~February 25th, 140 AH~
~Sector Aquarius, outbound from Akropolis~
Within the space of an interrupted farewell, Asena had gone farther from home than she’d ever been.
She rode in the back of the cockpit of an… Eidolon? If it was one, it certainly wasn’t of a model she’d ever seen nor learned about. If anything, it looked more like an amplified version of the tram she once rode to visit Lower Akra: boxy, wide-based, built low to the ground, and fitted with a cockpit that was spacious enough to comfortably seat several people.
The ‘pilot’, if he could be called such, was Akash Varana. But instead of slipping into a Nexa-Suit, the Gaertner had merely strapped himself into a seat at the front of the cockpit. Moreover, this ‘Eidolon’ moved, not with one-to-one input from a Reiter’s mind and body, but from the mechanical manipulation of a control stick.
Beside the tram-like Eidolon, Zelen’s familiar midnight-blue frame, as well as two more metallic giants of alien design, flew in convoy. One of the aliens, piloted by the Panzer Graeme O’Riordan, was of a bulky—or rather, rotund—appearance, with a near-spherical central chassis, no visible SPU or arms to speak of, and lower limbs that evoked the ‘tank treads’ Asena had seen in Old Earth photographs.
The other was slimmer and bipedal, just barely resembling a more compact version of a training model Eidolon, except for the fact that its one arm was merely the rod-straight barrel of a physical, cannon-like weapon. As far as Asena knew, this second machine was piloted by a Jaeger deserter named Feray Geyik, with whom she’d only spoken through the radio. A woman. Piloting an Eidolon.
“Are there other woman pilots in the Apfel Alliance?” she found herself asking, raising her voice to be heard over the mechanical churning of the tram-Eidolon. “Is that what these Old Earth Eidolons allow for?”
“These aren’t strictly from Old Earth, at least not in the sense you understand the term,” Akash yelled back without looking away from his screens. “Also, there’s nothing special about these models. Any Seher—boy, not a boy, Reiter, not a Reiter—can pilot an Eidolon, even the ones in Akropolis. Even the one Zelen is piloting right now. That goes for Kurators too, you know.”
Akash did turn his head then, just briefly, but enough to throw Asena a knowing smile.
“In fact, would you like to give it a go? This transport model is a little heavy and clunky, but the controls are simple enough.”
The man had his back turned to her, but Asena could tell that he was genuinely waiting for a response. Of all the lunacies she’d taken part in over the last several days, however, this latest offer might have taken the cake. Her heart raced and her head swam just from the notion of herself piloting an Eidolon, and yet… wasn’t that exactly what she’d been doing for weeks, throughout her [EVOCATION] sessions with Zelen?
Asena was rescued from having to give the idea any more weight, as the radar upon the pilot’s screen chose this moment to beep and flash with a pair of red dots.
“We got incoming,” Akash observed mildly, with nary a shift in tone. “Two Brutus units from the looks of it.”
Asena sat up straight, her brow tensed with concern. “Should I contact Zelen? He could—”
“No need. We’ll conserve our Reiter friend for something a little more… strenuous.” With that, the Gaertner switched on the radio. “Graeme. Feray. You see what I see?”
“Already on it, sir,” came the snappy reply from the Panzer.
As Asena watched, the rotund tank-Eidolon peeled off from the convoy, followed closely by the barrel-armed cannon-Eidolon. Asena tracked the pair’s movements by following them onto a second screen, which showed a feed from a separate SPU. What she saw next only continued to break down and rebuild her worldview in real-time.
First, the Panzer got out in front of the convoy and lowered himself onto the ground, whereupon his spherical body spat out an enormous pale blue screen, one that sat vertically from the ground up. A shield, behind which the entire convoy hid comfortably as the Brutus units peppered them with shots from their rifles.
Next up was the Jaeger. With one agile motion, she jumped up from behind the shield, then fired her cannon before dropping back to safety. A blue ray of energy flew with speed and accuracy, eliminating one of the Brutuses in a puff of black smoke. Then, as her Panzer partner’s shield overheated and disabled itself, Feray Geyik the sharpshooter fired off her second charge from ground level, just as accurate—and as destructive—as her first.
