Chapter 29: The Invasion of Sanctuary (Part 2)
A white-gloved hand rhythmically tapped the device which lay upon a shadowy control panel. The trigger of the communicator ticked, this simple sound echoing through the bridge of the command ship. Grey eyes glowed with malevolence, after each click was answered with silence.
After one more useless click, a small huff escaped Admiral Koth's mouth. His gloved hand grasped the communicator and tossed it aside. The device clacked and clanked against the riveted metal floor. Neo-Terra's prime officer lost track of the object of his spite, for the dark room did not allow him to trace its path. He remained heavy of breath, as his vengeful sight remained on the ground.
"Idiots," he seethed, "They should have known."
Seravin, waiting patiently on the side of his Admiral, asked him with baited breath. "Sir, what now?"
Koth turned, leaning over the control panel. He scanned the various charts and graphs, the various buttons and triggers at his disposal. If his hands were not gloved, they would be chalk-white from gripping the panel quite tightly.
"If the Guardians will not help me," he declared, "Then we'll be destroying the prong ourselves."
The Admiral reached down for the communicator. His hand grasped empty air, and he raised his brows in realization. Without hesitation, he turned to Seravin, a hand held out along with a demanding glare from ice-cold gray eyes. After a moment of confusion, Seravin reached down to his belt, unclipping his own communicator from its holster. Koth didn't even return a look of appreciation to his underling as he brought the device to his face, turning a large dial plastered to its black face.
"Koth to all forces." he announced. His dark, yet cool voice echoed through every speaker and earpiece of the combined forces of the Eastern Hemisphere, "The GTE has jammed us. We will not be receiving any assistance. There is only one path for us to take. Destroy their subspace prong, or die. I will remember those who run away."
"So, no Guardians to save the day for us?" Seravin inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"You have a problem with that, Seravin?" Koth asked back.
Seravin's face played host to a grin, a grin that thirsted for the thrill and rush of battle.
"I could not have asked for a more perfect scenario. " he exclaimed. He then stood straight, saluting his Admiral, "Victor Neo Terra!"
Upon the ground, the large worm twisted and twirled. It looked similar to a sand dune that had sprung to life. Its craggy rough skin now hosted many sanin warriors, each looking akin to a bug on it's mighty frame.
Mahdi's purple eyes rose towards the skies. The Neo-Terran fleet had begun to ascend. Small dots, of what she could assume were the ki-capable warriors, exited the various dark, utilitarian hulls.
"It looks as if Koth is taking to the skies." she noted out loud. She turned round, smoothly as ever, even as the ground beneath her writhed and turned. Upon the back of the mighty worm, multiple figures clad in lightly tanned cloaks stood behind their leader. Hoods hung over the desert creatures' heads, obscuring their faces and other discerning features.
"We shall take the ground," Mahdi continued, "and leave none for our quarry to flee."
Her eyes appeared to intensify in luminosity, but only for a moment. The worm was driven on, as it picked up velocity, streaming straight for the prong. Sand and dust erupted as the mighty creature pressed on, forming a chaotic cloud.
The Imperial swarm had formed a white cloud, and had decided to take to the skies. Together, the mass of bodies resembled their own autonomous organism. The consistent shifting of soldiers within the mass gave the impression of a colossal amoeba, a single celled organism with a single purpose with no betrayal from within, nor deviation.
A stream of soldiers then shot out from the front, the rest following them. This white string streaked towards the airborne NTF forces with great velocity and ferocity. Compared with their opponents, the swarm of Imperial's, clad in gray and white, appeared greater in force and numbers than the black and navy blue clump of NTF soldiers.
Yet, dire odds only hastened the Neo-Terran Front. Helena was in the front, quick air whipping through her blonde hair. Her blue eyes were wide open, and glowed with anticipation, an excitement that only appeared to grow the closer they drew to the enemy. She looked back, her heart only speeding up as she saw her fellow soldiers, clad in black and blue, each with a glare that thirsted for action.
"Stay with me!" she commanded, tossing away her gloves in the process, "On our first pass, the first 500 shall fall!"
As the white gloves fell away, the luminosity of her golden hands were revealed by Capella's sunlight. The hands folded away, mechanical whirring directing every solitary gear and plate. Soon enough, where there were hands, there were now two barrels, with bores as wide as her arms. Down both of their sights, lay the swarm of Imperials.
There was an orange glow in front of Helena. This glow then erupted into bolts. Thousands upon thousands of glowing-hot projectiles shot towards the opposition.
