War In the Heavens

Private Desvlin picked up his magnetic railgun and gave it a quick check, making sure that all the components were in the correct place and working as intended. Having done so, he then additionally confirmed the status of the power armor he wore, the graphics displayed on the interior of his glass visor telling him that all systems functioned as intended. The armor, designed to enhance his strength tenfold in addition to protecting him from enemy fire, was painted a mixture of dull green and metallic gray that harshly reflected the dull electric lights of the corridor he stood in. Having assured himself he wore the armor correctly and wasn’t forgetting anything else, he nodded satisfactorily and looked to the rest of his squad mates, who stood in the hallway before him. “Today’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?” he asked aloud.

Sergeant Smythe, who stood at the front of the squad, snorted in amusement. “I think you mean a fun day, boy. Not every day you get to test your mettle against a real, live lich.”

“I feel that a ‘live lich’ is something of an oxymoron, Sergeant,” Tslin, their communicator and sole link to Heavensblaze Station’s command center at the opposite end of the ring-shaped station, commented dryly.

“Do I look like an oxymoron to you, boy?” Sergeant Smythe roared.

“…No?” Tslin said hesitantly.

Nodding with satisfaction to himself, Sergeant Smythe motioned for the squad to advance forward, the lights mounted on the front of their armor illuminating the stark, uniform metal halls before them, which now stood empty and utterly still.

Nobody in the star marine garrison at Heavensblaze Station, a base constructed primarily to guard the hyperspace trade lanes through the Vedes system, had expected a spaceship to come up from the planet the station orbited, a desolate world whose civilization had collapsed millennia ago. When they had sent out a scout team to investigate the derelict shuttle, they had been even more surprised to find a very powerful lich aboard, along with a crew of undead scavengers serving as thralls to the mad necromancer. He had easily overpowered the scout team and flown their far superior ship back to the station, which now stood on high alert, every squad of star marines aboard methodically searching for the undead monster to dispose of him before serious damage could be done, or worse, the lich somehow escaped into the greater galaxy.

In the distance, the squad heard the low warbling siren of the station’s automated warning system, along with a prerecorded electronic voice alerting any civilians onboard to head for their nearest evacuation pod as protocol demanded. The lights overhead flickered for a moment, nearly going out completely before switching back on, but in that moment of near total darkness Desvlin thought he heard, far in the distance, a bout of sadistic, lifeless laughter that made his skin crawl. Pushing his fear to the back of his mind, he pressed on, his confidence raised by the presence of the rest of his squad.

They turned a corner, and Sergeant Smythe put up a hand, the rest of the squad instantly coming to a halt behind him.

“What is it, Sarge?” one of Desvlin’s other squad mates, a man named Ziker, asked.

“Bodies,” Sergeant Smythe said, his voice flat. The rest of the squad crowded behind him, maintaining a tight circle formation as they looked out, alert to attacks from any direction. Desvlin ended up positioned next to Smythe, able to catch a glimpse of what his sergeant saw as well. What he saw almost made him vomit up the lunch of emergency rations he had hastily consumed a short while ago.

“Why would someone do this?” Ziker asked, horrified.

“A warning to us,” Tslin mused aloud. “That, or perhaps a boast.”

On the floor before them were the remains of countless dead bodies, stacked as if kindling for an unholy bonfire, the entire mass looking like some macabre decoration of some kind. Without a word, Sergeant Smythe took out a grenade and tossed it at the mound. The star marines’ armor shielded them from the blast, while splattering the thing before them into a blackish sludge that splattered against the hallway’s walls. Still not bothering to speak, Sergeant Smythe continued on, the rest of the marines following closely behind him.

The closer they grew, the louder and more clearly they could hear in the distance a kind of high-pitched, agonized humming, which set everyone’s teeth on edge. That noise was punctuated occasionally by bursts of agonized screams or more mad laughter. That sound, combined with the stench of rotting meat in the air, told the marines that they were fast approaching their quarry.

“Hold fast, boys,” Sergeant Smythe said to his squad. “Things are about to get very interesting.”

As he said this, they reached a door which looked to have been sealed shut, whatever was on the other side invisible behind the carnage that coated the tiny porthole in the door’s center. Sergeant Smythe gestured to a marine carrying a pack of explosives, who carefully planted it along the door’s locking mechanism as the rest of the marines fell back. They waited patiently for half a minute, then the explosive detonated, shattering the door and allowing the marines to charge through into the space beyond.

