Conor stood watch at the door while Burlai frantically treated Mulaney's wounds. He hurriedly applied bandages, hemostatic gel, and light combat stims to stabilize her. Although he wasn’t a combat medic or a doctor, he could provide basic life-saving first aid, which Mulaney desperately needed.
At the same time, Eivaley took on an essential role in emergency medical treatment, keeping her sister talking and focused on anything other than the fact she was bleeding to death.
“Once we are done with this, we will go on vacation to that beach you like,” Eivaley assured her sister, holding tightly onto her remaining hand.
"It was Youglin Beach," Mulaney muttered. Even in her nearly destroyed state, she could never forget that beach. Its pristine azure waters and white shores were where she and Burlai had their vacation after getting their life coils.
“Alright, this is going to hurt,” Burlia said while moving Mulaney's head so she could look toward him.
Mulaney erupted with a string of curses so creative that even Eivaley chuckled despite the tension as Burlai syringed hemostatic gell into the hole where her glistening eye used to be.
Whatever she said in old Kurlatra must have been out of character because Eivaley raspily commented that she did not know Mulaney knew what that was. Even Burlai was taken aback by his wife and stopped injecting the gel.
That pause only lasted for a moment; when the princess screamed an insult at Burlai and reminded him what he was doing, he got back to work.
Having half of your orbit in the open dusty air was rather painful for Mulaney; the burning feeling of the gel did not help at all. By the gods, it felt as if the life-saving medical tool had been designed to torture the patient.
Burlai returned to applying the gel while Eivaley simply chuckled at the comment.
When they arrived, she was out cold, but after a quick adrenaline stim, she was awake and screaming her lungs out—a trend that continued nearly ten minutes later.
For several reasons, Conor could not judge her for screaming, as if it was the end of days. One, it was from the view of most of the empire and its citizenry. Additionally, very few people could bite their tongue and suck it the fuck up after being wounded to the degree she had.
That she was still conscious was a testament to how hardy the eldest princess was. Until Conor watched her nearly claw Burlais eyes out with her one remaining arm while screaming that he wouldn't touch her sister, Conor had just chalked her up to be a typical noble.
With that much fight in her, those wounds alone weren’t going to take her down. Conor was not worried about her. By Urla, Conor would not put it past the newly christened warrioress to kill someone on their way to the bunker.
It certainly would be a sight to behold to watch Mulaney blow the head off an enemy soldier while Burlai princess carried her through the halls. Sadly, that would not come to fruition. It was a cruel twist of fate for Conor’s entertainment that as soon as she had been stabilized enough to move, and Burlai told her so, she nearly passed out again; she had fallen into a state Conor had seen plenty of times while in combat.
Mulaney was essentially in a state of waking sleep. Most of her body had simply shut down, so whatever amount of her body and mind was still alive could focus on assuring she did not die. He did not know exactly what being in a state like that was called, but he knew it was better than her falling into shock. If she had, she would be dead long before they reached the bunker.
“You two ready?” Conor asked, glancing back.
Burlai nodded and turned around, holding Mulaney in his arms. His rifle slung over his back. She looked pitiful. The once proud princess, now muttered incoherently, covered in bloody bandages. She seemed so fragile in Burlai's arms as if one wrong move would shatter her.
“We are,” Eivaley said, picking up her pistol and walking to Conor.
Now that they were not stabilizing her older sister, Conor finally got a good look at his paramour. She looked like she had been run ragged for the last three days and then forced to drag herself face-first through pools of blood.
Her eyes were tired, filled with the same horrific apathy anyone who had to kill did. The typical spring in her step had been replaced by a pained limp. Along with that, her ruby scales and golden robes were stained nearly black with blood.
Seeing her like that stabbed Conor in the heart. This was precisely what he hoped to have prevented, but the moment he was away from Eivaley, she was attacked. He was not there despite having promised her he would never let anything happen.
He had failed his little ruby so shortly after swearing his soul to her. It was a mark on his soul he would wear forever, just as she would wear the wounds of having crossed the line no sapient, much less her, should ever be forced to.
Conor understood that Therulay likely had someone watching the cameras around the palace or just keeping tabs on him the old-fashioned way. This meant that the attack in his absence was the plan, but that still did not help soothe his battered pride.
“Good,” Conor said, picking up Eivaley.
What are you doing?” Eivaley yelped, startled as Conor hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Carrying you. It will be faster that way,” Conor said, moving his assault rifle to the other hand to support her with his organic half.
Carrying her like this gave him better control of the M45 while shooting one-handed. Sure, his organic arm still had augments in it, but that was nothing compared to his artificial arm. That side had a mainline connection straight to the targeting computer in his eyes and brain; shooting straight was not even a thought when he used just that side; it was a pure, deadly reflex.