GTE soldiers fell out of the sky akin to swatted flies. Many of these now departed souls suffered multiple hits to their torso or head area, their meek ki fields and armor serving little to halt the advance of Helena's attack. However, such as the nature of her gattling attack, many bolts simply shot through the massed formation without touching a single soldier.
Helena's blue eyes were full of delight. They could have glowed with crimson carnage in a certain light. She shouted in violent jubilation, her smile growing as the casualties grew on the Imperial side.
Instantaneously, the hoard broke off their approach. A large gap formed at the center of the Imperial line. This resulted in the group avoiding the brunt of Helena's barrage, and the Imperial casualties ceased.
Yet, just as soon as the Imperials had maneuvered, they had managed to make it past the NTF clump. They did not stop, but instead, in unison, headed towards the fleet of ships lagging behind.
Helena ceased her fire. She immediately retracted her built-in barrels back within her elbow joints. As she looked at the rows upon rows of masked soldiers streaming to the NTF vessels, her eyes grew wide with desperation. She let out a series of short exhales, and redirected her flight path, looping about and heading back to the fleet.
"The bastards are flanking us! Fall back, fall back!" she shouted, gesturing frantically with her arms. There were confused shouts, and the bold formation of the NTF had begun to crumble.
Gold flashes soon erupted around the fleet. The soft blue glow of shield systems began offering resistance, but soon, that gave way to orange flames and black smoke. Ugly holes, filled with fire, and twisted , stringy metal now dotted some of the ships' hulls. One piece of airborne artillery reached critical integrity, and detonated, filling the blue sky with a massive inferno, the shockwave rocking the ships around it.
The blocky frame of Koth's command ship was rocked with ki as well. It's shields proved to be more durable, with flashes of energy impeding barrage after barrage. Yet, these flashes of energy became weaker with each successive attack.
A second group of soldiers began to descend, heading straight for the sand warriors upon the giant worm. As with Koth's fleet, the monstrous creature was assailed with golden bolts. There was a mighty roar from the desert creature, the sound of a snake with a lion's mouth echoing throughout the sands. The sanin's sonic devices were pointed airborne, and the amplified waves of their voices began to chip away at the Imperial assault
Helena heard an electronic crackle in her ear. Her hand instinctively traveled there, the object proving of mild discomfort. She could hear the voice of her admiral. Despite the chaos erupting around him, as his vessel was rocked with barrages of ki, his voice remained firm and commanding.
"Do not worry about me!" he demanded, "Press forward! Destroy the prong, I have a few surprises for these bastards!"
Inside the ship, the crew of the bridge were shouting to one another, some asking for updates, others issuing commands. None commented on the dire situation, for they would dare not show such pathetic weakness under their Admiral's cold gaze.
"Ensign," Koth ordered to a man on his front, "Activate our electric field, we'll see how many of these gnats we can catch in our net!"
"Yes sir!" the man nodded, as he keyed in the appropriate sequence.
There was a massive crackle. Purple sparks danced around the hull of the flagship, illuminating every curve and crevice that the twin suns could not. They then flared out, filling the air around the fleet with electric lethality. Every Imperial caught in the lightning snare was instantaneously paralyzed, only managing small spontaneous twitches controlled by their unconscious mind. Others dropped from the sky, flying too close to the flagship, and suffering lethal damage from the intensity of the electric field.
This was all witnessed by Helena. Her group remained in the air, hovering between the fleet, and the white tower. As she turned away, she realized the path ahead contained no adversaries.
Her golden hands waved in the air, signaling the surrounding soldiers. "Together," she shouted, "Let us end this at once!"
Rows of Neo-Terran soldiers formed at Helena's flanks. Ki glowed in each hand, all directed to the spinning prong. With no cue at all, each soldier fired their attack at the same time. A rainbow show of destruction barreled its way towards the structure. The architects of it, the NTF, began to cheer in jubilation.
As soon as the ki reached its target, a white glow absorbed every attack. The energy dispersed, forming a dome-like outline around the prong, until it faded into nothingness. No attack made it through the shield, and the structure remained unscathed.
"Curses!" Helena spat out.
There was additional movement upon the surface of the subspace prong. A flat face of metal jutting out from near the top of the spire had begun to lumber downwards. This revealed an opening within the structure, rectangular in shape, wide and cavernous. Despite the harsh light of the twin stars bearing down upon it, darkness obscured what lay inside.
What this particular bay housed was made clear. Nearly 1000 more Imperial soldiers streamed out, all in attack velocity. Pale blue auras of fresh ki surrounded each unit. A significant number of soldiers that exited possessed command sashes on their jackets; far more than the previous swarm of troops.
