mouth. Helga visibly winced, and Dian took a cautious step back.
Aiden hadn't quite noticed it at first, but he realized now that over the last few minutes he'd gradually been moving his body away from Dian, trying to get as far away as possible. Shame and self-loathing bubbled up inside him, and he sniffled - which only made him feel more pathetic.
"Dian Mace," Dian said, standing straight, a peculiar kind of dignity to him. Even with a Special Officer staring angrily into his eyes, he didn't look away. He didn't even glance.
"Good man, Dian Mace," said Zakos, his voice suggesting nothing of the sort. "Go to that palace and tell them to come present themselves before me. Otherwise…"
He nodded his head towards the crowd. The message was clear.
"As you say," Dian said through clenched teeth, turning and beginning his walk towards the palace, the crowd moving aside to grant him passage. He began to ascend the hill towards the stone goliath.
Aiden could hardly breathe. What were they supposed to do? That lie would cover them for maybe five minutes, maybe five minutes - and once Dian came back empty-handed, they'd be back at square one. Half of the people the Special Officer was looking for weren't even here anymore anyway, so couldn't they just tell him that? Wasn't that the smart thing to do? He'd go look for them, and then they'd be safe. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die like this, helpless, and at the hands of someone who could erase him with barely any effort at all. It wasn't fair. They had to do something -
"Fire," said Zakos.
Aiden looked at him, a strangled squeak escaping from his throat. Helga simply screamed. Everything that unfolded in the next few seconds felt like a dream.
The automatics raised their arms again, pointed them towards Dian's shrinking back, and fired. Not just one shot, but a torrent of plasmafire. Dian looked back at the sound of the blasts, but it was too late.
One blast hit him on the chin, sending him crumpling down to the floor with a hideous cracking noise. Two more hit him in the chest as he fell, producing a smell like that of burning meat and fabric. Dian collapsed into a motionless pile.
But Zakos wasn't finished.
The blasts continued - an endless hail of them - and when the smoke cleared there was no corpse, only a smoking skeletal ruin, liquid meat flowing into the grass beneath it. The stink was … unbearable, and Aiden was unable to restrain the urge to vomit. He wasn't the only one.
Helga stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at what was left of Dian. Behind her, Zakos growled.
"Wait, he says? Fuckin' interrupting me?" he muttered, trembling with fury. "Fuckin' lying to me? I don't fuckin' think so. Fuckin' bullshit. Don't go lookin' down on me, you fuckin' corpse."
As he ranted, Aiden could see more figures emerging from the ship behind him - more automatics, totalling at least ten. They arranged themselves into a line behind their master.
"Fan out!" Zakos barked. "Search the camp! I want these bastards found! I want them dead!"