Chapter 4: Odysseys and Stompy Robots
"I don't see why you keep looking at them," Nuri snapped.
"I just didn't think the Combine would use rotary transports," Quarir explained, sheepishly turning away from the patrolling craft.
"Normal people call them heli-cop-ters," she said sarcastically, "and the Combine use them because we did. They absorb other cultures."
"Yeah, I know, but I'd have thought they'd use Synths or Murocrachian organisms. Why not convert a Murochrachian Lightspore into some sort of assault vehicle?"
"They do use Gunships closer to the Citadel, and they're Synth," Nuri said absently, centring her attentions on the suspiciously blank horizon. She paused, and turned back to Nalore. "What the hell is a Muddyratchet?"
"Murochr—," Quarir began, and then thought better of it. "Never mind."
"You keep doing that! You're bullet-proof—"
"In some places," he corrected.
"—in some places, yes, but nevertheless bullet-proof, and you've got knowledge of things I've never heard of. Who and what are you?"
"I've told you," he said tiredly, "I'm a bion. I'm a human, like you," he added, as if not believing it himself, "but with genetic modifications and the odd artificial part." He remembered his pulled tendons and the hole in his chest, and winced. "Not that it does me much good…"
"That doesn't really answer my question."
"Yeah? Well I'm from another world, and, I think, another dimension," he declared dramatically.
"Oh, like Xen?"
"Like Xen, yes," he said testily, not pleased at having the wind taken from his sails, "just without the screwed up gravity and floating rocks. Basically, I'm a representative of a number of planets that want to disrupt Combine activity."
"Oh, okay."
"You what?"
"I can believe that. You have to remember, we've been enslaved by alien invaders and, like you said, we work alongside three-armed things, I mean um, people that shoot lightning. It broadens your horizons."
"Right, right. Sure." Acutely disappointed that she hadn't wanted to hear more, Quarir changed the subject. "Speaking of horizons," he nodded towards the distant and conspicuously bare plane, "I thought you said there'd be a relocation outpost over there or something?"
"There used to be," Nuri said warily, "it was just a big camp with a lot of CP APCs inside. Obviously it was temporary."
Nalore sniffed. "What City was this?"
"Eleven. That's why I knew you'd lied about your own relocation. That and the fact I'd shot you a minute earlier. How is it, by the way?"
"What, the hole? It hurts, but I think my nanodrones have stopped the bleeding. I'll have to pluck it out when I get the chance."
"Oh god…" she breathed.
"I was wondering about that," Nalore mused, following her over the crest of the hill, "do you people use that exclusively as a swear word or do you have religion like— oh, shit."
The pass, bordered on all sides by impassable walls of rock, was a writhing sea of bodies. Thousands of citizens were attempting to move through it from either end; some fleeing the destruction of their homes, others the terror that awaited them beyond the canyon. A solid wall of wheeled vehicles blocked the mouth of the pass, and, seemingly acting at random, CPs were alternating between gunning the defenceless civilians down and bundling them into the personnel carriers.
"They must have been ordered to pick up the pace a little," Quarir grimaced.
"What are we going to do? We can't walk through the pass, the 'cops will recognise me as a Resistance fighter… and if we move over these hills, the choppers will mow us down."
"Well, at least they don't know who I am," Nalore shrugged.
"Oh, shut up," Nuri turned on him. "What kind of 'representative' are you, anyway? Where are your huge battleships and soldiers or even a damn ray gun? Why'd they just send you?"
Quarir backed away, mouthing nothingness. It was a thought that he'd had himself…
"Because, you useless little ape," someone sneered, "the Traitor Mainframe wishes to remain covert."
Nalore swivelled around, right in time for a fist to meet his midriff. There was a horrible cracking noise and he sunk to the floor. As his consciousness ebbed from him in a torrent of pain, he recalled that Maintonon had said he wouldn't be the only operative acting on this world...
"And in doing so he guarantees his failure. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic."
Nuri backed away. The newcomer was a little over six foot tall, white haired, and clad in clothing she could only describe as a robe. He didn't look too dangerous; but if Quarir really was an elite warrior selected by their would-be alien saviours, and this man had dispatched him so effortlessly…
It means I'm in big trouble, she decided, as the grinning humanoid darted forward and effortlessly lifted her off her feet. He walked to the edge and held her, at arms length, over the perilous drop of the precipice.
"Combine, Domarians, Terrans… you will all fall. It's a pity," the man leered, "you're not entirely defunct as a species..."