Grunting, Helena clutched her mechanical hands within each other, resulting in a loud, obnoxious metallic crack of her artificial knuckles. Cool blue eyes scanned across her own ranks of navy-blue and black, memorizing the faces of her brothers and sisters. They were not the confident force they were before. The arrival Imperial reinforcements left many with blank stares on their faces, while others appeared to tremble.
Helena felt a tremor within herself. She brought up one of her golden hands, and saw it was shaking. Narrowing her eyes, she cast it aside.
"Good," she yelled suddenly, jolting many of her allies alive. Such a vocalization had even roused her own spirit. The hand that was shaking was now raised in a triumphant fist, appearing to punch out the sky itself. "I feared the Empire was going to make this too easy! Cheer up boys! Maybe if you put your mind to it, you can match my killcount!"
Seravin, surrounded by his fellows, some who still appeared drained, decided to contribute. "Damn you Helena!" he shouted, as he flew up to her, "I will reign supreme by the end of today!"
The Imperial lines bore down on the group. Sooner than later, they would reach such a distance that both sides could see the whites of the others' eyes. Various glows of ki formed at the hands of the faceless soldiers. But now, the show of strength was met by whoops and cheers from the NTF.
Black and blue soldiers launched a counterattack before the initial Imperial assault had even transpired. So quick was their blitz, that several Imperial soldiers were downed before a single energy blast had launched. It was as if the Empire had been assailed with a ferocious lightning strike. The Neo-Terran Front did not slow upon their first victory, and followed up with a fresh barrage of energy attacks. The 1000 strong force was finally able to return fire.
However, even as casualties began to mount on the NTF, distaster appeared a statistical certainty for the fresh GTE reinforcements. For every single NTF soldier felled, 20 Imperial soldiers were also eliminated. In mere minutes, the 1000 strong force had been whittled down.
"118.. 119 ... 120!" Helena chanted, as each Imperial fell victim to her attacks.
A soldier right next to her gave her a look of frustration, even as he continued to launch ki bolts into the Imperial formation.
"That's no fair sub-Admiral," he protested, "You had a head start!"
"Well then, I guess you're going to have to work harder!" Helena dismissed, giving him a wide smile. Her rate of fire doubled, as her underling could only shoot his commander a flustered look while he struggled to keep up with her.
...
The Arcosian biology was a rarity among many of the known species in the galaxy. Due their sturdy nature, and naturally powerful ki reserves, even environments as cold and vacuous as space proved no danger to the well-being of an Arcosian.
Yet, Reitoko himself felt as if he were in an environment even cooler and more vacuous than the blackest pits of space. Every drop of blood from the thin blade of O'brian sent shivers through his spine. The elder man's harsh gaze cut deeper than any sword, which did little to relieve Reitoko of his horrified stupor. Despite taking residence in a controlled environment, the Arcosian felt as if he could hardly breathe.
Reitoko was not the only one who had been overcome with shocked paralysis. O'brian's assistant, Silver, had grown just as pale as the Arcosian. Mr. and Mrs. Smitter were petrified as well, as Mrs. Smitter held in her trembling grasp, a satchel of newly grown senzu beans. Every soul in the room had become aware at what had transpired, and every soul in the room was now gripped with the growing dread of uncertainty.
There were no traces of Silver's cool analytical tone, as he meekly questioned, "Sir?"
Like a spark being set off, O'brian's head snapped around to confront his assistant. He had not lost his frightening glare, which only served to cause Silver to quake even more.
"If you value your life, leave this place!"
Silver nodded, swallowing a lump down his throat. With a wave of his hand, he gestured to the rest in the room. Hastily, men and women in cream-colored uniforms took to the doors. There was haste and desperation in their movements as they filed through the exits. However, none had become such overcome with emotion that they lost control of their nerves.
Near the rear of the group, Mr and Mrs Smitter could only stare at the still form of Reitoko. They dared not to look at the limp corpse of Benedict, for they too would be rooted in place. Instead, Mr. Smitter wrapped his hand around his wife's shoulder and hurried along, as she pulled the dingy bag of senzu beans close.
The gesture did not go unnoticed. O'brian's eyes had shifted to the departures, and he glared at the Smitters as they exited.
His eyes acquired a faint glow. Beams as thin as string shot out. As soon as he did this, the bag of senzu beans ignited, before disintegrating. All that remained of the senzu beans was black powder, which crumpled down into a small pile on the floor.
As a result of O'brian's actions, Mrs. Smitter lost her balance, taking Mr. Smitter with her. Both of them skidded on the floor, until they reached the doorway.
