The next morning, hundreds of kilometers away, Xantos, and his crew were asleep, except for Lee, who couldn't stand the tasteless rations anymore and went out to get real food.
Xantos's slumber was abruptly cut off for some reason he couldn't understand, but soon came to be thankful for. Groaning, he awoke, then turned over and noticed his Lieutenant was missing. Glancing through the transparent window, he saw Lee as a tiny figure outside. What's he doing out there? Xantos carefully stepped over sleeping soldiers, and lifted the thick cloth that covered the hole leading outside.
In the dark, rosy hue of pre-sunrise, Xantos spotted Lee at a low, thick bush. He made his way over to the lesser officer, more jogging than walking, glad to be out of the crowded shuttle. "Hey!" He called out.
Lee turned with a surprised look on his face. "Uh, hi, sir."
"What brings you outside at the crack of dawn."
"I hate military food, I need fresh air, my legs hurt, and I needed to relive myself. Besides, I took the comlink. It's on the fritz though, I'm getting pieces of conversation every now and then." Lee held up the tiny device. It garbled static, but occasional words came through.
A few words caught his attention though. "…storm put us behind… get the cannon…"
"Wait, what was that?" Xantos asked.
"I dunno, maybe a military transmission. Morhin's got a lot of superweapon projects going around. He loves to see destruction."
"Mm. Hear anything about them?"
"Just one. It's his first space-based weapon, very accurate and strong. Who knows what he'll use for target… practice…" Lee's last few words were barely audible.
The comlink burbled some more messy transmission. "Fire… ten seconds…"
Lee and Xantos glanced at each other for several heartbeats, then took off in a dead sprint away from the doomed shuttle.
Xantos could've sworn for a moment that an angry god sent its wrath down from the heavens. A red light, bright enough to make pre morning into a bright day, rained down on the shuttle. Focused energy vaporized metal in a blink of the eye. Anything in the beam's kilometer wide diameter was gone in a puff of smoke. The rocky ground beneath the terrible energy melted and buckled, forming a near perfect circle in the Earth. For several seconds, the laser unleashed its fury on the helpless shuttle and its unknowing passengers then thinned itself many times over and disappeared.
The wave of heat hit Lee and Xantos mere seconds later, sending them flying back several meters. Both rolled a short distance, though the Commander recovered faster. Even so, a full half-minute passed before either spoke.
"Our… we… that… oh God." Lee couldn't find the right word.
"Everyone else… and our supplies…" Xantos was equally as dumbfounded.
There was another long, uncomfortable pause. "We'll… have to find another squad or… a town." Lee's voice faltered under the long odds.
"Morhin…" Xantos said the name like it was poison on his tongue. "He must've known about this."
"Why would he try to kill us?"
"He's got a lot of Commanders to spare, what's one less?" Xantos threw his hands up.
Lee sighed, breathing out what he'd forgotten he was holding in. "So now what… sir?"
Xantos turned with a disapproving look in his eye. "No more 'sir'. From now until we're back to civilization, we're equals."
"Uh, right, Xantos."
"Now then, where's that comlink?"
Lee held up the device. He pressed the 'talk' button and spoke into it. "This is a distress call to any Morhin Army units. Mayday, we are stranded a hundred miles west from San Francisco." He paused, waiting for a response. "Repeat, we are stranded a hundred miles west from San Francisco, is anyone out there?" Nothing, not even static replied.
Xantos snatched the comlink away, inspecting it. He flipped open the compartment on the back, and discovered it was empty. "Piece of crap." Xantos crushed it beneath his heel. "You took the one without batteries. Got anything else on you?"
"Some of those berries, and a blaster." Lee pointed to his hip.
"Any ammo?"
"Nope."
"Well, it'll make a good club. I don't have anything but my survival instincts. That should be enough."
"Sun's coming up, over there is east." Lee pointed at the ball of light.
"Know any city's nearby? Towns?"
Lee shrugged. "Not a one."
"This is going from bad to worse pretty damn fast, eh?"
"Well, the farther east we go, the better the odds we'll find something of Morhin's."
Xantos looked at the bleak eastern horizon. "There's not much out there but desert. I wish I'd stopped for a drink from the canteen."
"Too late for that. But these berries are pretty juicy. We'll have to conserve a quite a bit."
"Could we make it back to the city? Pose as travelers?"
"Could we go four days with a few drops of water?" Lee said. "I could go two, maybe three. Four is seriously pushing it. And I haven't had anything since last night. Nothing stopping us though, let's get going."
Xantos took another look around. "Look, they shot the cannon, maybe someone will come to inspect the site."
