When time itself was the enemy...
Uldren kept to himself for the next few hours, leading the way through the forest, the sounds of the roaring flames from the explosion growing more and more distant behind them. They needed a clearing wide enough for a ship to land in; neither Guardian had a transmat beacon with them anymore, as Martin's extra one had broken during the mad rush to escape the debris.
He could hear the two Guardians whispering to each other nervously some distance behind him, and neither one of them had spoken to him since Silverhawk's revelation. He was glade for that. He wasn't sure if he was actually capable of saying anything to them at this point. He didn't even know what he would say if he opened his mouth right now.
Probably something along the lines of, "Are you a homicidal maniac?", or, "Are you just keeping me alive so you have a bargaining chip if you need one?"
Or he'd say something stupid, like "Traitor!", or something really cliché, like that. He whacked another large leaf out of his way, and jerked his leg out of the grasp of a small pile of brambles. His elbow hit the branch of a nearby tree painfully, and he swore under his breath. The past hour and a half had been spent like this; dragging himself through the rainforest and trying to wrap his head around the Silverhawk situation.
It didn't help that his hair was gone, that his cloak was gone, that his dignity was completely and utterly thrown out the window, and that the wire weave bits of his armor were stiff and scratchy from when he had washed the Fallen blood off, and that everything he was wearing had carried a faint, fishy stench to it ever since. Not to mention, he hadn't slept in about three days. And it was raining. And he could barely see three inches in front of himself.
And his arm still hurt. He had treated it while on board the Wibbly-Wobbly, but now it had started to throb again, and he could feel the bandage, now moist with blood, rubbing uncomfortably against the skin around the wound with every move he made.
Basically, everything was horrible.
The sooner we get off Venus, the better. The two ghosts hung back with their Guardians, their lights barely illuminating Uldren's path. He was tempted just to build a torch of some kind, but everything in this stupid forest was so wet, he doubted he would even get a spark off any of the branches that kept hitting him in the head.
Suddenly, one of the lights became brighter, and he turned his head to see one of the ghosts zoom up next to him; Silverhawk's, obviously, seeing as Martin's was perched on the Warlock's shoulders like an insecure parrot.
"I'm getting readings of a clearing just up ahead; it could be big enough for the Timey-Wimey to land in." he informed, directing the beam of light coming from his eye in the general direction that Uldren had chosen to go in.
"Good." He said curtly, before Westley floated off back to his Hunter. He risked a glance back at her. She had put her glasses back on, he noticed, as Westley's eye light glinted off the black glass, and her face was just as unreadable as ever. Though it did sport a frown, unlike usual, which brought a shiver of satisfaction running through him.
He turned back towards his intended destination, spotting a gap in the trees that could be the beginning of the clearing. Finally! No more plants! If he ever had to see another plant again, it would be too soon. He pushed forwards with renewed enthusiasm, for the first time ignoring the wet splashes that the leaves dumped onto him constantly.
I have gotto get out of here! I'm so close… he was managing the best run that he could now, the undergrowth trying to trip him, and the mud sucking at his boots.
"Uldren! Wait!" he heard Silverhawk call behind him. A blast of anger swept through him at the sound of her voice, and he clenched his jaw, ignoring her. I don't need to listen to the words of a liar and a killer. I can't trust anything she says.
"Uldren!" it was Martin this time. He ignored him, too, pushing several vines out of the way after checking their coloration. The ghost light grew brighter again, and Westley flew up, around, and right in front of Uldren's face. He swiped at the tiny robot, the bright flashing light of his eye blinding him.
"Watch it!" he snapped. The orb dodged his swing deftly, his eye light dimming somewhat. Whether it had been his intention to blind Uldren or not, it had definitely succeeded in getting him to stop.
"There's a small fleet of Fallen Skiffs heading directly for us. Wheatley has already contacted the Timey-Wimey, but we can't risk being seen ourselves until it gets here. I've contacted Petra, she's climbing down through the atmosphere as we speak, but as soon as we're on the Timey-Wimey, as Silverhawk put it, all nachos is going to break loose." The blue and white ghost told him seriously.
"What? How small a fleet?" Uldren asked, worry digging into his stomach. One ship wasn't enough to fight off one Skiff. Sure, the Skiff itself could easily be destroyed by competent weaponry, but that Skiff probably had three Scoutships on it ready for deployment. In a four-to-one situation, the odds of surviving by engaging were slim.
"There's three Skiffs, five extra Scoutships behind them." The Ghost answered dejectedly.
Gee, I sure wish I had my ship! He thought wryly, almost saying it out loud, until he considered that jocularity at a time like this would get them no-where. He shuddered inwardly at even having considered speaking. These wackjobs are actually starting to get to me! Disgusting!
"How far out is Petra?" He asked, frowning. He could hear Silverhawk and Martin trudging up behind him. There was a loud squelching sound, and Martin let out a disgusted "EEEWW!"
"Five minutes. And the Timey-Wimey is here." Westley told him solemnly, as the sound of a ship's engines filled the air close by. The trees and undergrowth a short distance away waved wildly as the ship stirred up a wind, and he almost couldn't hear Silverhawk over the noise.