Mr. Smitter stared at the pile of ash. His face began turning red, and his hands turned into fists. He aggressively stood, glaring at the culprit of this act.
"You madman!" he shouted, his fists shaking in the air, "Do you want us to lose?"
"Why do you think I'm doing this you idiot!" O'brian shot back.
The words appeared far more effective than threat of force at silencing the engineer. His mouth hung open, but no words escaped. His eyes became a window to his soul, and behind their glossy exterior lay a million questions. Yet, despite this, his fists appeared to shake even more.
His eye then caught his leader. Reitoko appeared to be slowly exiting his trance. All signs that Reitoko had his mind set in the present had become visible. Slowly, Reitoko nodded, but this was not directed at O'brian.
Mr. Smitter's shoulder's sunk. He immediately felt two small, soft hands upon them. He looked back into the pleading eyes of his wife, and let out a defeated exhale. Without another word, the Smitters exited the room.
The door shut with a final slam, the lock secure in place. Now, the only being left in the room with O'brian was one who had no intention of exiting anyways.
"You better have a good explanation for why you just murdered one of my men, O'brian," Reitoko said.
He almost sounded indifferent as he stated his demand. Yet, O'brian could feel the icy anger of the Arciosian dripping through any word. When Reitoko punctuated the statement with his own name, it sounded as if he were referring to something fowl, something disgusting, something that only the pits of damnation would be generous enough to host.
"So he was yours?" mused the Guardian leader. Veins became visible on his forehead, as he countered, "Apparently you tolerate treachery except when it's against you!"
"Who in Frieza's golden galaxy enjoys being betrayed?" Reitoko replied. With each passing minute, the Arcosian grew more irate.
"You appear angry because you believe I'm ruining your chances for victory." O'brian continued, "But you are mistaken, there is no victory to be won here, nor will there ever!"
Reitoko snarled, "You assume killing Benedict in cold blood has nothing to do with it. A fatal error, commander."
His usual high-pitched voice had acquired a low growl. One could imagine that a chimera would sound similar.
O'brian huffed, folding his arms, his saber kept against his hip. "At least I've freed him from the consequences of Imperial victory. I'm simply doing what is logical in the face of inevitability."
"Their victory is not inevitable. We only need to destroy one! Just one! I just needed to hear the word!"
"And you think that's the end eh?" O'brian shouted. The Guadian leader, usually able to keep some semblance of composure was now waving his arms, a wild look in his eyes. "You think that's the only invasion we'll have to fend off? What about the rest of the Empire. What about him?"
"Him?" Reitoko inquired. He had only said this by instinct. He knew to whom O'brian was referring to.
"The Emperor," O'brian stated. His voice had gone from a wild shout, to a meek shudder. His head was clutched from two sides by bony hands. "You may ravage and conquer the GTE in its entirety, but as long as the Emperor stands, victory will always evade you."
As if in a trance of his own, the Guardian leader strayed off to the side. In the meanwhile, Reitoko had been slowly assuming a combat stance. His tail waved in the air, as his hands were bent like claws. His three-toed feet trotted carefully across the cool metal surface. He kept the form of O'brian centered in his vision, not even taking a chance to blink.
O'brian made it to the front window, overlooking the Guardian capital city. It was far less active than usual. The various vessels that had clogged its skies were now gone. People in garb of various expenses no longer trotted down its streets. For a moment, he had expected to see millions upon millions of grey-clad soldiers under the standard of the Galactic Terran Empire dot the horizon.
"Even now, I can feel his eyes on me." he explained, never turning to face Reitoko. "Even now, when he is an eternity away, I can feel his power. Have you ever, looked into an abyss, and never seen the end? You wouldn't be able to see if it blinked back at you. That is the Emperor for you. I don't even know if I can call him human any longer."
He exhaled, his old eyes taking in the crisp blue sky; graced with the intense light of the binary stars. Closing his eyes, his head bowed down.
"For your treachery, I'm not sure I can call you human either."
O'brian's eyes sprang open, possessed with bloody intent. "Enough!"
With reflexes that put light itself to shame, O'brian had whipped around, swiping his sword in a wide arc. Reitoko was nowhere near him, thus his blade appeared to cut nothing but air.
Yet, as soon as the action was completed, Reitoko felt something wet beneath his left eye. One of his hands traced over it. His eyes widened as he inspected his finger, for the liquid smeared on it was his own blood.