"Possible. Not a hundred percent though. We're not getting anything done out here, we have to find someone or something."
The Commander grimaced underneath his robes. He was quiet for a moment before saying, "It's bleak out there. I don't want to be found when my bones are bleached in the sand."
"So what do you suggest we do, because at this point survival eludes us no matter what we do." Annoyance laced Lee's voice.
"I can see that." Xantos said with an equally frustrated tone. That wasn't the only thing he saw.
A little black airborne robot was making its way to the blackened scar in the earth. It paid no attention to either man. A tinny, genderless voice came from a hidden speaker. "Scout Droid 88304 reports no evidence of testing shuttle. Mission completed, returning home." With that, it about-faced and floated in the other direction.
Xantos and Lee looked at each other for a moment and sprinted away for the second time that day.
General Skot Homidon was not happy to hear his best sniper, his favorite pilot, four special ops troops and an expert code breaker were in enemy's hands. Nor was he happy to hear reports of superweapon testing near his base.
The aging General scratched at his shock white beard, as he often did with nervous or thinking hard. He had gotten a transmission through to another resistance organization, but not with the kind of people he wanted. The Peace Reformers as they called themselves, were religious nuts, but saw Morhin as an agent of the devil. They preferred to live on their own and had very strict rules, making them hard to bargain with.
"Please, Minister. We must think rationally. I know your group has many rules and regulations, but they hinder our alliance talks to the point where agreement is impossible."
"The Minister wishes to remind Mr. Skot Homidon that it is not his place to bend our Commandments. We do not appreciate those who think they are above God's law."
"Can we please move on? Perhaps we don't need to merge into one power. Would a loose alliance interest you?" Homidon tried to prevent the meeting from going in circles.
Though they were around the same age, the General was getting the impression the Minister was senile. "I hope you put a lot of time into praying for forgiveness. Mocking our power, the thought! We do not need help for our righteous stand. God will see our holy movement and swoop down to protect us!
He's arrogant too. Actually, Homidon had heard about the Peace Reformers rugged, durable Angeleyes. They were heavily plated and shielded, and armed with a quartet of Supernova Tech Inc. laser cannons, not to mention seeker rockets and sophisticated computer targeting systems. They could help a lot in any battle. Also there was the enormous, and spaceworthy, Moses. A behemoth of a ship, but one with an incredible amount of firepower and a rumored four squadrons of their strong ships.
Anyone would be interested.
"I understand and respect your beliefs, but you must understand, everyone can't see to through your eyes. If we don't set aside our differences, we'll fall one at a time."
The Minister sniffed. "If you're suggesting we drop everything we stand for, then this discussion is closed." The monitor winked itself out. Homidon groaned. There goes another one.
He stood up, feeling more weary than usual. My knees are cracking, and I wasn't in that seat for more than ten minuets. The General made his way to the door leading outside of his office, receiving a pair of casual salutes by both guards. He boarded an empty elevator, and pressed the button for the hanger. Lines of light swept upwards as he descended farther down into his base. At the cavern of a hanger, he looked around at his meager squadron.
There was a trio of RA-21 Razorbacks. Big, pokey bomber ships. They had just two simple
Starlight Industries Dart-class lasers, but a nice payload of ATS Bombs, and Electron Rockets. Too bad they were only half loaded. Across from those were five Epee-class Sunspot Shipyards multi-purpose ships. The Sunspot shipyards were known for making ships based on a similar style, frame, and computer system. They ranged from tiny; shieldless Geckos to the lumbering heavy assault Cyclops. Epees were somewhere in the middle with tight maneuvering and a strong shield projector.
The General also possessed an old freighter, named the Ram's Charge because it was a speedy little thing. She was probably in the best condition of all his ships, and a little welding here and there would make it able to go into space. Sixty meters of beauty.
Nine ships. Hardly a fleet. Maybe he should get back to forging alliances.
"Sir, sir!" A young woman came calling for Homidon. "We've been looking for you all over. There's been a distress call, and we're reading three corvette-class ships with a dozen Centaurs on their tail. Shall we defend them?"
"Yes, quick, get the turrets and missile launchers running." Homidon followed the messenger up the elevator to the listening post, where a message was playing itself repeatedly.
"…are under attack! This is the Emerald Sunshine; we have a squadron of Morhin's ships intercepted us. Please, we are a peaceful vessel. We are under attack!"
"Patch me in before they hail every enemy ship for a hundred miles." A radar watcher quickly tapped something on his keyboard, than turned on the speaker. "Attention Ruby Sunshine, this is the General Skot Homidon of RAM. We've pinpointed your location. Head into the city and we'll cover you so you can land."
