A series of small listening posts were situated across Impellia III. Much of the planet was covered in forest, tall and twisting trees that rooted deep into the earth. Baublefruits, as the New Ludayans had taken to call them, grew from the trees, though they were bitter and poisonous to most sapients. These baublefruit trees were the primary flora on the planet, with variations and subspecies making up the rest, and the only animals that ate them were a variety of insectoid animals, the largest the size of a small pony. The majority of these, too, were poisonous, due to the fact that they ate the bark and fruits of the long, winding trees.
A planet that would be difficult to colonize, if that had been the New Ludayans' goal. But it had not been. Instead, the metahumans of New Ludaya were content to pepper the planet with listening posts. Two metahumans, both Warriors, were assigned to each one, and they connected to one another in a network of lonely sensor arrays.
For when the time came.
Pocket and Iceformed manned the outpost closest to the Traveling Point, and that afforded them the ability to travel to New Ludaya proper at the end of their shifts. They were lucky, in that regard – other Warriors located on Impellia III lived their shifts at their listening posts, cycling out every two weeks.
Under usual circumstances, they waited by the Traveling Point, or at the forest's edge, radio always in hand.
But it was by luck that they were at their own outpost when the message came through. Each listening post was built in the same way – a squat, squarish building, with a room dedicated to a large sensor array, the other for two cots and a mobile kitchen.
Iceformed was at the sensor array. Pocket was smoking a cigarette outside. Analyza had tried getting her to quit, but as of late boredom had been taking over Pocket's life. There was little to do out here save for scanning and making idle chatter, and Iceformed was not one for small talk.
So she sat outside, and took a drag of the cigarette. The smoke curled as she exhaled.
And Iceformed emerged, looking at her with frozen-crystal eyes.
“Message,” they said, “Encrypted.”
“On it,” Pocket said.
She joined them inside, sitting down at one of the two chairs in the room. The sensor array took up the majority of the three walls, all flashing lights and black consoles and electric fans to prevent overheating. The metahuman pressed a few buttons at one of the keyboards.
“From Point Achulos,” she said to Iceformed, “Detection near the ninth planet. Might be a ghost.”
“I'm going to set up a call,” Iceformed said, and they pressed a key, brought a microphone to their mouth, “Point Achulos, this is Point Armagest, over.”
Silence for a few moments.
“Point Armagest, Point Achulos acknowledges,” the voice was Serendipper's, “Small warp signature located near the ninth planet in the system, over.”
“Point Achulos, confirming with Point Omperstellicad and Point Hyzodriad, over,” Iceformed said.
Pocket took a shuddering breath, and began to configure the sensor array for nearer waves. Warp signatures were nigh-undetectable at a certain range, and a scan by Point Achulos would have been the mere afterimages of whatever ghost was carving its way through the stars.
“Point Armagest,” the voice came from Tinny Five-Eyes, at Point Omperstellicad, “This is Point Omperstellicad. Picking up warp signature close to planet-side.”
“This is Point Hyzodriad,” now here was Morten's voice, a muscular metahuman with a bison's head, “We're triangulating...”
Iceformed and Pocket exchanged looks. She stood up, walked out the door, climbed up to the listening post’s roof. As she did so, she began to open up the slits on her arms. True to her name, each slit on Pocket's body led to a small pocket dimension. She carried an entire menagerie of random materials and items from her travels in the multiverse.
Lens.
A scope.
A tripod.
She built the telescope, then and there, and set it on the roof. She could hear Iceformed through the open door, and if she strained, she could hear the others too, through the crackling radio.
“All points,” Morten said, “This is Point Hyzodriad. Picking up a starship warping in planetside. Coordinates 114, 118, 110, 129.”
She started adjusting the telescope to aim at the sky.
“It's a warbird,” Tinny Five-Eyes said, “By Pelliad, it's a godsdamn warbird.”
“All points, easy now,” Iceformed said, “Can we get confirmation, Point Omperstellicad?”
“I'm-I'm sure,” Tinny Five-Eyes said, “Older model, but it's a warbird, over.”
“Any others, over?” This now came from Point Hmpatu. The voice was Ella Burning's.
“No, just the one, o-over,” Tinny Five-Eyes replied.