The battle was over within a matter of seconds. Two Syntropy carcasses lay in its wake, which the convoy flew past without a second look. Incredibly, the one Reiter among them hadn’t lifted a finger.
Asena remained speechless throughout, utterly stunned. She’d never trained as a warrior, but she’d vicariously experienced enough of the war to marvel at the implications of what she’d just witnessed.
All five differentiations of Sehers flying into battle, arm in arm and each with a specialized role to fill. How much would that change the way humans fought the Syntropy, if all Joint Forces personnel could be convinced to join the cause? How would that change the war itself, and its endless cycles in which all Akropolitans languished?
Her chest—that chasm that had hitherto known only to widen and deepen—filled with an unfamiliar emotion. Hope. Tempered and bolstered by sorrow.
As her chest filled, so did her eyes with tears. Tears and sorrow for the Akropolitans she’d left behind. Her family. Her fellow servicemen. The Tengers and all the other downtrodden people across the three Akras.
But the tears also brimmed with hope. Hope for reunion and understanding. Hope for a future that was truly worth fighting for.
Stolen novel; please report.
No sooner had Asena’s heart filled with hope, however, it was also marred by a touch of fear. For the radar chose this moment to beep again, this time flashing with a solitary marker.
A blue one.
The blue dot moved in on the convoy with alarming speed, travelling in a southerly direction—outbound from Akropolis.
“Were we expecting another rendezvous?” Asena asked warily, though somehow, she already knew the answer. It should’ve been impossible. Not with the Spiegels fully on their side. And yet—
“No,” Akash said simply, voice suddenly tense. He then added, “We haven’t updated the codes to differentiate between the Eidolon models. Most likely, this is one of the General’s men. One that somehow slipped through the trap. Not to worry, we’ve also rehearsed—”
Akash froze, staring at the feed from a rear-mounted SPU. For the pursuer had come into view. And it wasn’t the model ES-V the fugitives had expected it to be.
Swollen muscles where the ES-V’s were svelte. A hulking frame that personified violence and power best out of any of Sherwin Granger’s designs. This model ES-F was painted with the simple charcoal-grey of a Reiter’s uniform. In all of Akropolis’s history, only one Reiter and his Eidolon had fit this description.
Fenix Duodecim. Callsign ‘Ashborne’.
Before any of the fugitives could react, Ashborne’s right arm erupted in a flash of ghostly blue, sending out a round of [WINCHESTER]. It connected with the side of the transport Eidolon, jolting both Gaertner and his Kurator co-pilot in their seats.
“Fuck!” Akash swore, for the first time Asena had heard. His hand upon the control stick tensed as he fought to bring the Eidolon back on course. Then he shouted into the radio, absent any of his earlier calm, “Feray, on me! Graeme, can you wrap us up? And… Zelen—”
“Asena, can you hear me?”
Zelen had already made contact, cutting off Akash mid-speech. Asena worked her own headset with trembling hands, then forced herself to adopt the same even-keeled tone she’d used in all of her previous ‘sessions’ with the young Reiter.
“Yes, Zelen. Go ahead.”
“I think that’s the General.”
“I think so too.”
“He’s… our enemy, isn’t he?”
“… Yes. I believe so.”
“Then is it alright for me to eliminate him?”
“… I think… I think we have no other choice. But Zelen, please—”
But the channel had already cut off, and Kingfisher peeled off from the convoy on his own. Please try not to kill him. Asena’s intended words sank into a re-opened chasm.
Everything moved too quickly for Asena to intervene. Not that she would’ve known how to. Feray and Graeme closed in on Akash’s position, and the Panzer reactivated his shield, this time shaping it into a dome that covered all three ‘Old Earth’ Eidolons.