A relieved masculine voice replied. "Oh, thank you General. They've been taking potshots at us for hours. We're in desperate need of repairs."
"Alright, relax, and we'll take you into our hanger." Homidon turned to another man sitting beside him. "Send them a route."
"Already on it." He said absently while madly typing and clicking.
"We're receiving the data… thanks again RAM."
It was a short firefight while the Emerald and it's sister ships found the gaping hole leading underground. Bright flashes of red and azure easily scared off the twelve Centaurs. Two went spiraling into the skeleton corpse of abandoned buildings, and another went limping with only one of its three engines online.
The Emerald Sunshine, and its smaller sister ships, the Firescape and the Neptune's Trident each settled down in a cleared zone, smoking free engine fumes and spilling out relieved passengers. Some even broke out into song. The captain of the Emerald Sunshine, a lean, short, middle aged man named Earl Benningway, said with a surprisingly deep and raspy voice, "Thank you once more General Homidon. My friends and me rescued these people from a terrible pack of Horzumon. Digimon population seems to be exploding lately, though that's good for Morhin. Out of pity, we evacuated what was left of the population. Morhin has eyes and ears everywhere though, and it seems he wants more slaves than ever." He leaned closer to RAM's leader. "Some of the refugees here know something about the tyrant's plans. Something big is under way. Something very, very big." His voice returned to normal. "Erhem, anyway, I was hoping I could bring these five hundred people some hot food and a place to stay."
"Five hundred? Mm, we'll have to double bunk some people, but we have plenty of food. Not the best steak you'll ever taste, but it's filling. And why don't I call down a mechanic team."
A loud bang from the Firescape echoed through the hanger, silencing everyone.
"Or two." Homidon added after the brief quiet.
Taichi would've done anything for a blaster right now. He didn't care if there were fifty-odd soldiers out there; he'd have the pleasure of taking a few down with him. It was presumably late in the morning because he'd woken up a few hours ago, and there were no windows or clocks in the cell. Sora was awake when he opened his eyes, but probably still in a sour mood.
A sliver of light showed itself on the floor of the concrete. A pair of bowls filled with some disgusting meal slid and clattered against the other two bowls from last night as a male voice grunted, "Breakfast."
Neither prisoner bothered to get up and retrieve the food.
Taichi began to lose track of time, taking up the time by throwing pebbles within his reach at the other wall. They made quiet little pings as they ricocheted off the metal. Soon, a bare circle was around Taichi, so he moved to the other side and started all over again. Sora was asleep again, so she didn't snap at him to cut it out. Before Taichi could make another empty area around him again, the door creaked open. Taichi's eyes hurt from adjusting to the light change for the first time in awhile.
The guard kicked the bowls aside and grunted more than talked, "Get up." Taichi was unnecessarily shoved up while a second guard rudely woke Sora up. Groggily, she stumbled along with Taichi, hands secured behind her back. They were led through the halls into the bright noon sunlight outside. "Yer` lucky it'll be only eighty degrees today. Can hit a hundred in the worst part a` summer."
Taichi was right when he guessed there was a shipyard behind the prison. There were four capital ships, there, a multitude of ships, and nearly three hundred mixed Digimon and humans. One larger frigate was hardly a skeleton, where most of the prisoners were working. The other two, huge battleships, looked like a fifth of them had been ripped clean off. Only half as much servants were tending to either one. The last was a large cargo ship, which only needed a coat of paint on its gray metal hull.
Both guards dropped them off at a small, open window building with a large fan cooling the troops watching the slaves. One of the occupants grabbed a pair of large rings, which resembled collars. One snapped open and clamped around Taichi's neck. "What am I, a dog?" He said with a growl
"Heh, I wouldn't talk like that." The guard grasped in his hand, a device with just two buttons. He pressed the top button, and Taichi felt like a hundred needles had pricked his throat, several times. He groaned involuntarily as the electricity danced through his veins.
"You misbehave or slack off, we give you a shock. And remember, we can control the power settings from light zap to deep fry."
Sora cried out as one was hooked onto her. The collar fit snugly and couldn't be taken off.
"Both of you will be working on the frame for that ship. You can rest for the night once you're done welding the bars together. Now get out there before I give you another shock. Go, go!"