If he's anything like Quarir bullets will just bounce off him, Nuri thought, frantically planning ahead even as she recoiled at his touch, even as the humming rotors of the Hunter-Seekers drew nearer, even as Quarir lay dead or dying… I'll have to make do…
She withdrew her revolver and fired into the air, and her captor struck the pistol from her hand.
"Now, really," he tutted, "what was that meant to do? I—"
Responding to the shots of insidious, rebellious forces, the three helicopters deluged the rocky crevices of the peak with rocket fire.
"Hmm. I found you first. I was kind of hoping I'd find my .357."
Quarir groaned. "I feel like I've been buried under a heap of rocks."
"You have been buried under a heap of rocks."
"Ah. That's the second time. Third if you count the ornamental boulder back in the Arts Facility, but that was a long time ago and the guide felt so bad for me she gave me her comm number so, well, all in all that was a much better day than this."
Nuri offered her hand, and Nalore graciously let her help him up. "Thanks," he said, after a great deal of hesitation. "What actually happened?"
She told him, and his eyes bulged. "He dropped you off a cliff and you survived?"
"I have hands you know. And I can climb. It wasn't a particularly steep cliff, and he was too busy being hit in the face by a rocket to come after me."
"Ah," Quarir nodded, ineffectually dusting himself off. "That explains all the scorch marks and smoke. Where are the rotorcrafts now?"
"Helicopters. They flew off for some reason after levelling half the hillside. I think they're needed elsewhere. Probably picking off stragglers."
"Good for us, eh?"
"Well, yes and no. The crowd's moved on. I saw a contingent of CPs leave the blockade and start making their way up here. I doubt they'll take too long to find us. So, I don't suppose you've seen my revolver?" she asked hopefully.
"No, and I lost my own gun. Just tell me, what was this robed guy like?"
Nuri shuddered. "Bit taller than you, whitish hair, red and gold robe over some sort of armour..."
Quarir sighed. "Sounds tasteless enough to be an Arcadimaarian. I hope those rockets really finished him off, but I doubt it. Their Zealots are damn hard to kill."
"A… Zealot?" Nuri paused in combing the rocky ground.
"A glorified hitman. Assassins that are given a target and never stop until one of them dies, no matter what they're ordered to do."
"What are the Arcadimaarians?"
"Murderous assholes who are big on psionics and genetic tampering. They're basically wannabe-Uclasions who want to destroy all inferior lifeforms, which in their eyes is everyone else, or enslave them."
"Like the Combine," Nuri muttered, making her way down the steep trail. "What are Uclasions?"
"The Uclasions are a really ancient species that wiped themselves out but left a few massively technological relics around, like Ucelsia, a big boxy artificial planet. A lot of Domarians live there." Quarir frowned. "Still, I don't think the Arcs are that much like the Combine. The Combine just wants assimilation and supremacy. The Arcadimaarians revel in destruction. They're a bunch of hedonistic bastards. Sadistic, even."
"I think you lost me at 'really'."
"It doesn't matter," Quarir murmured, nearly tripping over a large stone, "both powers are planning on invading us, but you could argue the Combine are a bigger threat. Actually, you could argue that the Arc's are a bigger threat… I guess it depends."
"How the hell does it depend?"
Nalore shrugged, which was a mistake as he came very close to falling over. Very few parts of his body were behaving as they should. "The Combine are more likely to invade, but they're likely to try and absorb us all. The Arcs are a little less likely to, but they'll probably just kill us, because they hate Maintonon— that's the Domarian's leader, this computer thing, except not really because a lot of people think he's just an advisor— and anyway Arcs prefer relying on their own tech, although they're not above using whatever Uclasion artefacts they can find. We could maybe beat them one on one, I mean, we've got big stompy robots, but they outnumber us and—"
"You've really lost me," Nuri interjected.
"You've lost me. Slow down, it's not a race."
"Shh," Nuri ordered in a harsh undertone, raising a hand for silence.
Quarir, annoyed, listened intently, and eventually picked up what the sharper woman's ears had already detected: the synthesised voices and heavy footfalls of a gaggle of Civil Protection troops.
Nuri pointed, and, sure enough, six of the masked enforcers were making their way up the hill, slowly defeating the steep landscape. "We can still go around them," she whispered eagerly. "Look what's at the foot of the hill."
Quarir checked out a large, shiny, black-plated ground car. "An armoured vehicle?"
"Exactly. A Combine APC. Do you think you could drive it?"