"West, how long until the Wibbly-Wobbly can meet us?" she yelled. He jumped realizing that she was directly next to him. She was holding her fedora steady on her head, and strands of her hair whipped around her face, brown and dirty, though(although it could have been a trick of the light) there seemed to be white glinting at the tips.
He almost physically squirmed at being this close to her. Her gloves were on again, but she could just as easily head-butt him and be done with it. He looked at her nervously. How many people have you killed? How many times have you touched? What did it feel like, to drain them of life just by touching them?
"Just a minute or two; if we drive out to meet it, even less." Westley shouted back at her, floating back over to hide in the hood of her cloak. A stray vine whipped across her face, and she flinched as black began to crawl up it.
"Don't just stand there!" Uldren yelled at them, rushing forwards as fast as the jungle would allow. "Move it!"
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Martin whined from where he was dis-lodging about half his leg from a deep mud patch. Uldren turned around again, swiping plant life out of his way as he went, the fierce wind caused by the ship feeling strange where his hair had once grown longer. He felt practically bald now.
He didn't bother looking back to see if the Guardians were still behind him; he didn't care, and he felt a surge of relief as he burst out into the open, rain lashing at him, to see the Timey-Wimey hovering low to the ground. He turned just in time to see Silverhawk and Martin come out after him, Martin covered up to his knees in mud and various jungle litter, Silverhawk looking no less better. Several large leaves turned black, the whole plants starting to wither, as they brushed her face upon exiting. His insides squirmed again.
The Timey-Wimey lowered to the ground completely just as the familiar sounds of Fallen Skiffs entered the air, and all three of them ran for the ship as the ramp lowered. Fear shot through him as the sounds grew closer, and he thought he could hear main guns firing through the air.
As they approached the ramp, something small and white came slinking down it from the inside. Martin let out a panicked yelp, and powered forwards with a speed he had not thought the Warlock capable of.
"Peppermint, no! Get back in! Bad Peppermint! Verybad Peppermint!" he yelled, seemingly at the white shape.
He scooped it up in his arms as he ran up the ramp, and Uldren punched the ramp button on the side console as he entered. Silverhawk jumped up onto the ascending ramp, rolling as she hit the floor before scrambling to her feet, boots slipping and streaking mud all over the floor.
She got to her feet, and then dashed madly up to where he assumed the cockpit to be. Martin gave a start from where he was bouncing the white shape in his arms, scolding it hushedly, and yelled after her in a panicked voice.
"Heather, what are you doing? This ismy ship; I'm driving!" he protested, running after her. Exasperated, Uldren went up with him.What game are the idiots playing now?
"Yeah, and you're a terrible driver! That was the second Sparrow this month that you trashed!" Silverhawk called back as Uldren came up to the cockpit.
"That wasn't my fault; it was that stupid saber-monkey-lizard thing!" the Warlock protested, still bouncing the creature in his arms. What is that thing? It looked like a mound of white fur with ears attached to it. Uldren tipped his head trying to get a better look at it.
He gave a small jump as the creature turned its head to look at him with piercing, slitted green eyes. It was a cat. It's thin, white tail lashed languidly as it dangled over one of Martin's arms, its triangular ears were tipped back flat against its skull, and it glared at Uldren looking for all the world that the Prince had personally offended her.
It was unsettling to say the least, but he put the cat out of his mind as the ship gave a massive jerk. He lurched forwards, as did Martin, and "Peppermint" jumped out of his arms and onto the floor with a hiss. Claws slid out of her toes, and she padded swiftly towards Uldren. He backed up, not wanting to engage with the creature. I don't have time to be doing kitty day-care duty!
To his immense relief, the feline completely ignored him, and instead jumped up into a crook in the wall, some kind of shelve, near his elbow. It sat there, glowering, and it suddenly hit him that this cat perfectly personified how he had been feeling ever since this mission had begun.
"You don't know how to fly her as well as I do!" Martin whined, arguing with his friend.
"You've had this ship a week, Martin; the last time you said that, Timey-Wimey the second ended up as a smoking crater in the ground." Silverhawk argued. Uldren gulped. Timey-Wimey…the second? What happened to the first? He had the feeling that he wouldn't want to know.
"That wasn't my fault either!" the Warlock shot back. A warning alarm sounded throughout the ship.
"Hold on to your hats, folks!" Silverhawk shouted. The ship pitched upwards, and Uldren was, for the second time that day, thrown back into the wall. He grabbed hold of the shelf as he fell, and Peppermint let out a yowl. He had little time to register the fuzzy tail caught in his grip before a sharp pain bolted through his hand.
"OOOWW!" he yelled. Peppermint had bitten him! He let go of the shelf, and with it the tail, and he fell back, winded as he was slammed against the wall.
Suddenly, as he was gasping for breath, the ship leveled out, and he recognized the feeling in his gut as they began to speed towards the ground, anything that wasn't secure floating up to the ceiling, himself and Martin included.
"I see the Wibbly-Wobbly! Uldren, get up here and take the controls!" Silverhawk's voice yelled.
"What?" he said, still floating, and completely caught off guard by her talking to him.
"I hope you've flown a Javelin before!" she simply replied. The ship jerked into it a stable plane of flight, and both Prince and Warlock hit the ground painfully. Uldren's face landed in a smear of mud from one of their boots, and he wiped it off with a sneer of disgust.