Eivaley huffed for a moment, finding the idea of her being carried like this ridiculous. But Conor was right; even weighed down by her, he was faster than she could ever dream of being. Because Burlai could not fight while carrying her sister, this would be a dead sprint, with no time to get stuck in; Mulaney would die shortly if they were not swift-footed.
Conor peered out in the hallway, carefully surveying the area with every visual spectrum he had. Once he was certain no one was out there, they burst out and rushed down the body-filled halls.
—-
Their trip was as uneventful as they could have hoped for when taking a jaunt through a warzone. Conor shot a few soldiers while mid-run, with nothing else interrupting them. The poor sods never even had a chance to see what was happening. Conor aimed the rifle as naturally as breathing, using his target tracker and ballistic calculator. He fired ten quick shots, working his way from near to far. Each round blasted through skulls and splattered brain matter across the one about to be shot.
Blood splattered across them as they sprinted through the carnage, shadows weaving through the chaos. The five soldiers died long before they collapsed into spreading pools of blood.
Eivaley wanted to argue with Conor about not even knowing if those soldiers were their enemies, but she held her tongue. Whether they were enemies or not did not matter at the moment; Conor simply had to treat everyone like a threat.
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He had to be the beast she had kept him from being back on Heavalun; without him genuinely going all out, the empire would fall.
That unrelenting violence first, questions later attituded even extended to the soldier who opened the bunker. As soon as the door split, Conor shoved his M45's muzzle into his mouth, slammed him into the wall, and ripped away the man's weapon.
If Vitul and Cur’sh hadn’t intervened at the bunker entrance by assuring Conor that Frakunal was not an enemy, that random soldier would have met his end then and there.
Once Conor had let the man go, he returned his weapon and, to everyone's shock, apologized for the treatment.
Conor took his time explaining why he had done what he did; the man understood the reasoning, even joking with Conor that if he had to protect his wife like Conor was, he would have treated people the same way. That did not mean that Frakunal enjoyed being manhandled by the Human, but saw why it had happened as justifiable, especially once the guard saw the state Eivaley and Mulaney were in.
With the doors closed and sealed, Mulaney and Burlai were hurried deeper into the bunker system, heading for the medical facilities within. They had completed their part in that horrible night. Sure, Conor could order Burlai to stay and keep fighting, but he would not. Burlai had done enough for the time being. His aiding Conor throughout the rest of the night would have been helpful, but it was not needed, especially now that Conor had his two favorite bodyguards to work alongside.
Burlai staying by his woman's side in what might be her last moments was better for him in the long run. If she did die and Conor made him come with neither Burlai nor Conor would forgive the act.
At the same time, Conor and Eivaley, the highest-ranking nobles present, were briefed as they worked through the winding halls toward the nexus of royal command.
The number of civilians scattered throughout the rooms they passed reassured Eivaley that not all was lost. She thought nearly everyone in the palace was still stuck in the battle, but the true number seemed far less than she had assumed.
Hundreds of palace workers, maids, and guards were in various states of intactness. Some were wounded and were being seen by soldiers or those who were uninjured. Others were far luckier and only had to battle with the crushing reality of all they had ever known falling to pieces.
Eivaley even spotted the maid who was assigned to her after returning from Heavalun. Alanii was sitting with several other maids. They stopped chatting and watched as Eivaley and her entourage flowed past them. They watched the procession as if they were watching ghosts. From the look in their eyes, Eivaley could tell they did not genuinely believe that Eivaley and Conor were there.
Eivaley waved and smiled at her, glad the young lady was safe. She did not return the gesture. Eivaley did not know why and would never know. This was the last time she would see the young woman. After this battle, Alanii would leave the palace and most of her life behind.
According to Vitul and Cur’sh, they arrived at the bunker only a few minutes after the battle began. They had been doing their absolute best to organize the defenses but were having difficulty.
Colonel Blakek died on his way here, having been caught by a group of Therulays soldiers. His second in command had also been cut down in that ambush, leaving them with no direct military command. Until Conor arrived, the highest-ranking warrior on site was Vitul, a lesser noble and sergeant in the guard.
The empress and Vuraley were both still missing in action. The High Champion was seen on camera after he had left Conor and Burlai, but that was an hour ago. They tried to use the surveillance gear to locate them, but all cameras that were still serviceable could not find either of them.
To top off this shit sandwich, the soldiers they did have eyes on were, hunkering down and defending themselves from Therulays forces but otherwise were stagnant.
You did not have to be an expert strategist to see that it was a losing fight. The soldiers had allowed Therulays’ forces to take control of the battle and dictate how each brawl unfolded. It would only be a matter of time before they were all overrun and killed.
“Well, this is just going fucking great,” Conor growled, scanning the digital map of the city and the dozens of screens showing the palace grounds. “Do we still have the means to contact the loyalist army? Or is that shot as well?”
“We do—but,” Cur’sh gestured at a radio several soldiers were calmly speaking into.