"You Arcosians utterly outclass us Terrans in terms of raw power." O'brian explained, making his way back. He was in no hurry, but his hand was gripped tightly around his sabre's hilt. "But I have been fighting for nearly all my life. You are battling against 70 years of experience! All I need to do is hold you here until it is all over!"
The room began to rumble. The more fragile instruments in the room had begun to emit sparks.
Reitoko's eyes had become sharp and focused. A pale blue aura of ki surrounded him, as he crouched down akin to a tiger ready to pounce.
"Then may the best warrior win!"
...
Across the world, the scene remained the same. The sky had grown dark, for even the stars couldn't touch the poles for that long. The atmosphere had become choked by ki, photons, and hypersonic projectiles. Men and machines piloted by men dueled with one another, diving, turning and maneuvering around.
The Imperials acted as one unit, their movements perfectly in synch with one another. This allowed them to concentrate their firepower on weak areas in the mercenary formation. Already, flashes of orange and clouds of black could be seen, soon followed by falling shards of super-heated metal.
However, the sporadic and almost unpredictable nature of the mercenary formation allowed them to keep the Imperials on high alert. Already, several ships were caught attempting to break away from battle and shoot towards the prong. Well-aimed ki blasts, however, stopped them in their tracks.
In the center of chaos, ducking and weaving along with every other vessel was the Iceni. Percy's knuckles were as pale as Reitoko's, jerking quickly and swiftly. Oriko maintained a neutral temperance, even as her body swayed and rocked with every maneuver. Percy, however, was sweating heavily. His eyes were a grim squint which was solely focused on the viewscreen, while his teeth were clenched so tightly he could have snapped a steel beam with them.
Every so often, the ship would shudder as another ki blast would impact it. Percy's eyes would dart desperately about, unable to focus on a single one of the faceless, gray-uniformed soldiers flying around him. Each blast, however, would be met by the strong glow of the Iceni's shield systems.
An olive colored hand reached to a control panel on the side. Taping on it, quick decisive instructions flowed out of the captain's mouth.
"Retreat to point A-2 ... No point B-3. We need to regroup and get our act together!"
Over a static storm, Percy could hear that not everyone warmly received his orders.
"Screw you guys, I'm not dying for you!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy spotted another dingy mercenary ship break away. The hunk of metal managed to weave through soldiers and vessels alike, making it away from the battle.
Once it had reached the open sky, however, a beam of blue had immediately bisected it. For a moment, a burning orange glow highlighted the gaping hole burned in its hull. It was then consumed by the inferno.
Percy let out a slow exhale as the short lived drama came to an end. "Well, I did warn him." he lamented.
He thumbed the communicator once more. The knob on it was adjusted, as he switched the channels. Instead of sending his message to the rest of the fleet, his voice echoed to the spinning gears and steaming pipes of the engine room.
"Vic, keep that power flowing, I'm about to give us a morale boost."
A smile materialized on Percy's face, as he observed power redirected towards the Iceni's weapons. His other hand, not occupied with the communicator, was placed on the trigger of the joystick.
The Iceni's proton cannon sprayed out a volatile purple wave, surrounded by jagged flashes of blue lightning. The bow of the bulky vessel swung about, spraying the motion wave of protons out in a wide area. Imperial soldiers, by virtue of arranging themselves in concentrated clumps, were caught by the dozens. Several were forced back from their position, as their hands shoved back against the volatile energy. Others were caught in the storm, and they were rendered into ash.
Shouts of joy could be heard over the mercenary channel, as many ships managed to break free from Imperial snares. "Hey, the Imps are pulling back! Let's head to the rally point!"
A space of air, free from flying soldiers and bulky freighters grew between the two groups. The ships began to clump together, forming their own pseudo-amoeba. However, instead of flesh and blood driving it, it was driven by steel and electricity.
This separation would not last long. The Imperials were quick to regroup. Disarray had been stamped out of their formation the instant it had dared to appear. Clumps of soldiers which once flew around like birds in a storm now glided with the winds of their comrades.
Percy observed the approaching storm, as rows and rows of Imperial soldiers bore down upon them. However, there was a glow in his eyes, and his gritted teeth were hidden behind a smile. He clicked on the communicator one last time.
"Alright boys," he announced, his voice taking on much bravado, "Remember this? Merc horns!"
"Merc horns?" squeaked Victor's inquiry from the inner-ship's communications
"Just keep those shields up and my guns fed boy!" Percy responded.
He turned to Oriko, who was currently preoccupied at her station. Her large hands, clad in metal gauntlets dwarfed many of the controls, yet she somehow was able to nimbly navigate across the dash board. Yet, when Percy said to her, "On standby honey," she ceased all activity.