Pocket looked through the telescope. Turned it this way and that, until she was looking at the coordinates.
Aye, there it was. Like a fell crescent moon, shining like silver and already releasing drones and fighters from its hangar bays. The ship's name was emblazoned in High Speech on its hull, but she could not make it out.
She did not need to.
“All points, it's the Sovereign Melody,” Morten said, “All points, this is not a drill. Guild Pagan Chorus is here. The High Federation is here.
“The time has come.”
She was already putting the telescope away, and now taking out parts to form a heavy rifle. She slid back off of the roof and landed next to the door. Iceformed was firing off frantic messages to the other listening points.
“All Points, this is Point Omperstellicad,” Tinny Five-Eyes sounded on the verge of a panic attack, “I don't know how, but they're flying overhead. We're preparing to engage, I r-repeat, we're-”
She screamed. There was the sound of a distant explosion. The line crackled.
And then went dead.
“I'm going to New Ludaya,” she said, “I've got to warn people.”
“Do so,” Iceformed said, “We're not going to hold out here.”
She stepped out of the building. Heard more news coming in from the other listening posts. The High Federation was silencing them, one at a time.
A quick response. Pagan Chorus had at least a few magicians. People to teleport them down. That, or perhaps they were using some rediscovered technology to get planetside quickly.
(Or, perhaps, both.)
***
Listening Point Omperstellicad had been obliterated during the battle.
Tinny Five-Eyes kept all but one of her eyes closed at all times. When all five were opened, she unleashed a horrendous beam of pure light at whatever she looked at. With but a glance, she had cut through the wing of fighters that had suddenly appeared overhead.
But she was not prepared for those guildfolk already on the ground. Rhunea's spell had brought down a small team of Pagan Chorus special forces. Led by Kathen Aru, who took aim with his modified sniper rifle. A bullet to the stomach doubled Tinny Five-Eyes over, and another to the shoulder sent her spinning, the beams from her eyes cutting through the listening post and the occupant still within.
She had annihilated the small building by the time she expired. The light did not leave her eyes until she took her final breath, and then it petered out, washing to the ground like spent plasma, pooling in puddles like rain and evaporating completely.
She had cleared away the forest around her.
Kathen stepped out, breathing heavily. Rhunea and the others joined him.
“Other teams are having worse luck,” Merry Curiosity said, “I'm reporting from Truthspeaker that other outposts are more prepared for us.”
Kathen swallowed.
He tried not to look at the body of the metahuman, alone in the ashes of her own destruction. In the far distance, they heard more explosions and bangs, the loud dundundun of plasma fire.
“Kathen,” Merry said, “I'm getting orders, we're to assist Team Beta.”
“Explains the explosions,” Kathen said. He turned to Rhunea, “You ready for another jump?”
The doe-headed magician nodded. She was carrying her staff in one hand, carved from yew and with crystalline flowers jammed into the top. She twirled it 'round, whispering words, and for a moment the air smelled sweet and lovely.
And then she slammed the staff into the ground, and Kathen felt the familiar jerking in the stomach that came with her method of teleportation. The wind picked them up, and they were sent away, towards another part of Impellia III.
They landed near the clearing that the listening post was situated in. Bodies littered the forest floor, Pagan Chorus operatives who had been seared through by piercing spears of flame. The metahuman responsible was taking cover in the building itself, which itself was riddled with bright blue plasma stains.
Dicaeopolis greeted them, signaled for them to keep quiet. Pointed towards the forest around them.
One of the metahumans was stalking them.
So, two, then.
Kathen removed the scope from his rifle, unlatched the elongated muzzle and replaced it with a shorter one. Now with a more general rifle in hand, he signaled for the others to join him as they started skirting around the clearing's perimeter. He saw the metahuman through the open door, fire curling around her fingertips.
He aimed the rifle-
And the metahuman flicked her fingers. The fire grew and lanced off towards his team. Kathen took cover behind one of the trees, as did Rhunea. Two of the operatives were not so lucky, as the spears ran straight through them, ignoring their combat armor, sending them flying back with the blow.
They did not get up.