"Uldren!" Silverhawk's voice commanded from the pilot seat. He scrambled to his feet, anger pulsing through him.
"What, you—" he broke off as he got to the seat; Silverhawk was gone. And the Timey-Wimey was drifting lower and lower.
"****!" he exclaimed, lunging forwards and taking the controls, not bothering to strap himself down into the seat. He leveled the Timey-Wimey out, and saw the Wibbly-Wobbly circle around back the way they had come, the man guns firing rapidly.
"I really do hope you know how to fly that thing, because fighting is the only way we're getting out of here at this point!" Silverhawk told him through the comms. Martin lunged forwards from behind him and pressed the "talk" button.
"And why should Uldren get to fly my ship! It's my ship!" he stressed angrily.
"And you're a terrible pilot, old friend. That, and the last time we were outnumbered, you peed yourself. We really don't need that on our list of problems right now." She told him. For some reason, Uldren had to resist the urge to snicker at that. What the heck is wrong with me?
"Do a break! You've got one on your tail!" Silverhawk added suddenly.
Spotting the Scoutship on the oddly-placed radar, Uldren broke, and the ship's fire missed by what was probably a hair. He saw another ship directly in front of them, and he fired, driving straight through the cloud of the explosion that followed. Martin screamed.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU'RE BOTH CRAZY!" he exclaimed, gripping his hair as if he might rip it out if he had to deal with "crazy" any longer.
"Crazy people rule." Silverhawk stated simply over the comms.
"Do not start that again." Uldren warned. He was too angry, too concentrated with this battle to remember to give her the silent treatment.
"Just say'n." she said, and he could picture her shrugging. The Skiffs came into view through the cloud cover. He thought the word in Fallen that Petra had screamed earlier.
We…are going to die. Silverhawk, in a way very reminiscent of her Sparrow charge against the Fallen that Venus morning, was heading directly for the danger, firing everything her ship had at the small fleet. The comms activated, and two loud horn beeps came through it just before Silverhawk completed her fly-by. One Skiff had been split in half before it could un-dock it's Scoutships. Four Scoutships had fallen to the air-to-air missiles of the Wibbly-Wobbly.
Two of the Skiffs were still standing, though, and even as he watched, one of them finished un-docking its three Scoutships. Though Silverhawk's daring charge had greatly reduced their troubles, that still left four Scoutships between the two of them, plus two Skiffs. Great.
Two of the Scoutships broke off in pursuit of Silverhawk, and the other two, along with both Skiffs, shot towards the Timey-Wimey at an alarming speed. He cursed out loud, and Martin gasped.
He turned the Timey-Wimey around, and began to climb. Perhaps if he could break the atmosphere, it would give him an edge; he had always been better at space combat than atmospheric, and with the strange controls of Martin's Javelin, he would need every advantage he could get. He kept looking to the left to look at his radar, but it was on his right in this ship. The steering was oddly…well, laggy was the only way to describe it.
"This is Petra to Martin and Silverhawk; where's Uldren? I'm closing in on your position." A familiar voice rang through the comms. Uldren punched the "talk" button with enthusiasm. Finally! Someone who isn't crazy, annoying, or untrustworthy! He'd never known the emmisary all that well, even before 'the incident', but she'd proven herself useful so far.
"This is Uldren; my ship got destroyed along with the Ketch." He explained, almost bordering on cheerful…if Martin hadn'tliterally barged in, leaning forwards as best he could with the ship climbing in altitude.
"Yeah, so he hi-jacked mine. Silverhawk told him to. It's really messed up because, of course this. Is my. SHIP." He insisted, shooting Uldren a peeved look. The Prince snorted.
"She said you were a bad pilot; I saw your steering earlier, so naturally, I'm inclined to believe her." He said.
"You got a lot of them on your tail; get back down here so I can do something about it." Petra told them, her tone of voice implying that she was rolling her eyes.
"Got it." He responded, checking the radar and spotting the large ship she was in. He went into a flat-turn, and pushed the Timey-Wimey down at lightning speeds. His insides lurched as they sped towards the Fallen ships that had pursued them, diving between two Scoutships and avoiding crashing into them by a hair. Martin let out a long, panicked scream, gibbering about "crazy" again as he floated up towards the ceiling, gripping the pilot chair, and Uldren could barely hear Peppermint yowling.
They broke through the cloud cover to reveal Petra's large assault ship, roughly half the size of a Ketch. It had a sleek design to it, though faintly reminiscent of a Ketch, and the royal crest was painted onto its side.
"I'm coming your way, Petra. They're right behind me." He said over the comms, pulling up and into a stable line of flight towards the ship.
"Got 'em." The one-eyed awoken confirmed. The Timey-Wimey shook as gunfire slammed against the shields.
He had a split second to watch as the turrets on Petra's ship rose out from the top of it, and then he overshot her. Three blips disappeared from his radar, the fourth starting to back away.
"Thanks Petra." He said into the comms, banking back the way he had come.
"No problem." She chirped. "Ought to handle that last Skiff, though."
"I'm on it." He informed, lining up his flight path with that of the retreating Skiffs. Martin stood up shakily beside him, using the pilot seat as a support.
"Can I drive now?" he asked shakily.
"No." he answered flatly, closing in on the Skiff and locking weapons on it. He fired, and it only took a few moments for it to burst into flames.