They found themselves in a larger hangar, the spaceships mostly overturned or damaged from the previous firefight. A small army of zombies, some clad in tattered furs and rags, others wearing the jumpsuits of station personnel, and some, Desvlin noted with horror, even wore the tattered remains of star marine armor, had been shambling towards an open door at the other end of the hanger before they halted at the sound of the explosion. Standing, or rather hovering above the ground in the middle of the mob was a tall, lanky skeleton whose eyes and hands glowed with a green, baleful power that Desvlin felt in his very bones was innately wrong. The keening hum, along with the aura of emerald light that filled the chamber, both emanated from the skeleton. The lich swung around to look at the space marines, his jaw hanging wide in a rictus grin.

“So, more fools come to challenge me with their pathetic toys,” the lich bellowed. As green lightning crackled across his fingers, the lich gestured to the reanimated corpses standing around him. “Are you so oblivious as to not see what happened to your comrades? I am unstoppable, unkillable, undefeatable. You are all but worms before me.”

Sergeant Smythe grunted as he shifted the butt of his railgun to his shoulder so he could fire properly. “Light him up, boys.”

At once, the squad of star marines burst into action, projectiles firing through the air and tearing apart the undead before them as if they were made of paper. Several of the projectiles even struck the lich himself, but his body reformed instantly from any injuries dealt in a swirl of bone-gray dust. The lich merely cackled at the star marines’ response, his mouth remaining eerily motionless as the sound emanated from around his body, rather than from him directly. He pointed a finger at Ziker, who stood to the right of Desvlin, and a bolt of brilliant emerald energy streaked forth, striking that marine directly in the chest. The bolt sent him hurtling backwards against the wall of the hangar, striking so hard he left a noticeable dent in the metal wall behind him. The chestplate of his armor shattered and his chest burned horrifically, the marine slumped to the floor, dead.

He only remained there for a moment, however, before slowly stirring and standing to his feet once more, the same pale fire which shone in the lich’s eyes reflected in his own. The marines besides Desvlin gasped in horror, unsure what to do in this situation. Their former companion stumbled towards the other star marines, his deathly grin a copy of his new master’s, the hand which still clutched his railgun dragging limply at his side. There was no life in his eyes, and his entire body was already rotting at a greatly accelerated rate. Within a matter of minutes, he would be a skeleton as bare of flesh as the lich he was now forced to serve. His free hand slashed blindly at Desvlin, who hastily took a step back beyond the zombie’s reach. Even as he did so, the other star marines opened in panicked fire upon their former comrade, the hail of high-velocity bullets quickly tearing both the former star marine and his remaining armor to shreds.

“Do you see, now?” the lich asked the marines. “Every one of your comrades who falls shall join the ranks of my soldiers. My victory is inevitable. Why do you bother resisting?”

In response, Sergeant Smythe fired his railgun at the lich’s forehead, shattering his skull and sending the lich reeling backwards from the force of the blast. The necromancer’s skull reformed instantly, and while it was impossible for his skeletal body to show any expressions, he nevertheless seemed to radiate an irritation that he had not before.

“Insolence,” the lich spat. “You’ll pay for that.” He fired another bolt of emerald fire at Sergeant Smythe, who predicted the blast and rolled away as it scorched the ground where he had once stood. Standing up once more, Sergeant Smythe hurled a grenade at the lich, who raised his arms to cover his face even as it detonated, annihilating nearly half the lich’s undead forces. The lich himself reformed an instant later, unharmed, then gestured towards his remaining corpses, who assembled into a tight group behind him. The lich flicked a finger, and his forces began shambling towards the star marines.

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“Boys, looks like it’s time for a fighting retreat,” Sergeant Smythe said.

“Yes, Sir,” the star marines answered as one, opening a covering field of fire to keep the lich and his thralls at bay as they retreated one by one back into the corridor from which they had come. Using the last of their explosives, they collapsed the passageway around them into a jumbled pile of half-melted metal, effectively cutting off the hall from the hanger. Having done so, they then waited patiently to see if the lich would attempt to pursue them regardless of the obstacle, but for the moment he chose not to. Satisfied they were, for the moment, safe, the squad reformed into an orderly column and started marching down the hallways away from the scene of the short but tense fight.

“What do we do, Sarge?” Desvlin asked, panting heavily from the heat of his enclosed armor once they stopped further in the station. “We can’t kill him; none of our weapons even phased him!”

The Sergeant grunted his reluctant agreement. “He’s a slippery one, alright.”