Mage and protege looked to one another. Now they understood why Dicaeopolis was having trouble-
The second metahuman leaped down from one of the trees, some horrifying, two-headed ape that screamed as it fell on top of one of the other operatives, who collapsed under the creature's weight.
“Rhunea, cover me!” Kathen roared, “Watch the other one!”
Rhunea spun and pointed her staff at the building, sending a wave of heated spring at the fire-using metahuman. At the same moment, Kathen pressed a button on his wristband, and a three-tailed plasma whip emerged from the band on his arm. He cracked it at the two-headed ape, who screeched as it scored against his shoulder, nearly severing the arm completely. Kathen spun, lashing it against one of the metahuman's throats. One of the heads rolled limp, and the ape leaped at Kathen-
One for lightning to pierce through the ape's form. Dicaeopolis's magic. The satyr grinned-
And fire roared towards him. He took cover, the spear grazing a few hairs from his balding head, but it was enough for Rhunea and a few operatives to open fire on the building.
Kathen caught his breath, before hunkering down as more flaming lances rocketed in answer to Pagan Chorus's assault, nailing another one of his guildmates in the head.
This had to end.
He took out a grenade, bit off the pin, and threw it. His aim was true, and it clattered through the open door.
A moment later, the fire-using metahuman ran out the listening post, sending out more fire to cover her escape.
But it wasn't enough.
Pagan Chorus opened fire. Dicaeopolis and Rhunea's spellwork mixed with plasma fire. The metahuman went down riddled with burn marks and holes.
A second later, the grenade went off, destroying the sensor array inside.
There was only fire and the heavy breathing of the survivors. Kathen rose to his feet, his heart still pounding as he looked at the metahuman's remains.
“Clear!” he called out.
And he stepped out into the clearing. The plasma whip receded back into his wristband. Merry Curiosity was peppering him with readouts, the results of the other raids, High Federation attacks that had quickly bloomed into dozens planetside.
“They're indicating that they're doing a scan for a Traveling Point,” his AI said, “Population here is only a few dozen metahumans, spread out over the plane. Not exactly the giant population we'd expect.”
He thought about the recent battle, noted the corpses of his guildmates. He had never spoken to any of them, he realized. The disadvantage of being in a guild as large as Pagan Chorus meant that you only remembered so many faces. He had his immediate guildmates, such as Dicaeopolis and Rhunea, Valm and Antular, the endless company of Merry Curiosity.
But Pagan Chorus was its own army. And many of them, Kate realized, were faceless to him.
(As was Valm's intent.)
Rhunea nearby was giving last rites to the fallen, metahuman and guildfolk alike. She whispered sad words to each of them in the tongue of her home plane, soothing and dancing. For her guildmates, she sent them on their way, up to wherever the First Men had gone, as was spoken in the religious texts of the High Federation, that those who served the Federation met the blessed Alu'eer at the end of their lives.
For the metahumans, and her words were quieter, to the point that Kate could hardly hear them, she begged apologies.
He leaned against one of the spiraling, bauble-glowing trees.
Already, this phase was almost over.
***
High above, the Sovereign Melody was beginning to endure its way through Impellia III's atmosphere. Warbirds such as she were designed for both planetside and interstellar operations, and as such she had no problem as flames bloomed across her hull, shuddering and rumbling. The bridge was alive with the paradoxical slowness and intensity of guiding warfare. Crewmembers were at each station, sending out orders, operating sensor arrays, ensuring that the descent to the blighted planet below was smooth and controlled. Guildmaster Valm sat on the upraised seat at the bridge's center, a holographic projection of the planet in front of him, readouts showing the results and news of each of the raids that his guildmates were conducting. Old Scar stood at attention to the Voskian's right, his jaw clenched and a vein pulsing on his temple.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
For he had wanted to go down there himself, and have himself a Mutt-killing.
But no, he was to protect Valm himself, in case there was a metahuman with an unanticipated power that put them in danger.
“Most teams are reporting in,” one of the crewmates said, “Initial sweep is almost finished.”
“Good,” Valm said, “Any runners?”
“...Runners, sir?” the crewmate asked.
“There are always runners,” Valm said, “Lookouts, scouts, those who return to the main community to warn them. In most cases, this is what we want, as it leads us right to where they're hiding.”
He leaned forward.