"Guys, I'm having some trouble here!" Silverhawk's voice called from the comms. Uldren could see three ships in the distance, flying all in a row. "I'm sandwiched in a three-way dogfight with these losers! I can't believe I fell for that; it's the oldest trick in the book!"
"And exactly what do you want me to do about that?" Uldren aksed irritably. Petra's assualt ship was too slow to reach the trio in time, and there was just about nothing he could do, aside from making it a four-way dogfight. Besides; why should he even help her? She was probably plotting his murder.
"Nothing. I'm coming your way, give Martin the controls." she responded. The middle ship banked suddenly, breaking away from it's dogfight with the one in front of it. Smoke trailed from behind it, making it visible only as a darker blot against the sea of blackness. Squinting, he saw the blot of the damaged, front-most Scoutship turned as well, joining it's fellow in pursuit of the wounded Wibbly-Wobbly.
"What? No!" he protested. Martin let out a hissed "Yes!" of satisfaction.
"Martin, take the controls!" her strained voice urged. Martin leaned forwards, making a grab for the control sticks. Uldren held on stubbornly, trying to jerk them away from his grasp, sending the Timey-Wimey tumbling off to the side uncontrollably. As he struggled to regain control of the ship, he though he heard the Warlock shouting the name of his cat. He dismissed the noise as his mind playing tricks on him, and leveled theTimey-Wimey out, Silverhawk fast approaching, steering her smoking ship...directly towards them!
"Hold still, will you?" he voice exclaimed from over the comms. "Whats going on over there?"
Uldren was about to move out of her trajectory, when a flash of white at the edge of his vision heralded the arrival of Peppermint in the pilot space. The she-cat, before he could do anything, leaped up onto his lap, and sank her claws into one of his hands.
"OWWW!" he yelled, jumping up, shaking the cat off. Martin lunged forwards, shoving him away from the pilot seat and onto the floor, taking up the controls. Still mrrrrowwwing angrily, Peppermint jumped up into the Warlock's lap. What the HECK!? Did he just employ his catto attack me!?
"Get ready; I'm playing dead!" Silverhawk announced. Uldren pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, clutching his hand; it was the same one that Peppermint had bitten earlier, and he swore, the claw marks already looked infected.
"'Play dead'? What does she mean by that? Get out of the seat! And try to keep that little white monster of yours under control!" Uldren demanded, getting ready to forcefully yank the Warlock out of the seat and stab the cat through the head while he was at it.
Dark rain lashed at the windows, the system locking weapons on the Wibbly-Wobbly. The two Scoutships were hot in pursuit behind her, firing, causing the smoking, bright ship to light into flames at one wing.
"It means..." Martin said, breathing deeply, hands stiff on the controls."I better...not...miss!"
On the last word, he fired the Timey-Wimey's twin missiles. They sped right at Silverhawk, and for one(for some reason, heart-stopping) moment, he thought that the red and blue Regulus would burst into flames. At the last second, theWibbly-Wobbly did an aileron roll, speeding between the two missiles, with instead made impact with the Scoutships behind her as she flew directly over the Timey-Wimey.
Uldren felt like his legs were made of jelly as they passed through the cloud of fire and debris. That...was stupid. Was all he could think.
"Boo-yah." Martin said. Quickly regaining himself, he made to grab Martin and re-take control of the Timey-Wimey, but as he gripped the Warlock's shoulders, Peppermint growled softly from where she sat between Martin's arms, slitted green eyes piercing into his very mind. He let go of the Warlock, who cast him a quick glance of "U mad, bro?", before turning back to the task at hand with a haughty smirk on his face.
"Nice one, Martin! A perfect execution, just as ever!" Silverhawk praised in a tone reminiscent of Cayde-6's(goodness knows, that's probably where she got her attitude from). "See, Uldren; just because somebody's a bad pilot, and they're too terrible a shot for anything but a machine gun to work for them, that doesn't mean they can't come in handy when it comes to stupid aerial combat maneuvers."
"Stupidis right!" Petra exclaimed. Her voice took on a tentatively curios tone to it with her next words, as if she were perfectly aware that her Prince was listening and didn't like it."How did you do that, again?"
"Patience, grasshopper; all shall be revealed." Silverhawk said solemnly as Martin slowly turned the Timey-Wimey around, back towards Petra's ship. "But first; you got any nachos?"
Uldren face-palmed, exasperated, and then remembered with a jolt what Silverhawk really was. Jaw set, he resolved to end it; now, before they reached earth, and before it was too late. I'll tell Petra. And then once we get those coordinates, we lock those traitors up before they can do any damage.
The Timey-Wimey settled into the docking bay of Petra's assault ship, now known to be the Cirrus, haphazardly, Martin's shaky parking skill worrying at least, terrifying at the most. Uldren had half the mind to think thatthis was how Silverhawk and Martin had planned to kill him; death by docking accident. The young Warlock muttered fearfully to himself as he set down, the ship pitching and jerking violently.
The Wibbly-Wobbly was parked expertly on a landing pad at the far end of the bay, still smoking, crew workers rushing around it to try and save the engines. He could see Silverhawk running out through the ramp, pushing her insane Sparrow after her.