Oriko turned back to the captain, giving him a small smile. She reached to the sword on her back, it clicked with a sharp metallic sound as she checked that it was secure in its holster. Her helmet, which had been resting on her lap, despite Percy's momentous maneuvering through the air, was now clasped in her hands. As she exited the cockpit, she fit it over her head, obscuring any and all features of her face, leaving only two obsidian-colored eyes with which to view the oncoming catastrophe.
By the time the mercs had fully regrouped, the Imperials were already upon them. Caught in the middle of organization, the ships scattered, many veering off on random vectors. Unable to concentrate their firepower, the Imperial soldiers acted with impunity as they swarmed through the opposition.
However, to the flanks of the Imperial mob, the mercenaries had begun to synchronize. Ships flying off in random patterns, now escorted their fellows in near-militarized battle-lines. In two, the mercenaries had split, forming a pair of spear-headed formations that now approached the sides of the Imperial formation, while the ships in the center had begun to stabilize. With these new developments, the Imperials had been successfully enveloped.
The Iceni lead from the left. On his screen, Percy saw something he liked, thousands of backs facing him, unaware of what was about to be unleashed on them.
"Always loved that one!" he commented aloud, even though he was the only one in the cockpit. He turned to the back, shouting through the door. "Alright honey, give 'em hell!"
The landing ramp of the Iceni had begun to lower. One figure stood at the opening, the metallic behemoth of Oriko. She did not linger there for long. Her ki aura flared out, streaming behind her, tracing her path of flight from the freighter, spearing into the Imperial formation.
She unsheathed her blade, and swung, all in one motion. Two Imperials at the edge of the formation were cut in two, lacking the necessary time to even turn and face her attack. Immediately following her first strike, a massive purple beam of energy smashed into several other Imperials, disintegrating them.
The rest of the mercenaries opened fire, and the Imperial formation that once demonstrated strength and coordiation was now quickly vanishing under concentrated firepower.
…
Unlike the other two battlefields, this one was quiet. Both sides had yet to make a move.
One side possessed a wild collection of fighters. Anthromorphic wolves, dogs, cats, and other collections of animal-men were gritting their teeth and baring their claws. Phonium, Shere Khan, and Ovosh led the pack. Ovosh had become aware of all of her bodily nuances. She could feel every breath, every growl, every shiver of wind. She looked to her left, where Phonium stood, as still and expressive as a statue. Further away from her, Shere Khan was emitting a low rumble, and appeared ready to tear each Imperial head from their shoulders.
Markova's eyes scanned the ragtag group before them. She wore a mask of indifference, and indifference, was what she had in mind. The two at her flanks, Bolshoy's massive frame to her right, Meya's lanky figure to her left, waited upon her word for their next move.
Her gaze resumed upon those who opposed them. She saw the citizen that had been their concern for the past month, the citizen of whom they could not make a move against. Their target was not as pathetic as she was when they had last met. Her arms were broader, more defined. She air danced with confidence and control. And her gaze radiated what Markova herself felt deep beneath, excitement and bloodlust.
"MASENKO HA!"
Two golden masses of concentrated ki energy had begun barreling towards the Imperial trio. The Right Hand of the Emperor was shaken from her stupor, as the cacophony of golden destruction barreled towards her. Without a word, the three Imperials scattered, practically vanishing, with only a whisp of smoke, and a mirage indicating that they were there before.
Her two companions had veered off to the sides. Her eyes darted, searching for them. However, she felt another presence materializing before her.
Ovosh had charged straight for Markova. Her blood had become hot, rushing through every vein and artery in her body, filling her heart, and infiltrating her mind. The wind flew in her face, whipping back her dark brown hair, yet it did little to deter her. She only hastened her approach, seeking to exploit Markova's vulnerability, for her arms were down, leaving her torso and all its soft contents unprotected.
She pulled her hand back, feeling her biceps bulge from ki, blood and electric ecstasy, and threw it forward. Such a blow, she felt, could have punched the planet in two.
However, her fist met a stiff forearm, courtesy of Markova. Her immaculate jacket suffered not even a wrinkle. Her arm did vibrate, and for a moment, the Emperor's servant showed far more white in her eyes than was warranted.
Markova struck back with a punch of her own. Ovosh barely had time to blink before she beheld a white-gloved fist inches from her nose. She had managed to catch the Imperial's attack between her own two forearms, yet holding Markova's arm in place was akin to holding back a speeding comet.