“In this case, however, we already will know where the Traveling Point will be. In a few minutes, at least. The element of surprise must be on our side.”
“Like picking a needle out of a haystack, sir,” Old Scar gruffed.
“Indeed,” Valm said, “Etnoka, have you managed to find the Traveling Point?”
“Yes, guildmaster,” Etnoka said, and three stalk-hanging eyes turned to the Prime Voice, “Pinning it to your map now.”
There. A small circle identified the Traveling Point's location, in the forests on the southern continent. Valm looked at it.
“Lifesigns indicate a few metahumans still alive there, only one of which is close enough to the Traveling Point for a jump,” Etnoka said, “Giving you a list of squadrons nearby.”
A list appeared next to the planet on Valm's hologram. He looked it over.
“Send Bluebell's team,” he said, “Kill that metahuman. Make it quick. And then into the wolf's den we go.”
***
There was a sudden smell in the air that Pocket was not familiar with.
She was running through the forest, towards the Traveling Point in the clearing. She was not sure what had happened to Iceformed, but she had heard explosions behind her as she left. No doubt the Federation had hit their location. Maybe wiped it off the map.
Her heart pounded as she at once noted shapes behind the trees. Figures in combat armor and closed helmets, plasma rifles in hand. Federation forces.
She had been in similar situations before. And she had the right tools to defend herself. A menagerie of plasma and kinetic weaponry. And a stealth device, a Fedtek piece, that she pulled from a pocket on her wrist and clicked. The air around her warbled, and she slunk down.
And she was hidden, hiding behind a baublefruit tree, and now the Federation soldiers had stopped their pursuit and were now hunting for her, slow and laborious, wolves to flush out a rabbit in the grass.
Someone new joined them. A blue-scaled, Dragon-like man in burgundy robes. He carried a simple walking stick in hand, though the top of it was bobbed with a glowing salt-colored crystal.
A guildfolk.
So, then, this was Pagan Chorus. Prime Voice Valm's pack of hounds. His own personal militia. Pocket tried to steady the rapid beats of her heart as she moved away from the bulk of the Pagan Chorus squad, slinking towards the clearing with the Traveling Point.
She could see a ship dropping downwards like a sharpened stone. The warbird. Soldiers would secure the Traveling Point soon, and then Pocket would be cut off from New Ludaya. She would be hunted here, like Iceformed and the rest.
That could not happen. The stealth module was still active, but it only had so much power and only held to so much scrutiny. Already she could see the Draconic guildfolk sniff the air, and his eyes fell on her, or close to her, she was not sure.
“Go time,” she whispered.
She was just on the edge of the forest now. Could see the slight wave in the air that was the Traveling Point. Pocket's slits opened up, and she produced a few pieces of combat armor that she slapped onto her arms and legs, a chest piece that bound itself to her chest. A helmet, one she had taken from a Federation soldier years and years ago, though she had shattered the glass visor before ramming a pistol into the Feddie's mouth.
She wore it, and it stank the copper stink of the Utomian's blood.
The rest of her pockets opened up at key points of her body. Rifles and pistols emerged, rigged to fire at a thought. A unique quirk of her metahuman ability, one that had taken her years to perfect.
It was the one that had won her the right to be a Warrior, and not a Worker.
Another deep breath.
Now the blue-scaled guildfolk was pointing at her. A spell began shining from his staff. His maw began sizzling and spitting with acid breath.
She sprinted. And opened fire at the same moment. She released a dance of plasma fire and kinetic projectiles, bullets and arrows and small, sharpened stones that exploded on impact, an effort to distract her Pagan Chorus pursuers.
And, for the most part, it worked, as a few of them gasped in shock as they were hit and downed.
All, save for the reptilian guildfolk. He took off on leathery wings, flying high over the forest's clearing. His spell had been interrupted by Pocket's assault, but acid still bubbled in his mouth.
He unleashed it, a thunderbolt line of green-laced agony.
Pocket noticed it almost too late. She leaped out of the way, acid cratering into the ground at the spot she had been standing, flecks of the stuff stinging her chest armor, flicking onto her cheeks and burning. She grimaced, almost stumbled as she hit the ground, and then kept running.
