Trilia picked up a glass and threw it against the wall.
“That was mine!” shouted the burly Talpidarian sitting next to her. He paused, considering the wisdom of scolding the High Priestess. He may be the Champion in the arena, but he could be killed at a word from Trilia. “Your Holiness.”
She sneered at him. “Did you not hear the messenger? I just lost my raiders on Hittania!” The messenger stood in the doorway, knees shaking. He had not dared enter the dimly-lit banquet hall, filled with warriors and priests enjoying a feast after a night’s work in the arena. He didn’t want to be any closer to them or their weapons than necessity dictated. Delivering bad news to the High Priestess Trilia was not a task to be taken lightly.
He cleared his throat. “And, I’m afraid, my Lady, that the Republic was aided by Lady Rewna.”
“WHAT!?” raged Trilia.
“It’s the only reason we know about the matter so quickly, my Lady,” explained the messenger. “We have many sources on Astralbia and among Lord Wyven’s faction.”
Trilia rose from the table, standing to her impressive full height, an imperious look on her long, dour face. “Then go. Find out everything you can about this alliance, and who these… Drakmundi are.” She paced the room, looking out a window that overlooked the arena. “I believe it is time I had a conversation with them.”
***
The Bombard came out of its jump and landed as quickly as possible so that all hands could start work towards developing cages for the upcoming battle. All available private vessels were put to use as transports to evacuate civilians, including the refugees who had just recently come from Griffonia.
“Hopefully we’ll be able to head the Drakmundi off here,” Vanbrook said to Raivyn as they put a crate of hardware onto the back of the ATUC and headed back to the shuttle.
Reclan, having been a part of the group that worked out the defense in the first place, had cobbled together the Bombard’s defenses on the trip back. Now she was helping outfit the rest of the Griffonian Navy, and would start coordinating with the allied Navies as soon as that was done. The demand for hardware had outstripped what was available on the ships, and any available crew had been sent out to find what hardware they could from the warehouses and industries on Tra-Kirakna and beyond.
Since Talon Squad had a shuttle at its disposal, Vanbrook, Raivyn, Doc and D’Jarric had been sent to Tra-Trika, another rocky island city located a few hours flight from Tra-Kirakna. Tra-Trika was dominated by a mining facility and a number of factories, and they were more than willing to donate material to the cause. This island lacked the protective dome that Tra-Kirakna was known for, and the fresh, salty evening air cut through Vanbrook’s shirt as the ATUC rose and fell along with the windy, rocky road.
“Well, this is the last crate,” said Raivyn as they pulled up to where D’Jarric was waiting for them.
Vanbrook helped the Solaran pick up the crate, surprised by how little effort it took. He was still not convinced that D’Jarric was honest with them about his strength and ability.
“Hey DJ,” he said with a grunt as they set the crate down in the cargo hold. “Back when we first saw these Drakmundi guys you seemed pretty freaked out about it, at least by your standards. What was that about?”
A thoughtful look came over D’Jarric’s face as he locked the crate in place. “Do you recall the symbol of the Koomites?”
“Yeah,” said Vanbrook. “Koo L’Koom, biting his own tail.”
D’Jarric nodded. “Indeed. It is a symbol of chaos, one that is found far and wide, in many variations, as Raivyn noted at the time.”
“So do you think the Drakmundi and the Koomites are working together?” asked Vanbrook.
“I think there is a connection between them that they themselves may not realize,” said D’Jarric. “At least, not yet. But they are on the same side of a conflict greater than any mere international power struggle. Chaos is not merely the lack of order, though that is a common use of the word. Chaos is the rejection of the Progenitor’s ordering of the universe.”
“Well, I’ve been an agent of chaos a time or two myself, then,” said Vanbrook with a smirk.
“Indeed,” said D’Jarric, his face deadly serious. “We all have. But the Koomites, and perhaps the Drakmundi, have pursued after and embraced chaos. You have heard me talk before of the Solaran Civil War. That war was fought between two factions of Solarans: those who recognized the Progenitor’s power, and those who did not. Those who did not were defeated and relegated to their stars, now collapsed into black holes.”
“Are you suggesting black holes are not a natural phenomenon?” asked Raivyn, drawn into the conversation.
D’Jarric shrugged. “They serve a providential purpose, that does not mean the mechanism is unnatural. Regardless, my people declared victory, but we were warned: the forces of chaos were not defeated. As the Progenitor brought the other races into being, we were shocked to see how they treated one another. Chaos could be seen throughout their behavior. Knowing that our actions were responsible, at least in part, for the chaos still in the universe, we made efforts to bring the Progenitor’s Order to any civilizations we could find.”