Tslin’s eyes widened in panicked realization. “Sir,” he said. “What happens if the lich reaches the command center, or the civilian portions of the station? There are thousands of civilians on this station. He would have a small army at his command.”

“Oh, I know it,” Sergeant Smythe responded. “Tslin, report the situation, let them know how bad it is down here.” They waited for several tense minutes as Tslin did exactly that, and once he confirmed the message had gone through, Sergeant Smythe, snapping the visor on his powered armor down across his face, said, “From now on, our job is to keep him trapped in these corridors until they can evacuate the entire station.”

“And, after that?” another marine asked.

Sergeant Smythe looked at him as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Blow the whole station up. It is the only way to make sure he stays dead.”

“With us onboard?” Desvlin asked quietly.

“We do our duty, no matter the cost, boys,” their Sergeant replied in an even tone. “And you can run and flee if you like, but I’m going to hold that lich here, even if I have to do it myself!”

“We’re right behind you, Sarge,” Desvlin said. The rest of the men voiced their agreement.

Sergeant Smythe smiled with pride at his men.

“The evacuation pods and command center are both at the opposite end of the stations’ ring from that hanger, so if the lich wants to reach any more…bodies to recruit, he’ll either have to fight his way through this hall right here or fall back and take the long way around,” Desvlin speculated aloud. “He didn’t strike me as the particularly patient type, so if I had to guess, he’ll come through here.”

“How remarkably astute of you, save for one important detail,” the lich said, materializing out of a cloud of gray smoke amid the startled marines. “I choose to take this path for another, equally important, reason: killing all of you is simply more enjoyable.”

He lifted his hands above his head, and a crackling ball of green energy formed between his outstretched, bony fingers, hovering in place. The orb slowly swelled, drawing in more magical energy. It grew as large as the lich’s head, then far larger, until it nearly touched the ceiling of the hallway.

“Die,” the lich snarled as he prepared to throw the orb, but at that moment Desvlin, acting on an impulse, brought his rifle around and fired, striking the orb and causing it to explode in a shower of green sparks around the lich, who shrank back even as he howled with rage.

More of the marines opened fire upon the lich, who lifted a hand, summoning a shimmering green field between then. To the marines’ frustration, their bullets bounced harmlessly off this new defense, ricocheting in the halls around them and forcing them to stop firing. The star marines stood there, unsure what to do. Sergeant Smythe took the initiative, racing towards the shield and colliding with it shoulder first, smashing right through it with his sheer strength. The lich stumbled back, clearly surprised, and flicked his wrist to send another bolt of green energy at Sergeant Smythe, who easily dodged past it.

“We’ve got him now, boys!” Sergeant Smythe said. Closing the last bit of distance between himself and the lich, while simultaneously flicking his wrist to reveal a built-in knife from his power armor’s gauntlet. He stabbed the blade into the lich’s eye, which made the undead being shriek in pain and rage as it clutched its bony hands to its skull. Sergeant Smythe then punched with his other fist, which, his strength enhanced as it was by the power armor, struck hard enough to crumble the lich’s skull into dust. The lich seemed to fade away, then remanifested behind Sergeant Smythe, who spun around to face the thing.

“Where’s your phylactery?” Sergeant Smythe asked, grinning widely. “Your weakness must be somewhere nearby. Where is it?”

“Did you think I would be mad enough to have it on my person in a battle? I hardly need it so close to me. It’s back on the spaceship I used to depart that wretched planet, safely out orbiting the station, fool,” the lich declared smugly. “You can hit me with whatever weapons you desire, but you cannot harm me.”

“Is that so?” Sergeant Smythe asked. “Tslin, make sure you pass that information along to command.” The lich spun around, realizing that in his single-minded focus on Sergeant Smythe and his attack he had forgotten the other marines. He lifted a hand to fire a blast in Tslin’s direction, but Sergeant Smythe took the opportunity to punch him from behind. With a snarl and a surge of superhuman strength of his own, the lich spun around and punched Sergeant Smythe through the chest, his bony fist emerging from the other side of the marine’s armor.

“A few moments, and you will join the rank of my servants,” the lich hissed.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Sergeant Smythe said, pulling another grenade out of his belt and triggering the detonator even as he died. A brilliant white light consumed the hallway, and then merely the momentarily stunned lich was standing there, along with the rest of the cowed marines.

“What do we do now?” Tslin asked.

Taking command, Desvlin said, “Tell command about the ship. Maybe they can have it shot down.”

