The Jellyfish flitted through the air, and the ape-lizard did its best to track its movement with the energy beam it shot towards it.
“How much power is that beast generating in order to support that attack?” he asked, not even expecting an answer.
“About as much as a ship, by my estimation,” Jennifer said, “you’d need infrastructure to produce that kind of energy, and a lot of stored etherium. And that would just be for a one-and-done sort of deal.”
“What the fuck are we doing here?” Shane muttered to himself. Skyhold was a horror show. No living creature had any right to be that powerful. He cursed again as the Jellyfish occluded their view of the ape-lizard, and he barely evaded the beam of energy following the damned creature.
But the jellyfish hadn’t been as lucky. The beam had grazed it. It rushed its enemy, its tentacles acting as a net as it tried to pull the creature off of its feet.
The guardian avatar bit through one tentacle. The jellyfish spasmed and instead of grappling with the creature, its tentacles stabbed through its flesh.
Then it glowed.
“I’m getting out of here!” Shane yelled. He turned the shuttle around and accelerated as much as he could. The sky was then lit, the clouds turning blue and purple. Brighter and brighter, until a pure, brilliant white light drowned the colour out.
Then it shut off, and Shane had to blink away afterimages.
His copilot swore.
“What?” he asked.
“The A-Class is still standing,” Sanders said.
“You mean the Jellyfish, right?” he asked, fingers crossed, knowing it was a mistake to ask as soon as the words left his mouth.
Optimism was always a mistake. Sometimes it was fatal.
“No,” she said, her voice low, “the Jellyfish is gone, sir.”
“Of course,” he said. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.
“But it did damage. It looks like it sacrificed itself. The Ape-lizard’s skin has all but dissolved from its upper body. It’s losing so much blood. Shit, it’s looking right at us. I’m transmitting this footage back to the Ambition, the need to see this.”
Shane engaged evasive maneuvers, but he knew it was futile. If that creature could get a beam off, it would have no trouble tracking them. They were nowhere near as fast as the other guy that had just tried to kill it.
“Fuck, I think it’s charging its energy again. It’s glowing from within. I can see the light coming from in between its muscle fibers.” Sanders said, “We have to—”
----------------------------------------
“That’s all we know, sir. The transmission cut off after the energy beam intercepted the shuttle,” Captain Smith said.
The few men and women around the bridge were silent, apart from the bridge staff who were hard at work, keeping the ship running.
“Did they survive?” Trey asked, already fearing that he knew the answer.
“The limited visuals we could get imply a significant chance that the entire shuttle was obliterated,” Captain Smith said.
Guard Captain Niklaus tsk’d and grumbled to himself. Trey knew it was a coping mechanism. The man was distancing himself from any of the negative emotion that might distract them during this crisis. Bell was away, attending to a problem with his men. That left himself, Smith, and Niklaus to lead everyone to safety.
That meant little at this point. All they could do now was wait and pray.
“I want all the names on a list. Everyone who has died here. I want them immortalized. Etched into the hardest material we can find, and set right in the centre of the colony.”
The Guard Captain nodded.
“Is the creature still heading towards the outpost?” Trey asked.
“Yes, sir,” Captain Smith said, pointing to a map he had loaded up on his tablet. A red pin on the screen showed where the guardian avatar’s position. It was still miles from the outpost, and as far as they could tell, it was walking steadily towards them. It seemed to know the layout of the land, avoiding obstacles like hills and mountains. Trees, boulders, and other creatures served as no significant impediment to its progress.
It marched forward, its gaze unwavering and always straight ahead. Its eyes seemed dead, unmoving — or so focused that they were unwavering, but Trey got the impression that there was no individual will left in the creature. It was as if it was just a puppet, controlled by etheric strings. Any other creature would be dead after having received the same injuries that the parasite’s guardian avatar had. Trey hoped more than ever that Gideon and Hunter’s research regarding the use of Drawstones for cultivating etherium would bear practical fruits soon. Technology could only bridge the gap for so long; what was the upper limit of what was possible for a creature who had been so deeply altered by etherium? How many more beasts with the power of an A-Class were out there, scattered around the local worlds?
And what of the people, the civilizations with individuals who could match this kind of abomination, blow for blow?
They needed a more powerful weapon in order to combat this type of threat. He wondered if he should let Hunter’s mind run wild, unbound by the needs of the colony. What would the boy be able to do if he had a devoted team? Who else could study these deeper mysteries? Maybe Hunter isn’t the right choice for that sort of role. His expertise would be needed to ensure the colony’s infrastructure was up to date and optimized.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Thinking about Hunter brought a small scowl to his face. The boys’ actions and radio silence displeased him. And the extra worry was unwelcome, given the circumstance. Not that putting the young man in danger would ever come easy. He did not know what Abraham was up to, and why he needed Hunter’s help and silence. It meant that whatever they were doing, they thought he wouldn’t approve.
He admired the gall it took to act like that. He always knew that Abraham was an independent sort, but he’d been a loyal and upstanding company man for as long as he’d known him. This was out of the range of his normal operating procedure.
Despite Trey’s displeasure, Abraham had earned his trust. He’d gone about using that trust and respect the wrong way, though. For that, there would have to be consequences.
Hunter’s punishment would just be more work. What else was he going to do? Keep him from being useful? The boy’s potential was far too high for him to be sidelined. Maybe Hunter was counting on that very fact.
Probably not, but it would be impressive — but also predictable.