With a leap, she was through the Traveling Point. The guildfolk, high above, shook his head.
***
“I apologize, guildmaster,” Bluebell said, “I was not able to secure the kill.”
“Quite alright, Bluebell,” Valm said, “She seemed to be a slippery one. It is no great concern, not when we make our initial assault.”
“Are you sure?” Bluebell asked.
Valm nodded.
“I am,” he said, “Secure the Traveling Point with your team. Kill anyone who emerges from it.”
“Understood, guildmaster,” Bluebell said.
The Sovereign Melody was directly over the Traveling Point now. Through the ship's cameras, Valm could see Bluebell circling the clearing, his guildmates running to secure a perimeter. There were still a few raids ongoing. A few teams had not reported in. That was to be expected, however.
What mattered to Valm was that Kathen's team was alright, and that he had succeeded in both of the raids Valm had given him.
“Alright,” he said, “Recall teams one through eighteen. Then, we go through.”
***
It was late in the night when Pocket jumped through the Traveling Point at New Ludaya.
And the air had shifted, she noted. She had not been able to return to the plane for a few days.
Something had happened.
Campfires littered the grounds outside Mt. Redress. Warriors were positioned around the Traveling Point, but instead of looking towards the portal, they were staring down at the flames at the mountain’s base. Protestors, Workers who had finally gone on an extended strike for some reason. Indeed, they almost looked surprised as Pocket, breathless and shaking, emerged.
One of them she recognized. Quail of the Feathers approached her as Pocket turned, taking aim at the Traveling Point.
“They're here,” Pocket said, “Warn everyone, they're here.”
She turned back to note Quail's hesitation.
“...The hell are you doing?” Pocket said, “The High Federation is here, damn you! The time's come, tell the Council, now!”
Quail jumped as though shaken from a stupor. At once she was sending out orders to the other Warriors guarding the Traveling Point. One of them disassembled into dozens of flying paper airplanes and took off to warn the various sectors of New Ludaya.
Pocket took a deep breath. No one was coming out of the Traveling Point. No one had followed her.
But she knew they would come streaming in. Any moment…
***
The message came to Luminary as she was in the Council chamber. The only person still inside here was Pauldros the Stonemaker, who had taken this place as his own personal room. He sat in the corner, almost as though trying to make himself smaller, the way that he slumped and squirmed, his knees tucked into his chest, his feet scrabbling against the stone floor. Cornered by his own guilt and shame.
Luminary ignored this as she listened to Mister Meaning's report.
“As it is, Memoire's still somewhere within Mt. Redress,” her right hand said, “Looks like she's been able to avoid Lord Freak's hunt for her rather well.”
“We should recall him soon,” Luminary said, “Send other people after her. He's good, but I need him for other projects.”
“He won't be too happy,” Mister Meaning said.
“Oh, I'm well aware,” Luminary said, “But the needs of the nation come before the needs of the self.”
She rubbed her eyes. It was late, and she had gotten very little sleep.
“What news of Dorucanthos?” she asked.
“Still no response,” Mister Meaning said, “A group of Workers are picketing his manor, however. No one's really accosted him directly.”
“That will change,” Luminary said, “As long as the Oshya:de are still here, they will get angrier and angrier...”
She sighed.
“We need to get this resolved. And quickly,” she said.
“No easy way to do that,” Mister Meaning said, “It's not like we can do what we did before. I think our hold on the Warriors is already tenuous at best. Half of them would revolt if we told them to finish what we started.”
Luminary nodded at that.
And, at that moment, the paper airplane fluttered down from above. It opened up in front of Luminary, who read it.
Once.
Twice.
No, it was not possible.
It was far too soon.
Fear filled her veins as she looked up at Mister Meaning.
“The damn Federation's here,” she said, “Get everyone up. Wake them up, now.”
Meaning made no quip. No sarcastic remark. He was all business and cold ice as he ran out of the room at once, calling for the Warriors to assemble. There was a tremor in his voice she hardly heard from him.
“Alright,” she said, and her hands were shaking, “We're ready for this. We've been ready for this.”
She looked to Pauldros. The Stonemaker had stopped his fidgeting. Was looking at her with a forlorn, lost expression.