Martin cut the engines, and the Timey-Wimey landed with a crash that caught Uldren by surprise, sending him to the floor with a thump. Snap!(In actuality, he was thinking something much more rude, but we won't get into that right now)I think I'm in more danger now than I was during the battle!
He pushed himself to his feet, glaring at Martin, who had brought Peppermint up to eye level, and was cooing to the she-cat, rubbing noses with her. There was a light sprinkling of awoken blood on one of her paws, and a few flecks of red-purple matted fur around her muzzle. Little white monster!
He was starting to think the impossible; that the cat was in on the plan to assassinate him. But he filed that thought away into his subconscious list of "impossibilities that might soon have to be re-examined". After all, wasn't he about to break a deal with a human-awoken hybrid who had the ability to kill whatever-and whomever-she touched?
"Who's a good kitty." Martin was cooing. Peppermint simply glowered at him tolerantly, tail limp. She was likely just disgruntled about being held up by the undersides of her forelegs. "There's gonna be a fishy treat in it for you. Yes there is, yes there is!"
If I had eaten anything earlier, I might just be throwing up in my mouth right now.
"This is one of the reasons I don't have a pet."
A loud knocking pounded at the underside of the Timey-Wimey, and Martin rose from the seat, adjusting his grip on Peppermint, cradling the white ball of fluff in his arms as she licked the blood off her paw. Uldren cast his meanest glare at the cat, who returned it in full force.
They went around to the ramp bay, and Martin hit the button with one elbow. the ramp descended, revealing an angry but strangely eager-looking Petra Venj, arms crossed and foot tapping with obvious disapproval. Her lips curved in a frown upon seeing Uldren, silgle, peircing blue eye drifing over his head for a few moments, but she strode forwards the moment the ramp hit the ground, and before either man could say anything, she reached around both of their heads and gave them a solid whack.
"Ow!" they exclaimed in unison. Peppermint yielded no reaction, simply looking bored and casting the she-awoken a glance that might have said "He deserved that, thanks." Never, would Uldren have put up with a solder strikeing ehr commanding officer. But he had had a long day, and decided he would think of a suitable punishment later.
"What the heck, Venj!?' Uldren exclaimed, rubbing his head. "I've had enough head trauma for one day!"
"Prince, that was for worrying me; Martin... that was for being the worst damn driver I've seen since I made the mistake of letting Variks pilot Cirrus the first." Uldren gulped, groaning internally. Cirrus...the first? And who knows how many Wibbly-Wobbly's there been... How many times was he going to board a replacement ship today?
"What happened to Cirrus the first?" Martin asked tentatively, eyes wide. Looking him over, her frown turning into a hard line as she took in his tattered robes, muddy appearance, and pure white feline. At the same time, Martin seemed to see take her in fully. his green eyes lingered on her eye cover for a split second, and his face gradually seemed to turn redder as the conversation continued.
"Variks happened." she said vaguely. Her eyes fell on Peppermint. "Is that...a cat?"
Martin shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down at his pet as if suddenly realizing he had brought her with him, red flushing into his dirty cheeks. His top pocket quivered, and Peppermint looked up at it evilly. His gazed seemed to keep wondering back to her nose for some reason.
"Well-er, I um, yes. Yes, it is. I, uh, she sits on my lap when I pilot. I find it, er, therapeutic." he stuttered. Uldren raised and eyebrow at the Warlock, who was still blushing, not meeting Petra's eyes. Okay, I swear, if he falls for her, I'm ditching this crazy train, and I'm moving to another nebula. As he realized the reason for the Warlock's bahavior. He was dangerously close to dry heaving at this point.
It was almost a releif when Silverhawk charged up to them, slamming into Petra in her excitement.
"I GOT TO BLOW UP A SKIFF!" she shouted at them obnoxiously. "AND A COUPLE DOZEN OTHER THINGS! Can we do it again? Please?! I solemnly swear, I'll be a good girl! I said, like never."
For a moment, Uldren froze, afraid that the hybrid might have touched Petra during the collision, but the Queen's emissary simply shoved the fedora-doning Hunter away with a look of irritation exploding across her face. Silverhawk settled for shifting from one foot to the other excited, beaming at Martin. Petra took a deep breath through her nose, as if she was as fed up with Silverhawk as Uldren was-and after only a few minutes of social contact with her. If she had gone on this mission, Silverhawk would probably be dead by now.
It was not a worrying thought.
"Hold on; you ahnilated a Ketch, and you're going off about a Skiff and a couple of Scoutships? What's wrong with you?" Petra exclaimed, her look of irritation turning to one of disbelief.
"Because," Silverhawk answered faithfully, one hand brought up over her heart, "my true dream, the purpose of my existence...is to blow up a Cabal warship."
Is to kill everything you touch. Uldren couldn't help but think as she sighed dreamily, Martin rolling his eyes while Petra simply stared at her, looking skeptical. He frowned at his fellow awoken. I need to get her away from these two and on her own as soon as possible. She has to know before it's too late.
Silverhawk could probably kill everyone on this ship without breaking a sweat. He had to stop that from happening.
"Oh!" the hybrid exclaimed suddenly, opening a hand cannon ammo canister on her belt. She pulled out a clear, glass vial, filled half way with some sort of liquid." I got the sample. Might want to handle with care."