Asena observed this development with a detachment that surprised herself. The non-Reiters had opted for a reasonable enough defensive manoeuvre, but it was one that left them unable to fight back—left them at the mercy of a charcoal-grey phantom who needed only to wait for the shield to overheat. It showed clearly their inexperience and naivete in warfare. It showed that Akash Varana the Gaertner still had a long way to go before he could convincingly lead a rebellion against a city that was steeped in 140 years of war.
Beside the partial convoy, two men who’d known nothing but war squared off against each other—against each of their metallic frames. And as Asena watched the two Reiters lean into single combat, she was convinced that the fugitives’ defensive manoeuvre had been for naught. Not only because it was ineffective, but also because it was unnecessary.
The General had attacked the transport Eidolon only as a means of riling Zelen, of pushing the younger man into throwing away his doubt, his reservations, the extraneous thoughts that could only distract from the mission—from the hunt. Fenix had no intention of bothering the rest of the convoy any further, now that he and his quarry were locked in a battle to the death.
There were two things trying to kill each other. And one would inevitably kill the other first.
Asena held the widening chasm within her chest, and watched. She was dismayed, terrified, disgusted, but she nevertheless forced herself to watch. She owed Zelen at least that much.
Ashborne opened the engagement, opting for another shot of RA [WINCHESTER]. Kingfisher evaded by quickthrusting right, answering with a salvo of RS [MISSILE LAUNCHER] as he did.
Ashborne had already pre-empted this, ducking under the ordnances and closing the gap at the same time. He already had LA [BARDICHE] ready, which he swung into the space Kingfisher had dodged into. The latter defended himself by turning into his opponent with LS [SCUTUM].
A clash of blue-on-blue. Both Eidolons bounced off each other from the impact, though the heavier Ashborne was the first to regain his balance. He then took the opportunity to close the distance again, this time grabbing hold of the slimmer Eidolon with both muscular arms and drawing him into a metal-grinding embrace. In the same motion, he opened fire with both shoulder armaments: [BOMBARDIER] and [HARPOON].
Another explosion of blue and more blue. The Eidolons broke apart again, this time revealing a dramatic shift in their respective conditions. The blue spearhead of [HARPOON] was embedded in Kingfisher’s upper chest, just barely missing the cockpit. As for Ashborne, he’d lost his right arm, shorn clean off at the shoulder by a counter-swing from Kingfisher’s LA [GLADIUS].
Down one arm, Ashborne nevertheless showed zero hesitation. LA [BARDICHE] had come back online, which he now drove toward Kingfisher’s midsection, intent on fishing the job [HARPOON] had started.
With a lightning quick series of micro-thrusts, Kingfisher rounded Ashborne, taking full advantage of the safety offered by his counterpart’s armless right side. By the time [BARDICHE] missed, Kingfisher was already behind the heavier—and slower—Ashborne, giving him the widest possible window to punish his opponent.
RA [BLUNDERBUSS]. Straight into the remaining shoulder joint. [BARDICHE] disappeared in a wisp of pale blue as the arm it’d been attached to fell lifelessly toward the barren earth.
And still, Ashborne did not give up. He spun toward Kingfisher, wobbling from the unfamiliar weight distribution, and attempted a lopsided tackle. Kingfisher dodged this with ease, then took a page out of his opponent’s book, grabbing Ashborne with both intact arms and driving him into the ground beneath them.
Two metallic giants crashed with a resounding quake, one on top of the other. Kingfisher straddled Ashborne, pinning the latter in place, then raised a left arm that glowed pale blue with the blade of [GLADIUS].
Then and only then did Asena Shiranui react. She snapped out of her trance and screamed into her headset, with the full weight of her sorrow—only sorrow—behind her shaking voice.
“That’s enough, Zelen! Don’t—”
A clash of blue-on-charcoal-grey. The blade of [GLADIUS] penetrated a now defenseless central chassis. Then the grey frame of Ashborne stopped moving completely.
Silence returned to the barren earth. The corpse of a once great warrior lay amidst the planet’s haze, far from the home he’d defended all his life.
From the wreckage, a midnight-blue phantom rose—a killer reborn.