“Stonemaker,” Luminary said, “I have need of you.”
He did not respond.
Through muted stone walls, she could already hear Warriors assembling and moving out.
“We will need your abilities,” Luminary said, “To protect Mt. Redress.”
“They didn't call it that,” Pauldros said.
Luminary's mouth became a thin line.
“Our people are in danger,” she said, “Defend us, as you so promised.”
Pauldros rolled his eyes.
But there was truth in Luminary's words. There were the Workers who protested outside of the mountain, and they would be the first to be butchered.
“Get everyone inside,” he said, “Workers too. Even those who disagree with us.”
He rose.
Rested a hand against the stone. Took a deep breath, in and out. And when his eyes opened they were pupil-less.
The entire mountain began to ripple. The ceiling to the Council chambers closed up with stone.
“The time has come,” he said, and his voice was hollow.
***
A paper airplane flew to the Warriors all over the plane. To specific bases that had been set up on New Ludaya.
And, since many Warriors were sympathetic to the plight of the Oshya:de, one of the airplanes came down to the sandstone tower. Tallneck picked it up, read over it with a craned neck. He began to hyperventilate as he handed it to Becenti.
The older metahuman read it once. Twice.
And Tallneck began to sob. Shuddering horrid sobs. The others in the room looked at Becenti as he absorbed the news. The moon high above cast its glow, and had become the only source of light in the room.
“What is it?” Kehaulani asked, “What's wrong?”
“The Federation is here,” Becenti said, “They're on the other side of the Traveling Point now.”
Silence.
Still, Tallneck's fearful tears.
“I need-” Kehaulani said, “I need to find my husband. My baby.”
“Go,” Becenti said, “Scatter to the wind.”
Already Kehaulani was leaving. A few other metahumans went with her. Rainbowfish glanced out the window, to the direction of Mt. Redress, which rose darkly on the horizon. He could see the campfires from here, littering the mountainside. He knew that more were at the mountain's base, those Workers who were protesting the Council.
So many people...
“I should go,” he said, “Get people out of the way there.”
“Do so,” Becenti said.
Other metahumans peeled from the Worker's town. Word was spreading quickly. A few metahumans took off into the air, to spread the news, to help organize defense.
Becenti, however, merely watched through the window. His hands shook.
The only way off of New Ludaya was through the Traveling Point.
But Impellia III had no spaceport. It had a few lonely cargo ships that New Ludayans used to smuggle in weapons, but there was not nearly a large enough fleet to carry the entire population away.
And the gate to Bloodrun was gone. Destroyed.
This place was a death trap.
***
The letter also arrived at Amoeboy's commune. He passed it around.
Already, high above, the flying Warriors loyal to Luminary were being recalled. Leafy and the flaming metahuman retreated towards Father Mountain.
“They're here,” Lunus Oculus whispered.
She had just finished reading the letter to Tekahentakwa and Hadawa'ko. The two Oshya:de exchanged glances, looking out towards the horizon. They could barely make out Father Mountain from here, but there was a sickening feeling in the pit of their stomachs. Cobalt Joe was pacing as he watched the news flow over the Workers and the Oshya:de. There was already a controlled panic among the crowd, mostly among the metahumans. Lived-in experiences and traumas resurfaced. Already a few of them were running away, towards the forests.
“This place is over-exposed,” Joe said, “That plan we had, of spreading out? We should do that.”
There was a distant boom.
“We should do that now,” he said.
***
“Get away from the Traveling Point!” someone called out, “Get away!”
Pocket and the other Warriors did so, skipping down the mountain. The Traveling Point was starting to shudder. Something was forcing its way in. The air around the Traveling Point resisted. But then it cracked. Whatever was coming through, it was far too large for the Traveling Point to naturally allow in.
And then the reality around the cliff's edge shattered. The warbird spilled out, forcing itself forward, its thrusters burning deep plasma stains into the mountain's side.
The mountain responded in turn. As did Warriors. Fire and ice and lightning and blades fired off from the skies, from the ground. Those Workers at the base of Mt. Redress retreated into the forest as the warbird turned and began to ascend upwards, as metahuman power struck its shields, which absorbed and rebounded each and every blow…
***
“Lifesigns all over the plane, guildmaster,” Etnoka said, “Thousands upon thousands.”
