PART I - PRELUDE TO FALL

Iona Research Complex, seven centuries ago

The Dragonslayer watched the sky, and his fist clenched.

Great, winged shapes circled the horizon in the twilight light. Alarms and sirens blared everywhere, drowning the air in wailing doom. Soldiers and ground crews ran on the tarmac down below, rushing to their battlestations amidst the explosive chaos. Assault jets and interceptors struggled to take the fight to the skies, launching desperate counterattacks in scattered groups. The compound burned, as vehicles, armor, and supply warehouses were all obliterated by fire, metal, claws, and lasers.

The Dragonslayer stood on the observation terrace of the central laboratories and wondered how this had happened.

A young aide appeared at his side and gave a hurried salute. "Sir, the enemy forces have surrounded us!"

"Numbers?" the Dragonslayer asked distantly.

"At least twenty class-S d-units, and twice as many class-A! They also have half a dozen combat-heavy skyships escorted by fighters and paratrooper transports. Comm intel says a starcruiser is lining up for orbital bombardment. The entire AID task force is here!" The man's face was pale. "Your orders, sir?"

The Dragonslayer's gaze remained fixed at the sky. "Begin general evacuation," he said darkly. "Distribute battlegroups Two through Twelve between fallback hideouts. Execute Movement-wide comm-channel switch. Battlegroup One will remain to cover the retreat. Inform the cutting crews to extract only those beasts which fall within the perimeter. They have fifteen minutes. Go."

The aide made to leave, then paused. "Sir, aren't you going to evacuate too?" he asked in a tentative voice.

The Dragonslayer's mouth twitched in a mirthless smile. "No. I will fight. Tell Maintenance to prepare my ACU."

"Yessir," the aide saluted, and went to carry out the orders.

The Dragonslayer remained alone on the terrace. The battle was rising in intensity, projectiles and energy beams lancing through the amber heavens. Explosions, screams, and roars from engines and powerful lungs joined the sirens in the thunderous soundscape. The Dragonslayer closed his eyes. They had lost. Somehow, the enemy had found them, and now the end of the Movement was at hand.

Yet his personal crusade would never be over.

He turned and entered the building. He descended rusted stairways and walked along old corridors, traversing the abandoned research complex, its halls and labs converted years ago into engineering hangars and weapon factories. Suddenly, an explosion thundered nearby, and the whole building shook violently. Orbital bombardment. The AID have finally shown their true colors, he thought somberly. Damned dragon-lovers.

He entered the main launch bay. The place was almost empty. The other ACUs had already either evacuated, or joined the rear-guard action. Hazard lamps bathed the floor in warning light. More explosions echoed, sending tremors through the structure, and debris crashed down from the ceiling. The few remaining technicians were dashing madly toward the exits, taking whatever equipment they could with them.

The Dragonslayer walked calmly to the lone towering mech in the center of the launch bay. He took a comm radio out of his pocket. "Echelon Five, connect me to the Second-in-Command." The radio gave only static. He tried again. "Echelon Five, come in!" No response. Comm-channel has already been switched, he realized. Pride swelled in him; they may have lost, yet they sure wouldn't go down without a fight.

He climbed onto the loading platform and entered the battle-ready mech. His personal Autonomous Combat Unit had been lost years ago, yet the substitute was the best hardware the former 23rd Starlight Division could provide after the Red Colony Campaign. He stepped into the mech's operation deck and fastened the holding straps and input sensors, feeling the familiar controls. He began power-up procedures. The giant war machine came to life, status screens flickered with data, and the main view-panel displayed a two hundred-seventy degrees augmented-reality picture of the launch bay.

"Computer, input authorization code four-two-dash-nine-zero," the Dragonslayer said. "Scan commlink frequencies for mirror encryption, and connect only to those with valid authentication."

"Acknowledged," the interface replied. "Scanning frequencies."

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The Dragonslayer held tightly to the controls, wrath rising inside him, hotter and brighter than any dragon's firebreath. The thought of the winged monsters made his blood boil. He grit his teeth, harnessing the fiery rage into ice cold hate. His heart and mind burned with crystal clear will to kill, to destroy, to show no mercy until the very end. His desire was absolute and his determination was driven by one sole purpose.

Vengeance.

The comm screen flickered. The Dragonslayer glanced and saw the familiar, calm expression of his Second.

"Status report," he snapped at the screen, finishing the last power-up procedure.

"I'm sorry, Commander."

The launch bay tremored to its core as the orbital bombardment intensified. "What?" the Dragonslayer asked, looking askance. He gave a remote command to the hangar doors to open.

Nothing happened.

The Dragonslayer hissed and willed his ACU to dash forward and smash the doors away.