Taichi and Sora went through the afternoon miserably. The other prisoners were friendly to each other and them, showing whom to look out for and what not to do. Injuries occurred often, for there was no safeties on saw blades or welding lasers. Digimon were there too, quite a lot of them. Most had bad welts and bruises, some missing fingers or toes or other body parts. Apparently, Digimon were treated worst than humans, and clearly resented it. One group would work on the port side while the other manned the starboard. Water was passed around sparingly, some donating it to weaker captives who needed it more than them.
About four 'o clock in the afternoon, one little Digimon, who Taichi thought was a Terriermon, collapsed under the boiling sun. Digimon rushed to block him from view of the overseers to protect him from the electricity. He was lightly nudged and given some sips of water, but still couldn't pick himself up.
It was five minutes later when he was discovered. "Get up you lazy bum, you're not finished." The Terriermon cried out meekly as the overseer delivered a painful kick. With what little strength he had left, the poor Digimon stood up again and took a few tiny, halting steps, only to trip over himself.
The shock came, jolting the Terriermon off the ground. Taichi realized there was no difference between the collars they put on humans and the smallest Digimon. That Digimon's not gonna last. The electricity flowed for a painfully long time. Still, the Terriermon couldn't find the power to raise again. Several more brief shocks coursed through the creature's body.
Sora couldn't stand it anymore. "Will you leave him alone!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. She lunged in front of the guard, blocking the gasping Digimon from the beam that activated the collar. Tears sprang to Sora's eyes as a strong jolt arced through her nerves.
"What the hell you doing? I'm gonna` call security if you don't return to your work in silence."
Sora gave him a look of defiance.
"Look, girl, you don't move, and I'll give you a jolt too." Despite the mirrored plate in front of his head, Sora could tell the man's eyes were as venomous as the tone in his voice, but she refused to move. Taichi had to step in before Sora got an unpleasant punishment. "Sora, don't get on his nerves."
"Smart advice." The trooper said. His thumb poised over the Shock button.
Taichi subconsciously begged her to move. As though she could hear his thoughts, Sora stepped aside, seeing her eyes glaring fire in the reflection of the man's helmet. The guard picked up the Terriermon roughly by a floppy ear. Before blacking out, he silently pleaded with Sora to rescue him.
With more tears about to dribble down her cheeks, Sora thought to herself. She would've gone after him, taken on the guard, tucked the tiny Digimon under her arm and bolt for the desert outside, had Taichi not placed a hand on her upper arm. "Let it go Sora. We'll get out of this, and free these prisoners. Maybe not in that order, but one thing at a time."
For the better part of the day, Xantos and Lee were doggedly chasing the little probe. With little food, they had to eat on the run, often dropping the overly sweet berries. The last thing Lee remembered was his vision blurring, and complaining between gasps of breath that he had a headache. Moments later, he was down with his face in the thin, brown grass.
When he awoke, the red-stained sky shone dimly above him. Nearby, Xantos sat watching ahead of them. Lee waited for his vision to become less dim before noticing the huge obstacle in their vision. It looked down on them and mocked them for their stupidity. It loomed with a gargantuan shadow that blocked the setting sun, also reflecting Xantos's mood.
It was a cliff. A sheer rock wall going up about four hundred feet. Climbing would take days. If they found a cave they could even sleep. I can't believe nature made this. It's like the world itself doesn't want us go there. "Erg, I don't remember that being there." Lee tongue felt like sandpaper on cement. His throat begged for water.
"I carried you a little ways." Xantos explained. His voice, despite being robotic, sounded disheartened. "Looks like this is the end of the line for us. I'm thirsty as hell, and there's no more food or water left."
"Well, aren't you the optimist." Lee wheezed.
"Would you like me to say 'oh boy, I can't wait for the rescue ship to come and pick us up with a gallon of water for me to chug.' That's just being annoyingly happy."
Lee didn't reply right away. Finally, he picked his head up. "You know, I could've sworn I heard en engine."
"Oh please, your brain must be drying up too." Xantos fell back, spread eagle. "No one's coming to rescue us. No one knows where we are." For a long moment, he let his words hang in the air. Then he spoke through bone dry lips. "Lee, I've never told this to anyone before, what I really look like, why I disguise myself, how it all happened. No one else knows, I killed all the doctors, and I never spoke of it to anyone. I… think I should tell at least one person before I die out here. Just to get it out, what I've stupidly been holding in." Xantos coughed roughly.
"I'm listening." Lee's voice was barely audible. It was only then that he realized how close to death he was. Running for hours waterless was incredibly stupid and absent minded of him.
"Out there is a man named Taichi Yagami. He is my sworn enemy. He destroyed my life, everything in it. I can't quite recall it completely, but… he…" Xantos went through another fit of hacking and coughing. "He made me get surgery, on everything. For a year and a half, I was in bed. It felt like every bone in my body was broken." With much strain, the Commander sat up and lifted his hood.