“Well, what do you know,” Valm said, “They are a nation, real and true.”
“Every dog has its day,” Old Scar muttered.
“Indeed,” Valm said, and he scratched the arm of his chair in thought as the Sovereign Melody ascended higher and higher, away from the reach of most of the New Ludayans below.
“Fire on the mountain,” the Prime Voice said, “Send them a message.”
***
There was a few minutes of panic. Of screams and cries as metahumans dispersed into the forest, or retreated into the mountains. Mt. Redress itself opened up, sculpting missiles of stone that aimed towards the night sky. The warbird could be seen backdropped against the moon, crescent against wax.
Light began to pull away from the torch sconces. From the floating will o' the wisps in the forests, from the campfires the Workers had been using. They melded into arrows. Luminary's power, spread out across the vicinity of the mountain, though it was to her great strain. She was in her personal rooms, looking out the window at the expanse of New Ludaya, sweat beading her temples and matting down her whispery hair as she concentrated. The light was pulling itself into a ball.
Pauldros was in the Council room still, and his breathing was labored and heavy as he forced his will on the mountain, shaping the stone into weapons and armor.
His earthen spears rocketed upwards towards that blight of the moon.
And, at the same moment, a hail of plasma fire rained down. Large globules, beams of energy, though the light from the attacks were pulled at once by Luminary's power.
The Sovereign Melody's assault carved through the mountains. Set the forests ablaze. Metahumans died screaming, melting and burning as bolts the size of houses rained down upon them and the forest.
Children were calling out for their mothers. A boy was pulling his brother's remains from the wreckage of one of the cottages in the woods, the forest burning around him. He would not survive the night.
A man with overlong arms had wrapped them around the bisected body of his niece. She had been his only family here, the last vestige the man had of his sister, who had been killed on the way to paradise.
One of the teachers was holding a girl in one of her manta ray, wave-like arms. The girl had been flying with her father when the warbird had appeared overhead. The man, whose wings were like a white bat's, was nowhere to be seen, and the girl had lost one of her indigo bird's wings, along with her right arm and right leg. She was delirious as the teacher carried her, metahumans screaming all around the two of them as they pushed towards one of the cracks in the earth, a hidden spot to escape the worst of the Federation's barrage.
And through it all, as metahumans screamed and wept and died, Luminary concentrated, pulling the light from each beam of energy from the warbird high above. The mountain coiled and shifted, repairing every crater, every strike, every blow against Mt. Redress, as Pauldros pulled up earth from the deepest parts of New Ludaya to cover up each injury, like a child shoring up a sand castle against the crashing waves.
And then, amidst the storm, she opened her eyes, let out a cry, and the orb of light shot off towards the warbird.
For a moment, she was worried that she had missed. But the light was hers to control, and she had hit smaller targets before, from a greater distance.
There was a boom high above as the warbird shuddered.
Luminary slumped, her head spinning.
And the rain of plasma ceased.
***
The Sovereign Melody became a place of controlled chaos. The warbird lurched as it moved away from Mt. Redress, northwards towards the plains. There was little visible damage to the ship itself, and yet energy crackled across her hull.
“One shot,” Valm muttered, “One shot, and they took out the shields.”
“And they'll be gone for a while,” the weapons op said, “Whatever that hit was, it was almost equivalent to a full barrage from a rival warbird.”
“They absorbed most of the light from our attack,” Valm said, and he thought for a few moments, “Old Scar, who does that remind you of?”
“Luminary,” and Old Scar grimaced, “Thought we killed her during the war.”
“Unfortunately, not,” Valm said.
There was no second volley from the metahumans below. The mountain still stood. He should have deployed a glassmaker, obliterated the entire thing. No doubt there were many metahumans inside.
He had used a gentle hand.
(The forests below burned with no sign of being put out.)
“Retreat for now,” Valm said, “When will our shields be online again?”
“Not sure,” the weapons op said, “Hours. That was a heavy hit, and it overloaded the systems. The Sovereign Melody's an old bird, guildmaster.”
Valm nodded.
“Of course,” he said, “Well, get to work on it. It looks like these Mutts get to live another day.”