“But what?” Eivaley replied.
As Cur’sh was about to comment, the room shook violently, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. One of the many anti-aircraft batteries had shot down another jet, causing it to crash directly into the palace overhead.
“We don’t have the challenge and response codes. We had managed to reach the army and air force commands, along with someone called Rokoyu. The two commands won't follow our orders until a noble with high enough clearance contacts them. Rokoyu said he and his troopers were moving to assist Eivaley, but we don't even know if we can trust some random guy who somehow is on our frequencies,” Cur’sh explained after they recovered from the sudden jolt.
“Where is he going,” Conor asked.
“He is nearly at the main gate. Why?” Cur’sh raised a brow.
“I know that guy; he was one of the veterans from the center Eivaley runs,” Conor assured. “Keep coordinating with him and get the loyalist troopers moving to lay out the red carpet for him. He might be our only large force that is nearby.”
Conor recalled Rokoyu’s words from several months ago. At the time, the man had assured him they would side with Eivaley if anything ever happened. He had assumed that the man was just being poetic, not that the veterans and the Lost Ladies would quite literally come and fight for them.
“Now, let's deal with high command,” Conor continued. Eivaley, you know the passcodes, right?”
All eyes in the room instantly turned to Eivaley. Even the trooper communicating with Rokoyu stopped to see if what Conor had assumed to be true was true. For her part, Eivaley nearly shrunk under the pressure of all the men waiting for her answer.
“I do,” Eivaley admitted sheepishly. “All of the princesses have their own emergency codes,”
That did mean that Therulay also had a code to take control of the military, but because she likely lacked a secure net to contact them, countering them quickly was not on the table. She was more concerned with the symbology of control, so she would be hunkered down in the throne room while her lackeys cleared the board of enemies.
“Perfect. Then, while you get on the radio and start coordinating the army, the rest of us can keep pressing the fight with Rokoyu,” Conor instructed.
“But, I’m not the empress,” Eivaley argued, attempting to not have to step up into the role she had been avoiding her entire life.
She was willing to fight alongside Conor for survival, but assuming control felt like a betrayal of everything she had sworn to avoid. Eivaley would usurp her mother through and through and take the throne for this war. She would assume her place as the center of the seat of power for the Kurlatra empire.
It did not matter that it was likely only a temporary means of ending this mindless slaughter. She had sworn never to take power. She did not want it; all she wanted was to live with Conor, be happy, and help people live better lives.
Conor stepped over to Eivaley and hugged her. He knew what he was asking of her and how badly she never wanted to be in charge, but she was their only hope. As it stood now, they were in a mad scramble for power. Having her take charge would give their fight an air of legitimacy, making it so they were not just another group scooping up control.
“I can’t. I just want to go away. We can still get out of here and never have to fight again,” Eivaley argued, clawing at Conor's back while hugging him. “You can get us out of the palace; we can just run.”
For the next few moments, Conor took a page out of Vuraley's book and keyed his response into exactly what she needed to hear. For those few moments, he legitimately acted like the Lord of War the Kurlatra believed him to be. Conor leaned back, looked, and gestured at all the men in the room.
“I know you don’t want to, but you have to do this. All these men do not want to be here either, but out of loyalty to your mother, father, the empire, and you, they stayed,” Conor began.
Eivaley looked at all the men, remembering their names by heart and remembering their families, whom she had made great efforts to meet. She had eaten with them all and played games with their kids.
“They all want to return home, see their wives, hold their kids. But they need you to give them the chance to do that,” Conor continued. “Do you not want them to return to the peace they—no you want?”
What Conor was saying might have been considered underhanded and cruel by many, but he knew Eivaley. She was sweet and gentle and cared more about the common man than anyone else. He was using that against her and hated seeing the guilt growing in her eyes. But he was being truthful. He had to put the stakes in terms that meant a lot to her, even if it hurt her for now.
Eivaley clutched her chest as guilt welled up inside her. This was not about her wants or needs. No, this was about these men, their families, their lives, and the fate of all Kurlatra. They needed her to be strong and become the woman who would guide them out of this hell and into a prosperous tomorrow.
She knew that taking control of this would be her playing into the game of the Kurltatra, but she had to do this. If she did not take charge, trillions would die as the throne was left unoccupied. If she did, millions would still die, but overall, the toll would be far more acceptable. Even if accepting that fact made her feel like she was swallowing glass.
“I don’t want them to suffer,” Eivaley sighed, giving into destiny and accepting the horrible reality she found herself in.
Just as Conor had stepped up and filled the role, the empire needed a Champion. Eivaley had just taken her own steps to, at long last, be the ruler her people needed. Her voice over the radio would herald a turning point for the empire, or at least what would be left of it once the dust had settled.
“That’s my little ruby,” Conor kissed her head before they began to organize defenses and shift the tides of battle.