“What?” the lich shrieked. “No! I won’t let you!” The undead fiend practically hurled himself at Tslin, but Desvlin intercepted, slamming into the lich from the side and sending them both tumbling over against the far wall of the corridor. The rest of the marines started to fall back, guarding Tslin as he frantically worked his communicator, leaving the lich and Desvlin alone.

The lich, in a fit of rage, began slamming Desvlin repeatedly against the wall, each hit feeling as if it shattered another of the star marine’s bones.

“You think yourself clever, don’t you?” the lich asked him in an eerily quiet voice. “The last fellow I met who thought himself clever enough to outwit me only managed to get himself and his entire band killed, then made into my puppets. What makes you think you and your friends are any different?”

“One thing,” Desvlin said. “Those other fellows didn’t have rail guns.”

“What?” the lich said, genuinely bewildered.

Desvlin took the railgun, which he still clutched in his now broken hand and, ignoring the agony, pulled the trigger with his finger. The bullet ricocheted off the wall behind the lich and struck him, passing through and hitting Desvlin in the shoulder as well. Desvlin, trusting in his power armor’s helmet, headbutted the distracted lich, which shattered his visor and sent the lich staggering backwards as he released Desvlin.

“You…insolent…,” the lich began, before he was cut off by the beginning of a loud, wailing siren filling the hallway.

“Attention,” an automated voice declared. “Heavensblaze station will self-destruct in 5 minutes.”

“What?” the lich shrieked in apparent panic.

“It was the only way to ensure your defeat,” Devslin said, limping towards the lich, ignoring the agony every step sent through his entire body. “It’s time for you to face your end, lich. There is no way for you to escape.”

In response, the lich simply turned around and fled away, leaving Desvlin standing there, shaking and sweating from the pain he felt coursing through him. He stumbled after the fleeing lich, desperate to ensure that his quarry did not escape him at the last minute. Lifting a trembling arm, Desviln fired his suit’s grappling hook, which pierced the lich through the leg and sent him sprawling on his face. Desvlin stumbled forward and fell as well, slamming his face into the ground and breaking his nose. Trying and not entirely succeeding to focus through a hazy fog of pain, he felt himself pulled along as the lich struggled against him, before finally vanishing and reappearing in a cloud of chalk-white dust a short distance away.

The lich, trembling, raised his hand and pointed a finger at Desvlin. Desvlin flinched, expecting the worst, when suddenly the lich froze in place, then let out a low-pitched keening sound, as if in unimaginable agony.

“My phylactery,” he whispered. “You fools destroyed it. You destroyed it! NO!” He tried to take a step towards where Desvlin had fallen, but collapsed to the ground himself, his strength leaving him. His bones began to slowly crumble away around him, decaying nearly as fast as his reanimate slaves had before.

“I’m mortal,” the lich said, his words spoken in a hushed, terrified tone. “I’m mortal.”

Desvlin managed to lift his bruised, swollen face to look at the lich, and smiled. “Same as the rest of us.”

“Why are you doing this?” the lich whined. “Do you not want to preserve your existence? Why would you sacrifice yourself like this? It make no sense.”

“Because,” Desvlin whispered. “Some of us have something worth dying for.”

The lich had no response to that. He started to lift a hand to finish Desvlin off, then stopped, his arm evaporating into dust as he limply fell back to his side, now motionless. The brilliant emerald fire in his eyes died down, until only the faintest green embers remained.

The siren in the background came back into the focus of Desvlin’s thoughts as he heard the automated voice speak once more, saying, “Attention. Heavensblaze station will self-destruct in one minute. Please evacuate immediately.”

“A little late for that,” Desvlin said in the quietest of voices, before laughing feebly at his own joke. He hoped that Tslin and the rest of his squad had made it to safety but realized that he would never know for certain.

With an effort, he rolled over onto his back, looking through blurry eyes up at the ceiling. A flashing red light which throbbed in time to the blood pounding in Desvlin’s ears was the only remaining thing he could focus on. He thought he heard the sound of steps nearby, and a figure stepped just outside of his field of vision.

"Blast!" the figure said, their accent unfamiliar to Desvlin. "I got here too late. Let's hope I'm not too late to help the others." In a sudden woosh of air, the figure, whoever they had been, disappeared, and Desvlin was left to wonder if any of it had happened at all.

As he lay there, sound seemed to fade away, until all that remained was Desvlin, his scattered, fading thoughts, and the light above. Then, even that was gone, and all that remained was the brilliant white light of the station exploding around him, and the anguished death cries of the lich beside him.

And then, peace.