Ovosh threw her forearms to the side, threatening to dislocate Markova's arm, but the Imperial managed to escape her snare, and throw another punch. Ovosh had to now defend herself from a barrage of fists from the Right Hand, and would often be caught off guard at how quickly each successive one arrived. Her hands moved frantically to cover each fist, yet despite her best efforts, she felt herself falling behind.
Soon enough, Markova broke through, striking Ovosh hard on the cheek. The force of the blow itself threw Ovosh's head back. Following up were successive strikes then landed on her gut, making her feel as if she would eject her organs.
A white-gloved hand wrapped around her neck. Air that had been taken for granted during battle now became a rarity. She opened her mouth, but could find no relief. She felt a thumb press into her trachea, rendering breathing through her nose absolutely futile. With oxygen becoming precious, Ovosh felt her legs kicking.
Markova could feel her own blood flowing faster as she secured her victory, for at last, life from her target began to fade away. Motion from her opponent began to slow, sooner than she expected, and she pressed even harder.
But, there was a glint in the citizen's eye. Quicker than eye could see, Ovosh had grabbed Markova's arm with both of her hands. A malicious smile appeared on the girl's face, even as her actions served little but to lock Markova's arm in place.
Markova then felt a massive presence of ki right behind her. Her eyes widened, and she began to whirl around. Before she could see who it was, she was struck hard in the head. She felt her arms go numb, and her skull vibrate.
Her outstretched arm was smacked aside. Markova looked up, still reeling from the surprise attack. She was still surprised to see Ovosh, well and active, winding up a haymaker of a punch.
Ovosh struck, hitting Markova square in the chin. The Right Hand was sent flying back through the air. Her eyes were shut, and her teeth were gritted. She could even feel the tiniest trickle of blood in her mouth.
Both Phonium and Ovosh followed the incredibly direct flight path of Markova through the air. If the Imperial would open her eyes, she would see two pale blue streaks of ki headed towards her. Yet, just as the two were about to reach the flying Imperial, Bolshoy materialized in front of them.
Still, they both struck out, and Bolshoy crossed his arms to block. Both of their punches, with significant power to back them, seemed to clank of the Emperor's Shield, making no marked effect on the massive man. But, before they could put up a concentrated assault, out of the corner of Phonium's eye, he could see thin blue streaks headed towards him. Both immediately raised their arms in defense, and as the streaks were deflected, the shine of Meya's flying blades were made apparent.
Immediately, the two retreated, both vanishing in thin air. Back to the pack of the White Fang they went. Many in the ranks of animals appeared rather pale, despite some not possessing visible skin. There were hushed whispers among them, all with a sense of dread at the task before them.
The three Imperials, reunited once more, held there position. Their opponents had not moved to attack them. Meye turned back, his dull green eyes as unreadable as always. Her glared at Markova, who currently was wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. A thin streak of red now colored her once immaculate white gloves. She appeared to regard the blood with incredible disgust and anger.
"Remember, the hand is useless without a sword," he lectured, with barely any inflection.
"Or a shield to protect it." Bolshoy added on, pumping one of his fists, making an attempt to emphasize every syllable.
Markova's gaze veered between the two. Both had suffered not a scratch. Meya was still, indifferent waiting, while Bolshoy stood straight, and wore an expression of pride on his face. Slowly, a smile crossed her face.
"Your objection is noted." she acknowledged, with Bolshoy returning her subtle gesture of gratitude. "Very well then, let's show them the might of the Emperor!"
Just then, another attack was upon them. This time, it was led by Shere Khan. He was followed by scores of his followers. Many species of animal had joined this fight, but now, it was as if they were an angry pack of wolves.
An eager smile crossed Bolshoy's face. Immediately, Markova and Meya retreated back a short distance, while the Emperor's Shield faced the onslaught of the White Fang. He was assailed by claws and teeth, yet to the White Fang, it was as if they were trying to claw apart a solid iron wall.
A white flash zipped through the ranks of the White Fang. Meya veered to each of the opposition, at a velocity that made the speed of light green with envy. His hand moved even quicker. With great precision, he was able to tap key points of ki. Multitudes of warriors felt themselves struggling to even stay airborne, as their supply of ki had begun to be cut off.
But what was to follow was even more frightening. In both of Markova's hands, pulled back behind her waist, was a massive blue ball. Once the full effects of Meya's efforts had set in, Markova thrust her hands forward.
"KAMEHAMEHA!"
The blue turtle wave sheared through the White Fang with lethal ferocity. Many were returned to the elements of their creation, pure ash that mixed with the sand and dust in the air.