“The ‘Great Teachings,’” said Raivyn. “Some of this has been long-known, but a lot of what you’ve said about chaos is not something I have ever heard before. Why are you sharing this now?”
D’Jarric looked off to the horizon, watching the twin suns setting over the great ocean of Kirakna. “I believe the time for secrets may be coming to an end. I believe chaos is beginning to reassert itself.”
***
“What’d you say, Darvik?” asked Krum-Bahk, walking around the corner.
Shocked by what he saw, he pulled up his rifle to fire on the Drakmundi beast soldier that stood about a yard away. Darvik darted over and pushed down on the barrel. Granted, Krum-Bahk could have pushed him out of the way given the added strength of his armor, but he took the gesture to mean he shouldn’t shoot the Drakmundi, and figured Darvik must have a reason.
“Hold your fire!” shouted Darvik, hoping that would be more clear than “don’t freak out.”
The beast soldier flinched at Darvik’s shout, but didn’t run off or attack.
“What is going on up there!?” demanded Grepk in a hoarse whisper, his fleshy joints fading to a sky blue when he saw the enemy standing in what amounted to their foyer.
One by one the Marines and agents rounded the corner and expressed some kind of shock or fear. Krum-Bahk wisely put himself between Keshri and the beast to keep her from attacking on sight, regardless of Darvik’s exhortations.
“What is going on?” hissed Trebor.
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“He- uh- reached out to me,” said Darvik. “He asked if I was a friend.”
“I sincerely hope you said ‘no,’” retorted Trebor.
“I said yes,” snarled Darvik. “Which may be the only reason my intestines are still inside of me. Look, as far as I know this is the first time one of these things has seen one of us and not immediately tried to murder them. Maybe we ought to try and work with that. I mean, bringing a beast soldier back for study was our initial goal, right?”
Trebor stared angrily at the beast. It met his gaze, but its face was a mask of stoicism.
“Hey- check that out,” said Creddik, pointing at the beast’s forehead. “The gem, it’s cracked. I think this is my beast soldier from a while back.”
He reached out telepathically, and found little of the resistance the other beast soldiers had put up. But the mind was familiar. Despite the initial ease of the mental invasion, an angry pulse of T-waves exploded from the Drakmundi’s mind, sending Creddik reeling. An array of rifles and pistols swung up, but the beast just sat there, shaking its head as if to rid itself of Creddik’s influence, glaring angrily at the mental invader.
“Well,” said Creddik, propping himself up on his elbows. “That’s definitely the same creature, but I swear it's more… aware now. Less of a beast, more of a person.”
“Doubtful,” scoffed Trebor. “But we’d better get it back to the Undercity either way. Darvik, you’re friendly with it, try to calm it down.”
Darvik shrugged, then tried to reach out, the way Glynn had taught him. Friends. Calm.
Supposedly, Raivyn had discovered the secret to full psychic communication that could overcome language barriers by studying under the shamans of Hruduk. He would have to rely on more rudimentary, impressionistic conversations.
Friend, replied the beast. Danger above.
Calm, repeated Darvik.
The beast’s posture shifted. He appeared to be calming down somewhat, and willing to try to talk. Trebor, however, had other plans. Moving extraordinarily quickly, he stabbed an injector into the softer tissue between the beast’s fingers. It was loaded with a massive dose of sedatives and designed to deliver the drug quickly, so the work was done before Trebor was flung across the cave by a backhanded slap across the torso. Trebor hit the ground hard and was groaning as the beast reared up and charged him. Once again, a cave full of agents and Marines had guns trained on it, but it slowed down well before it reached Trebor, stumbling and falling so that its form landed on top of Trebor in a heap. Trebor groaned.
“Serves you right,” said Darvik, feeling surly after witnessing the underhanded move.
Trebor eyed him darkly.
“Enough,” said Yellup. “Let’s just get our new friend back to the Undercity.”
“Agreed,” said Grepk. “I want him locked up tight before he comes to. I have a feeling he’s not going to be too happy.”
***
Farbin watched in glee as his new body emerged from the maw, piece by piece. It would be assembled shortly, and his brain would be grafted into the machinery.
To become a world serpent, a disciple of the great world serpent who coiled around the homeworld of the Drakmundi, was the greatest possible achievement for a herald. Perhaps one day he would even be invited to join the Council. Until then, he would orbit Griffonia, coordinating resource extraction and rooting out any remaining resistance from the locals.