Once the rest of the ships get here, if he could get Hunter and Paulov working together, the skies were the limit. They would need to struggle through a bit of an adjustment period, where Hunter focused on teaching the company everything he knew. But after that, it was important that the company caught up with the new paradigm. Etherium seemed to be the dominant power out here. Using electricity was their bread and butter, and they had a whole body of science which they could lean on in order to understand it. Whereas Etherium’s rules seemed to change all the time.
But this wasn’t sanctuary. The power of etherium had proven undeniable. The potential of etherium was mind-expanding, to say the least.
Hunter was their best bet to build a proprietary science of etherium, using Drawstones. With the help of Hunter and Paulov, Oberon Enterprises could serve as a sovereign contender in a vast realm of worlds which appeared to host many volatile factions.
It was nothing that he and his people weren’t used to. Sanctuary was no utopian dream. And Oberon Enterprises had some advantage out here that they could lean on for the time being. But those were thoughts for another time, Trey thought.
“What’s the status of the welcoming gift?” Trey asked. Niklaus smirked.
“We’re waiting for the signal, sir. We’re going to let the bastard get as close as possible.”
“Have you informed Captain Gregor?” Trey asked.
“Yes, sir. As far as I’m aware, he was present during the meetings where we laid out this plan.”
“Niklaus, you ever thought about being the captain of a ship?”
“Sir, with all due respect to your navy, I’d rather die in a brothel. My boots belong on the ground.”
“Understood, Nik,” Trey said, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Sir, the creature’s not expected to be in weapons range for another hour, at least. I recommend you get some rest,” Captain Smith said. Niklaus raised his eyebrow toward Trey, which Trey interpreted as agreement with the Captain, and skepticism regarding Trey’s odds of agreeing.
“I’ll rest when this is all over, Captain. Thank you.”
Captain Smith pursed his lips and nodded.
Trey considered the map on the Captain’s tablet one more time, racking his brain for any other ideas which could help increase their odds. They didn’t know how weak the avatar was after its fight with Sabletown and the A-Class. Their planned salvo could very much be the straw the breaks the camel’s back.
They could only wait and see. And it would be an excruciating wait.
----------------------------------------
There was no more work for Hunter to do. He’d severed all the unnecessary networks he could. He had optimized the etheric input for the shield, and he’d even spent some time looking over the weapons systems. He’d learned a lot, and had a thousand ideas for improving them, but there was only so much they could do in a such a limited timeframe. Ammunition was scarce. He didn’t want to risk experimenting with the weapon systems, not with tthe Cloud’s possible takeoff being so soon.
So all he could think of to do was practice the Inner Arts for the first time in, what, over a week?
Except he was far too tired to meditate. He couldn’t concentrate. His mind was foggy, and all he ended up doing was fluctuating between waking dreams, and worrying about all the ways the next few hours could go wrong. He knew he’d promised to stay near the shield room, but after a few minutes, Hunter found himself walking towards his old quarters.
Electricity had been cut off, and since there was no way to etherically activate the door to his old room, he had to pull it open manually.
The room was exactly as he’d left it. It was odd. The usual sounds of the ship—the hum of power, the pulse of etherium, the crew’s footsteps, and the bridge officer’s voice echoing through the ships corridors—were all absent.
The ship felt asleep, which seemed wrong. This was an icon of life and power. Ironic, given that there was a time that he’d grown annoyed by the chaos within the confines of this glorified tin can. But now he missed it. If only he’d known how blissful those days were, leading up to the storm of violence and desperation which Skyhold had in store for them.
This world wasn’t willing to give up its wild, savage sovereignty without a fight. It was going to kill for its right to remain untamed by the hands of Oberon Enterprises.
But the ambition of mankind was not something that a savage world like Skyhold could hope to eclipse. Call it grim optimism, but there was no way they could quit now.
The Captain’s words kept echoing through his mind.
The finish line is in sight.
Maybe what he was feeling was like the greed of corporations; the battle for more power, more resources, supremacy over the world. If someone could fight for the unchallenged wellbeing of themselves, their family’s, and their friends, why wouldn’t they?
The thrill, the battle, the heartache. Hunter wanted to tell himself that he couldn’t stand it. That it wasn’t worth the stress.
But feeling so close to the end of this crucible was almost intoxicating. The promise of smooth sailing, of the entire horizon and beyond being theirs to claim, explore, and discover. Glorious.
When they’d first set course for this world, Hunter had known that Skyhold would have opportunities. Sure, there would be resources, there would be mysteries, there would be opportunities to learn and progress himself and his people.
But he’d bled on Skyhold’s soil. He had drunk and sweated Skyhold’s water. He’d seen the fierce power that Skyhold could focus upon its challengers. He’d been humbled. Everyone had been humbled.
And what a challenge. It was terrifying, what they’d had to face. But the possibility of victory over the guardian avatar meant more than some chance to build a home for themselves. It will have meant that they’d won, that they’d survived Skyhold’s worst, and the world would be their prize.
Of course, they’d have to share it with the Sabletowners, but Hunter figured they’d earned their right to inherit the world as well. It mattered little to him, and neither would it matter too much to Trey or Aera.
The difference between a nation and a corporation was adaptability and integrability. Oberon Enterprises transcended nations. Once they found a market in the Sabletowners that they could serve, it might only be a matter of time before Sabletowners joined the ranks of Oberon Enterprises themselves.
The company would survive. The family would survive. Oberon Enterprises would thrive, and they will have proven that they can rise to any challenge that faces them.
He could rise to any challenge that faced him.
Cultivation. Progress. Expansion. A new era of cooperation and learning.
Skyhold would be the foundation for something incredible, and the finish line was in sight.
“Hunter,” the Captain’s voice sounded from the small radio on his belt, “It’s time. Are you ready?”
Tension blossomed in his chest.
He nodded to himself.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”