"Heather!" Martin yelped, all three of them jumping away from her and covering their mouths with their arms. Peppermint let out a surprised hiss as Martin covered his face with her. "Put that thing back!"
Her eyes widened, and she hastily stored the vial away in the ammo canister. "Sorry! I forgot; you're a germaphobe."
"Am not!" Martin brough the cat away from his mouth to protest before putting her back up, his next words ruffled by fur as the creature squimed in his grip."Thafs er dedly diseas in tere! I'n being erfetly easonable!"
Peppermint yowled, and twisted out of his grasp, landing on the floor gracefully. She started towards Uldren, and he jumped back, almost slipping on a patch of mud.
"Oh, no you don't you little mongrel!" he snapped, backing away. Her tailed lashed villainously, as if she were mocking him, before she turned to Petra and Silverhawk.
"Eh, she's a nice kitty. Not too fond of me, though; or Uldren, apparently." Silverhawk shrugged. Petra stiffened as the cat wound itself around her legs purring. Martin stood tensely, watching her with wide eyes. Uldren could almost hear his thoughts begging the cat not to attack.
Relaxing, and much to all their surprise, Petra bent down and picked the cat up.
"Petra." Uldren warned, holding up his injured hand." Be careful; that thing is a monster."
"Nah, she's not a monster. Are you?" she asked of the cat, holding it the same way martin had been. She looked back at him. "It was probably because you were holding her wrong."
Uldren gasped at her, exasperated. ME!? Hold a CAT? "Are you KIDDING me? I never even touched the damn thing!"
"Shh!" Martin snapped unexpectantly. He looked at Petra and Peppermint as if to capture the moment of peace in a mental picture. "The one time she isn't clawing someone other than me. This moment needs to last forever."
Was that a blush gracing Petra's cheeks? "Well, I, uh do deal with fallen all the time. Not all of them are as…intelligent as Variks. It, uh, gives me a way with animals, I guess."
The cat purred in her arms, eyes narrowed lazily, though to Uldren, it seemed as if she were still glaring at him.
"So, where do I take this thing?" Silverhawk asked, unclipping the canister from her belt and twirling it in one hand. They all eyed her nervously.
"Up the stairs, to the left. There's a lab; can't miss it." Petra motioned towards the stairs at the other end of the docking bay with one elbow.
"Aye, aye, Cap'n." Silverhawk gave her a tiny solute before skipping off towards the stairs, tossing the canister between her hands. Petra frown after her before looking back at the two men.
"Is she crazy?" she asked.
"What do you think?"
"Always has been." Uldren and Martin answered in unison, respectively. Uldren cast a quick glare in the Warlock's direction before descending the ramp. He could hear the footfalls of the Guardian and emissary clanking on the metal behind him, and half-listened to them as they conversed.
"We found coordinates to a possible cure; or, rather, the equation for it, anyway. It's on Earth; I hope you don't mind giving us a ride." Martin said meekly.
"Not at all, Warlock." Petra assured. "I had a hunch that that was where we would need to be next, my pilot's already locked in for a path to Earth. I'll give him the go-ahead, and we should be there in two hours. Your Ghost has the exact coordinates?"
"Yeah, he does. Got any beds around here?" Martin yawned. Uldren paused as they passed the Wibbly-Wobbly, looking at the ship. One of the wings was torn, and the fire crews were getting a blazing blast near one of the rear thrusters under control. Maybe they'll need a Wibbly-Wobblythe second. Or third. Or fourth. Good grief, if they need a Wibbly-Wobblythe fifth…
He turned back, now following Petra and Martin as they made their way to the stairs. Silverhawk's Sparrow was parked a few feet away from the base of the stairs, being examined by the Hunter's Ghost.
"We have some extra ones in crew quarters, if you need them." Petra told him. "I take it none of you have slept at all these past few days? Two hours isn't much, but you should rest while you can. And you look like you could do with a trip to our med bay, as well."
At the mention of sleep, Uldren felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. Over the past few days, he'd been running off of adrenaline and irritability. And with the exhaustion, came the realization that he was absolutely starving.
When was the last time I even ate? Had it been ration packs, aboard the Wibbly-Wobbly after Silverhawk's insane rescue? Or had it been the hastily-made and very-much-burnt omelet he'd made himself for breakfast the morning of the Fallen attack?
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die if I don't eat something, like, right now." Martin joked. There was an audible growl, no doubt coming from the Warlock's stomach. He patted his tummy. "Walk in the void, you eat like the void, as Ikora always says."
"So, you're a voidwalker, huh?" Petra inquired curiously. "You a career, or just on the side?"
"I'm, uh, more a dud, actually. Ikora says I overthink light manipulation too much." The Warlock admitted nervously, fidgeting with the cuff of one of his sleeves.
"A Warlock, overthinking things?" Petra raised an eyebrow at him as they climbed the steps. "Gee, no surprise there."
"You seem to know a lot about us." Martin commented. Uldren felt like yelling at them to shut up. He had to get Petra on her own as soon as possible.
"I've... worked with a few Guardians before. That, and I've... always found light manipulation to be a rather interesting subject. I'm not a woman of science; that's Faroth's job, but how some forms of Light come more naturally to some Guardian classes than others has always peeked my interest." Petra told him. They came up to the ramp, and Uldren followed them into the same hall that Silverhawk had taken.Uggh, great.