"Me? No way, the Combine I've seen in action doesn't go near wheeled vehicles. Then again they've got a friggin' huge empire…"
"I'll just do it then," Nuri stated icily. She half ran, half slid down the remainder of the stony path, taking great care to keep as low as she could. Quarir, again, had great difficulty keeping up- he kept telling himself it was because he was so injured, not because some non-serumite was fitter than he was.
Nuri, surfing the gravel like water, came to a halt behind a conveniently placed boulder. Checking that the CPs couldn't see her, and giving Quarir time to catch up, she moved from mound to mound, utilising the cover with tried expertise. Nalore grudgingly admitted to himself that she was really good at what she did.
She reached the APC and pounded on an area that was presumably the door. "Locked," she shrugged, "but at least they didn't leave a guard."
"Amateurs," Quarir mumbled. "You want to pick the lock, or should I, y'know...?"
"Oh, no, go ahead and do your freakishly strong door-breaking routine."
Nalore chuckled, and managed to lever the hatch open, but not without considerable effort.
Nuri sat herself at the controls. "Simpler than I expected," she announced, and Quarir was inclined to agree. The black plastic, or at least something he thought looked like plastic, was positively covered with all manner of button and switch but it was blatantly obvious, even to him, what each did.
Nuri pressed a button marked with some sort of half-circle, and the small glass dome topping the vehicle noisily popped open. "You can manage a gun, can't you?"
"Probably. I mean yes. I mean, all guns are the same, right?"
"Then get up there. They've seen us!"
Nuri placed a hand on the steering wheel and did something to some foot pedals. The APC shuddered into life. Quarir wedged himself into the constrictive turret cockpit and managed to slam the transparent shield down just as bullets began ricocheting off the surrounding metal.
Shouting at the escapees, each other, and at their radios, the CPs desperately tried to make their way back to the ground... but they were far too late. The APC roared away at a speed that even the hovercar-owning Nalore could appreciate, despite their bumpy transition.
"Can't close this damn door!" Nuri shouted, muffled considerably by the combination of engine and thick armour. "Won't be good for my protection!"
"Well, I couldn't help it!" Quarir bellowed back. "At least they don't lock their controls!"
"Maybe didn't see the point of doing both," she replied. "Uh-oh. I think they're coming our way! Get that gun working!"
Quarir risked a backwards glance. Three APCs had detached themselves from the barricade and were speeding towards them, gaining ground at a disturbing rate. Swearing loudly, he grappled with the control mechanism of the machine gun mounted nearby, and he saw the pulse weapon swivel towards their pursuers. He pressed what seemed to be the trigger.
A rocket, trailing flame and smoke, screeched from a firing port and slammed into a hill, creating a burst of blinding mud that forced one of the APCs to veer aside.
His heart in his throat, Quarir tried the other trigger, and the pulse weapon spat radiant blue light towards the enemy, in a manner that was reassuringly reminiscent of the photon armaments back home. It pattered harmlessly off the automobile's hull but he felt immensely cheered.
He concentrated his efforts on the domes of his fellow gunners, and a burst of pulse fire shattered the closest APC's bubble, shredding the occupant in a puff of red mist. The driver slowed down to let his intact colleagues overtake him.
Nalore had no time to celebrate, however, as the two remaining carriers let loose a barrage of screaming rockets; following their every move with unerring accuracy, they left a wispy trail that, in the sunlight, would've looked quite nice in happier circumstances.
"I'm going to have take evasive action! Spray rockets everywhere, they'll have plenty!"
Quarir didn't need telling twice. As Nuri swung their vehicle aside wildly, he sent a steady stream of explosive projectiles towards the enemy, keeping the luminous crosshair of his reactive dome as near to them as possible.
For an eternity, the three APCs poured their full firepower towards each other, but eventually Nalore's famous luck played out. One of their attackers overcompensated after swerving around a crater, and they entered an irreversible skid that left their side exposed for two full seconds. He took full advantage of the moment.
Two rockets slammed into the sliding carrier, and it flipped upward, landing as a smoking wreck. Whooping in unashamed joy, Nalore focused on the last one, which had unwisely slowed so as to best avoid the new obstacle. A rocket hit it dead on, and it stuttered to a halt.
In impotent rage, the crippled APC's gunner fired upon them one last time. Even over the engine noise and the aftermath of battle, Quarir heard Nuri's pained grunt as the shots hit home. Their APC began to veer off the road.
"Nuri? Are you okay? Nuri! We're about to go over the cliff!"
She wasn't okay, and they went over the cliff.