There was no response from the mech.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Dragonslayer snarled, turning his full attention to the comm screen.

"I'm sorry, Commander," his Second repeated in a flat, hollow tone. "But this has to stop. This tragedy has to end. They have suffered enough. You have suffered enough."

"You are betraying me!?" the Dragonslayer roared. He pulled madly at the controls. The weapon systems were locked. The movement interface was disabled. The commlinks were blocked, except for the current channel. "I trusted you!" Explosions continued to thunder, rocking the launch bay, and pieces began to fall from the ceiling. The building was collapsing. "We shared a vision! Why did you do this!?"

"I shared a vision, yes," the Second said. He looked down. "But you, Commander... you never had one. Your soul was empty. As we waded deeper into blood and darkness, I realized this... and I made my choice," he added, lifting his gaze, a resolute glint in his bespectacled visage.

"TRAITOR!" the Dragonslayer howled. "YOU WILL REGRET YOUR CHOICE!" He slammed his fist into the screen, shattering it. He growled, overwhelmed with bloodrage. No one would deny him his vengeance. No one would stop his crusade. No one would undo what he had become.

The Dragonslayer stayed his temper with the diamond blade of his discipline. He moved to unclasp the holding straps. He would retreat, and return to fight another day.

Suddenly, his body went rigid and utterly immobile.

"No!" he snarled through clenched teeth, as the ACU's sensor nodes flooded his synapses with feedback noise. He struggled. His breathing became ragged and his vision blurred. "NO!"

The launch bay continued to collapse, rapidly reduced to mounds of composite armature and polyconcrete fragments. In the revealing sky, dragons were tearing asunder the few remaining mechs and interceptors of the Movement. He turned his gaze upward, the bitter sight causing his grief to flow from his soul. "No..."

One of the data screens flashed and the Second's somber visage appeared again. "The ACU's hull plating will protect you from harm. You– you have to be alive, for this to end properly."

"I... will... never... forget... this," the Dragonslayer hissed through paralyzed jaws, putting every ounce of his anger and sorrow behind the words. "I... will... have... my... REVENGE!"

"We were wronged," the Second said, half to himself. "We were bereaved. We suffered. Yet we should not commit wrong and turn into reavers ourselves. That is not the Way.

"I'm sorry, Commander."

***

They were all here, waiting for him.

He was dragged to Skyborn Heaven in literal chains. Thousands had come to the summit to see the trial. He trudged along the colossal stairway. Transhumans lined the sides, walls of silent scorn. Dragons stood on the clifftops above, watching without a word. Every gaze was fixed on him, both transhuman and dragon showing only resentment and contempt. He blinked against the golden rays of light, preparing for his final moments.

The escort led him to the top. The tribunal had already gathered on a stone podium at the end of the giant open courtyard. He felt no surprise when he saw his judges were the leaders of the AID, only dull hate. The Nemesis and the Overseer, and their companion beasts. They were joined by eight more, four other human-dragon pairs, twelve in total. He looked at each one and felt his hate rising, giving him strength. He straightened and glared fiercely, a proud warrior in his last act of defiance.

For a long time, silence reigned at the holy site.

"We are here today to make a grave decision," the Overseer began. "This trial shall forge the relationship between two races, and determine the fate of one who chose to try and drive them apart. May the Great Cosmos give us guidance, and may we always follow the Way in our hearts, both today and forever forth."

Thus began his trial. They brought to light all his deeds and actions. They presented his past, his dreams, and his dearest moments. They cited the crimes and atrocities he had committed. They dragged his life forward for everyone to examine. Hours passed, and the Dragonslayer was unraveled before the eyes of the entire galaxy.

They never mentioned the others who had helped him.

He was alone. He was made solely responsible for the wrongdoings against dragonkind, the newest species to join stellar civilization. He was a scapegoat, and he knew it.

He was the Dragonslayer.

And he was going to die because of his reputation. It was the only way. He stared at the tribunal; they knew too. He was never going to back down. Never going to forgive. Never stop, until he had evened the scales. Death to all dragons. Death to their supporters. Death to those who had taken everything away from him. He stared at his Nemesis, and silently repeated his vow.

He was never going to fulfill it.

At last, the charade was over. The facts were reviewed. The charges were raised. The verdict was made. The crowd clamored, transhumans demanding justice and dragons rustling with their wings, growling in primal emotion.

Only the punishment remained.

The Overseer's titanic companion rumbled like thunder and quiet descended upon the summit again. The Overseer stepped forward. The Dragonslayer raised his head, ready to accept his fate.

The Overseer spoke the Decision.

Not a single soul expected what followed.

Instead death, the Dragonslayer was granted oblivion.