"Well, it kind of depends on personality, as well as class preference." Martin began to explain, while Petra listened, rapt with attention. Uldren wanted to throw himself out the airlock; or better yet, throw Martin out an airlock. "You see, a Hunter will usually have an… eccentric side to him or herself, and they prefer accuracy, agility, and speed in their fighting style. That eccentric side and desire for speed and agility expresses itself most in the form of Arc energy; you know, they always say, Bladedancers are just Hunters high on caffeine, and the desire for accuracy and clean-cut destruction expresses itself in the form of Solar energy. Of course, the Hunter affinity with fire might just be because every Hunter I've ever met has an obsession with blowing things to smithereens."
"Pft. I hadn't noticed." Uldren scoffed. They both twisted to look at him, and he felt like he was being burned under their gazes before they turned back to each other. They were passing several sets of doors, and a set of ajar double-doors was fast approaching.
"And the Warlock's natural skills with the Void? Where doesthat come from?" the emissary pressed. Martin tipped his head thoughtfully.
"The Void requires a special kind of understanding. There are so few Nightstalkers because Hunters are used to wilder, more uncontrollable energies, that have to be channeled rather than shaped, like Void Light does. Them and Defenders take the Void and shape it, but that's only because they don't understand it like us Warlocks do; the Void is all about understanding. That's how we're able to channel it, rather than have to shape it. Well, most of us, anyway." He looked down at his hands ashamedly. "Dudsdo happen; Void duds are the most common, no matter your class."
"So, what doesthat thing do?" came an eccentric voice from within the lab as they entered. Silverhawk was attempting to poke at a large ball that seemed to exerting some form of electricity. The resident scientist, and cheif medical officer, judging by his badge, slapped her hand away, and she almost immediately moved on to a collection of jumbled wires and small mechanical parts. "This thing?"
Faroth H'rryn yelped and jumped away from his microscope to pull her hastily away from the device.
"That is an experimental sub-nuclear charge that has yet to be stabilized completely!" He told her, pushing her towards the door, the Huntress raising her hands innocently. She twisted her head to look at the brown-haired, golden-eyed scientist, a wide grin on her face.Sub-nuclear WHAT? Should we be worried about this?
"Sooo…BIG explosions?" she asked hopefully. Uldren, Petra, and Martin pulled off to the side.
"YES." Faroth stated firmly, shoving her out the door, and pulling both shut before she could get back in.
"Gee, thanks for the support, you three! Real nice to know you have my backs!" her muffled protests sounded from the other side of the metal. All three remaining in the room looked from Faroth to the device with worried expressions.
"Um, should we really be entering jump-speed with that thing in such an unstable state? It might cause a G-Diffusion force reaction?" Martin fretted, pulling at the sleeves of his robes again. Uldren blinked at him.
For once, can somebody please speak English?
'What did you just say, Martin? Come on, you know I can't speak geek; speak the Queen's English, for Thames' sake!" Silverhawk yelled through the door, a slight accent tinging her speech.
"Quit referencing the British, Silverhawk!" Martin yelled back, putting on an accent of his own, though more defined. "And you're accent is still terrible!"
"And you've been practicing in the mirror again, haven't you!" Silverhawk accused, taking on a near-perfect Scottish accent. "If you can't get the accent without practice, than you don't deserve to speak like the nobel folk of the island!"
"Oh, now that's Scottish! That just not fair! Cheater!" Martin took a defensive pose, towards the door.Oh, for the love of—I SWEAR, IF THEY START AN ACCENT WAR, SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET THEIR TONGUE CUT OUT!
"All's fair in love and accents, little Warlock." Silverhawk replied sweetly.
"Is this normal for you two?" Petra inquired.
"Yes." Came the double reply, half of it from behind the door, while Faroth just continued to look at them, dumbfounded.
"I, erm, I didn't think we'd be…uh, needing to go at that speed…" he murmured, gaining their attention. Uldren stepped forwards, deciding to address the problem at hand.
"The disease sample?" he asked, not needing to say much else. Faroth perked up, and returned to his microscope, beckoning them. The Scope itself was more like a large, glass box with the scope leading down inside. The containment unit had two gloves leading into it, which were ridiculously-and horrifically-bright pink.
"Did you see his gloves?" called Silverhawk's voice right at that moment. Peppermint growled, glowering in the direction of the sample.
"I've only just got it, but I can… somewhat see what Certech did to this stuff. Low-level genetic engineering; like some old Black Death strains were explored as a means of biological weaponry. The observations I've made from various patients seems to suggest that this disease was designed for just such a purpose." He informed them, patting the box. "It's like they were relying on hospitals to keep the infected alive, to cause the most pain as possible."
"Hospitals." Petra frowned, likely having the same thoughts as Uldren. "You mean…this disease was meant for people, not the Fallen?"
Faroth nodded solemnly. "It appears so. In fact, none of the Fallen liveing at the Reef have been infected; not even Variks, who spends more time around humanoid people than others of his kind. And that's not the worst of it."
"What's the worst of it?" Martin asked hesitantly, as if he didn't really want to know the answer to that question. Faroth wiped his brow, looking tired.