Khan looked back, his eyes wide, for those he committed to lead had perished in an instant. Blood filled his eyes, and he charged Bolshoy. The large man raised his arms to defend, but Shere Khan was not looking for an opening on the man's torso. Opening his mouth, his canines dug down into the massive arm, piercing the sleeves and digging into flesh.
Bolshoy's eyes were made of fire as he glared down at the White Fang leader. A hand had clasped the Shere Khan's face, and begun to pry away his mouth. There was massive shaking as Khan's jaw was slowly raised, blood dripping from his fangs. Khan growled as he tried to force his mouth shut once more, with little success.
Bolshoy leaned in, looking into Khan's eyes.
His voice became a mighty shout, "For the Empire!"
Bolshoy's knee rose up, barreling the White Fang leader in the chess. The anatomy of the wolf-man differed from that of human beings, yet under the unrelenting force of the Shield of the Emperor, all were reduced to the same. Blood was in his gut, and it was soon ejected from his mouth. The mortal liquid managed fly past Bolshoy, sparing his immaculate jacket from staining.
Shere Khan was thrust back, flailing through the air. Such was the blow dealt to him that he could not regain control. Just then, two figures, a cat-man and a wolf-woman, both in rugged White-Fang ware, both wearing concerned looks on their faces, caught their leader. Khan was prevented from flying further back, as they both supported his jet-black furry arms.
"Just three of them," the wolf-woman said, her voice wavering and shaky, "But they took out nearly half of our regiment."
Shere Khan shook both of his arms quickly from his subordinates, both of them quite willing to allow their leader to support himself. One of these arms were wiped across his bloody maw. The fur became matted with the slick of blood. Yet, he showed no horror, nor disgust at his injury.
Instead, he could only growl, a fierce scowl upon his face, "Nothing less from the Empire's finest, I would expect."
The three remained still. Their gaze became one, glaring at all opposition. Some of the White Fang trembled, for it felt as if the Emperor himself peered through the looking glass.
A wisp of air, and the teleportation of two others on their side managed to divide their attention. Ovosh and Phonium had rejoined.
The Namekian gazed at the reduced fighting force. With great decisiveness in his voice, no hint of wavering, nor fear, nor sorrow, he advised, "Separating them should be our top priority, they worked far too quickly for me to intervene."
Shere Khan shook his head, bringing his golden eyes to a close.
"Any suggestions?"
Phonium did not answer. He turned back, back to the enemy. The Emperor's servants remained still as statues even now. He too could feel their gaze upon him. For a moment, he could imagine himself in another time, another place. Instead of floating over a sea of sand, he would be over water. Mesas and mountains littered the sea, spoiling it with natural beauty of blue grass, and mighty trees. That vision only appeared for an instant, for they had taken it away.
Sure taking their sweet time in engaging us. But then, their priority is to protect the prongs, not to eliminate us. Still, I wonder what the gap between them and us is. Do we really register so insignificantly as a threat?
"Keep the big one occupied," he demanded. The Namekian's stone gaze turned to steel, "We'll target the soft underbelly."
Without a word of objection, or acknowledgement, the White Fang readied themselves. Each member clenched their fists, the air in close proximity to them becoming choked with ki. This concentration of power created mirages in the air, creating the illusion that the land before them was in some sort of sea. Before long, the ki became corporeal, an ethereal pale-blue that surrounded and permeated each member. The edges of this communal aura begun to resemble wolf's fur.
The voice of Shere Khan echoed through the desert, "Fist of the Great Wolf!"
The White Fang's ki took the image of a fierce wolf's claw. Talons, as long as three men extended out from their lethal formation. Within the image, members had begun rearranging themselves, in order that they could adjust to the claw's dimensions. Their movements were sharp and sure, and soon enough, they all charged forward as one.
The claw reached for Bolshoy, who braced himself. Five talons wrapped around his massive frame. Markova readied herself to fight off the attack, brandishing her fists, but as soon as she could even glare at her attackers, they were gone. Nearly a dozen anthros had taken to biting down upon Bolshoy, sinking their teeth into his arms, his legs, and even his torso. The man let out a roar, as he shook his limbs, trying to shake off his antagonizers, but to no avail.
Markova turned to Meya, preparing to issue him orders, when something caught her eye. She stopped. Floating across from the remaining two, were Phonium and Ovosh, each situated nearly 20 meters apart. They were close enough, that Mura could make out the necessary details of their faces. And she could see that the Namekian was smiling.
"Well well well, Imperials," he taunted, in a voice deeper and rougher than before, "looks like it's just the four of us."
To be continued...