“Herald Farbin,” said Commander Cenfil, interrupting his musings. “The scouts haven't found anything. The area is extremely craggy, making scans difficult. I can have them keep looking as long as you deem necessary, but I fear our beast soldier has disappeared on us.”
Farbin ground his teeth in frustration. The Council hadn't commented on the missing beast soldier yet, but they were sure to note it in the next report, if their sources in the field hadn't informed them already.
“Pull the scouts back,” he said. “I will level the area from orbit, and that will be the end of it.”
“Sir,” replied Cenfil. “It may be useful to bring the rogue soldier's body in for examination.”
“Then you are welcome to sift through the rubble to find it,” said Farbin. “Pull back the troops.”
***
Plates and cups were flung from tables in the cafeteria as a series of explosions rocked the Undercity. Some people screamed, and some ran, but Darvik just tried to keep from spilling his rakka.
“What’s that about?” asked Glynn, stabilizing herself against the table they were sharing.
“I’m not sure,” said Darvik.
The explosions stopped, the final rumbles fading away and leaving the populace of the Undercity looking around for answers.
“Attention Griffonians,” said a voice over the public comms. “It appears the Drakmundi have bombed a portion of the surface. At this time there is no indication of a further attack, and no structural damage has been reported. If you have been injured, please report to the medbay for treatment. If you cannot move, please call the medbay via comms. A thorough search of the Undercity will be made shortly to ensure personal and structural safety. All combat personnel, please report to Keep underlevels. All others may resume their normal activities. Thank you.”
“Well, I guess we’ll head back to the Keep, then,” said Darvik.
“You will,” said Glynn with a wry smile. “I’m not ‘combat personnel.’ I’m going to finish my rakka.”
He returned the smile, shook his head, and walked down the hall to the Keep. It wasn't far, and he met Krum-Bahk on the way.
“Hey, Darvik,” said the Krauqian.
“Oh, hey, Krum,” he answered. “Any idea what this is about?”
“No more than you, I imagine,” he answered.
They walked into the main atrium of the Keep’s lower levels, joining a bustling crowd of warriors.
“Thank you for coming,” said Skritka's voice over the comms. If he was in the room, Darvik couldn't see him. “All we know at this point is that the caves leading to the northern exit have collapsed.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “No other structural damage has been reported. I regret to inform you that Executor Grak-Yurp was badly injured in the attack, but rest assured that our command structure will remain unaffected. Please see your commanding officers for orders concerning a security sweep of the Undercity.”
“This is because of the prisoner, isn't it!?” shouted a soldier.
“Whether or not there is such-” started Skritka.
“It's too small a hole you've got us in to keep secrets!” interrupted the soldier.
The crowd went silent. The burly Human soldier looked around, suddenly sheepish. Darvik saw the crowd parting as Skritka approached the man, hands clasped behind his back. Evidently he was in the room then, a headset on so that his voice was broadcast through the building's comms. Despite being a good foot shorter than the soldier, Skritka held himself with a bearing that made his prey look small.
“If I am responsible for your being in this hole, you should be far more grateful,” he said in a dangerously level voice. “We are all under stress, and I need every soldier I can get. However, that is no reason to let your insubordination slide. I'm sure your commanding officer can find an assignment for you to throw yourself into for a while. Perhaps somewhere deep and dark enough that when you get out the Undercity won't feel like such a hole.”
“Yes, sir,” said the soldier, clearly embarrassed and already kicking himself for his outburst.
“You have your orders, then,” said Skritka, addressing the room again. “Go, protect our people. And may Providence shine on us all.”
***
Admiral Hunt breezed through the reports as the Wingspan made its slow orbit around Kirakna with the rest of the Blue Griffon Fleet. Every fleet had its own patrol to make around the planet in case the Drakmundi got clever and tried to flank them, but the bulk of the force stayed just beyond orbit in the direction of Griffonia, the region the Drakmundi would most likely emerge from.
In addition to the half dozen Griffon Republic fleets, there was a Wabuluban fleet of two massive gunships and a carrier, an FRF fleet that included their flagship destroyer the Liberty, and Lady Rewna’s fleet of three star trees which had formed a combined fleet with the Drihn. The entire armada was equipped with the cage shields the engineers had worked out. Hunt just wished they’d have a chance to test them before heading into a full-scale battle.
“All ships, this is the Red Shield Fleet flagship Keel,” said a voice over the armada’s comm channel. “Something’s appeared on our scanners. The energy signatures match the Drakmundi. All ships should report to assigned positioning. May Providence shine on us all.”
Hunt shook himself to loosen up a bit and sent a response to the Keel to let them know they were on their way. Looked like it was time to figure out whether the cages worked or not.