"We've dated that building based off the scans Silverhawk's ghost sent us a few hours ago; about…three and a half centuries, give or take a few years." He went over to the explosive whatch-ya-ma-call-it, and started to tinker with it as they eyed his motions worriedly. "Right around the time the first Awoken started to show up; hierarchy was being established, power struggles, awoken panicking after waking up to find they weren't human anymore…a lot of civil unrest in the few refuges people could find on Earth and abroad, back before the Vex arrived. Now, I could be wrong…but it looks like this disease was specifically designed to cause awoken the most pain; to draw their deaths out the longest."
So Certech created this disease…to kill US? Why?
"What confuses me is how they engineered it so that the symptoms wouldn't kill so fast; there are people in the Last City who are coughing their lungs up, but are still kicking. In the early days, humans viewed our kind as a plague as much as they did the Darkness. This disease…must have been Certech's 'solution' to the 'problem'." Faroth sighed.
"So, let me get this straight." Silverhawk's voice came suddenly from directly behind Uldren. WHAT THE*Redacted^^*He jumped away from her, and the others all gave a start. Faroth looked from her to the door, which was still closed.
"How…?" his jaw opened and closed stupidly.
"We're fighting an ancient, genetically-engineered disease that was designed to kill awoken in the most painful way possible, we're down two fighter ships, all we have is mysterious directions to a cure that might have been destroyed between now and bout' three hundred years ago, Petra is holding Peppermint without getting bit or scratched or scarred for life(miracle of the century), Uldren has to re-grow his hair(and his ego), Martin needs better driving lessons(as usual), and we only have TWENTY-FOUR-HOURS, OFFICIALLY, to come up with a BRILLIANT and ingenious idiotic plan to synthesize a cure before Ikora dies and all nachos breaks loose. Am I missing anything? Cuz, that's the plan I'm seeing so far." She said all in one breathe. They all stared at her as she took a deep breath, regaining herself. "It's rude to stare, you know."
"Twenty-four hours!" Martin gripped the hair on top of his head, as if he was on the verge of pulling it out. "We only have twenty-four hours! We can't save known civilization in twenty-four hours! What was Cayde thinking, assigning us to this job!? What were we thinking!? Why is it always us? What's with the universe? WHAT IS LIFE!?"
Uldren buried his face in one hand, groaning internally.Not thisagain. He didn't even bother looking up when he heard the loud slap noise.
Hehe, talk about deja-vu.
Okay, first things first; Martenj. Do. You. SHIP IT?! Their little crush was kind of a "spur of the moment" kind of thing. Also, who liked Peppermint?^^ LoL, I just COULDN'T write a fanfiction where Uldren losses his haircut, and NOT have a scene where he get's bit by a cat.
And who knows; Silverhawk and Martin might not be mass-murderers...but Peppermint might very well be! Look out, Prince Jerkface; the predator is on the prowl!
By the way, Amberstar of Thunderclan has FINALLY posted her comedy harry Potter/Star Trek:DS9 fic: Why Dax Hates Pixies. Title is kind of self-explanatory, isn't it?
Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: Okay, thanks anyway. But yeah, like I said in my last A.N., I threw the "tripled human lifespan" out the window. I mean, just look at all the rotten stuff the apocalypse has exposed humanity to; lifespans are probably shorter now, and remember how I mentioned how I kind of threw the canon lore out the window? I've taken canon events and lore, and I've broke it down and built it back up in a way that pleases me. but Twilight Gap kind of plays an important role in Martin's past; I suppose I'll have to improvise and decide when Twilight Gap happened. And I think I might save Silverhawk's dream explosion for another day...the threequal, perhaps, since the sequal is-I SHALL NOT REVEAL! I SHALL STAND STRONG AGAINST THE PRO-MO SPOILER TEMPTATION! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
But yeah, now we have a ship! Not a spaceship; a romance ship. Ugh, never thought I'd be writing anything having to do with romance. Ew. You know, Amberstar of Thunderclan kind of puked in her mouth a little when she wrote her first kissing scene. It was hilarious; i made myself popcorn afterwards. But Petra and Martin aren't really going to be all that serious, I don't think; at this point, I'm thinking it would be best served as a shy little crush than as a full-blown "we're dating and everything" kind of thing. And I'm thinking of keeping it that way.
And GASP! We're almost finished! You know, I've been on this sight for bout' three years, counting my years with the Profile Death Glitch, but I've never finished a fanfiction. This is going to be pretty big for me. Chapter-wise, I think we've got about, three, maybe four to go now? It just depends on how long I choose to make them.
Speaking of length, this chapter is almost as long as chapter...oh, I think it chapter seven, I think, that was over ten thousand words long?
Question of the Day:What was your favorite part and/or line from this chapter? So far, what is your favorite part and/or line from this fic as a whole?
Next time: KRAKA-TOA! We head back to where the fic began, find out how things went so wrong for Silverhawk and Uldren, and why Martin wasn't with them. Time is running out...
*holds out little wooden bowl*:Please, sirs and madams...could you pretty please leave a review for my poor, little imagination here? We get so few donations...your kindness is appreciated. But, mostly just answer the QotD above. When this series(part three) ends, I want to make a montage/scrapbook-type chapter of people's most favorite/popular lines and moments.
That, and I just want to decide which one to put on a T-shirt.
LoL.
Next Time: Time is running out, and Uldren realizes the truth.
Cheers!^^