Lee wished he could turn his head to see his friend's face, but his muscles refused to move. Xantos couldn't hold himself up, and ended up falling and filling Lee's vision. One eye, icy blue, the other, crimson from an implant. His head looked like one big scar, blacker than flesh colored. Lee took one last breath, or was that the engine again? Before closing his eyes for the last time.
"You want to what!?" Captain Benningway spoke for himself and his fellow leaders, a snaggle toothed, biped Gatormon, and a gray-streaked woman a head taller than the lead Captain called Trish DeSoto. All four were gathered in Homidon's office, discussing "terms"
"You heard me. I'd like to convert your corvettes into battle-ready, space worthy corvettes." Homidon's folded his hands and placed them in the middle of his large desk.
"Surely, General, you are crazy. We are but simple transporters. We cannot fight a war." The woman Captain spoke up."
"Please, Trish, don't act so rashly." Earl muttered under his breath. "Even so, I must agree with my companions. We appreciate your hospitality, but our ships are not battle ready."
"Hear me out. RAM has a motley assortment of ships. A ground war? Fine. But if Morhin wised up and bombed our city… well, we have turrets, but not for high altitude. And with your rumors, a space-based weapon will make the Earth a shooting gallery, with other factions as the targets."
Captain Benningway and his two companions exchanged glances. The Gatormon spoke up, his enormous jaws and teeth clicking together. His scratchy voice matched his fierce look. "General Homidon, we know our ships inside and out. I could fly Neptune's Trident through a fog-filled canyon at midnight. Our ships were not meant for war though. I cannot dodge a hail of laser fire from a squadron of Morhin's fighters. I don't know the best angle to get a flanking attack on a capital ship. Should we try, we will doubtlessly be blasted to smithereens." Crocomon gave a toothy grin. "That doesn't mean I'm not willing to learn. I vote we let the General convert our ships into ships of war. And if either of you have something against that, I officially make this trio into a duo."
Homidon, a bit taken aback by the brutish Digimon's intellect and way of words, smiled through his white beard. "I'm glad to hear that." He looked expectantly at the other Captains.
Benningway sighed and looked down. "I do not like this. I worked hard to get Emerald Sunshine, and I fear losing it." He looked to the Digimon. "My friend, you've never been wrong before. If this it is your choice, I must follow it, no matter what. I will allow my ship to be armed."
All three looked at Captain DeSoto. She looked surprised. "What? I'm not going to take Firescape out on my own. I'll be right there with you."
Homidon was overjoyed. Three corvettes! Benningway's ship was just less than thirty-five meters, and the other two were about twenty-seven each.
"Captains, I thank you for your well thought decision." He shook hands with Benningway and DeSoto, and claws with the Crocomon.
Sora was the talk of the camp that evening. Instead of their tiny cell, Sora and Taichi slept outside in a hut with a mess of thin blankets for two dozen prisoners, who happened to be mostly Digimon. Actually, talk was an overstatement. Many Digimon stared at her as though she had an arm growing out of her head.
As she settled down, next to Taichi, she saw many pairs of eyes staring at her. She glanced across the dark shack, then finally uttered one word, "What?"
A red-and-purple Elecmon spoke for the others. "You protected one of our kind. No one has done something like that. Ever."
"I was just… doing what a normal, empathetic person would do."
"You humans are always snickering at us behind our back. We get treated worst, and you laugh about it." This from a Goblimon with an angry sneer creased into his face.
"Look, I'm not like every other person you've met. I don't hate you guys, in fact, I feel a little sorry for you. Morhin uses you guys as slaves and shock troops, doesn't he?"
"He does more than that." A Gazimon with one eye swelled shut said, voice dripping with hate. "He forces us to Digivolve. His scientists have created a way of making us Champion or even Ultimate, then returning us back to Rookie."
"What? Digimon haven't been able to Digivolve for years! How'd he accomplish that?"
"We don't know, but it's unhealthy and dangerous to force Digimon to Digivolve. Many are simply mindless zombies, obeying the one with the shock collar controller."
"That's terrible, disgusting."
"Once a Digimon has been broken of its spirit or body, they 'put him into the front line.' So to speak." The Goblimon said with a somber tone. "They are pumped full of steroids, adrenaline shots, anything to make them killing machines."
"We fear for the Terriermon. He is so little and weak." Back to the Elecmon.
With that, the sound of approaching boots on pavement caught everyone's attention. Sora immediately recognized the troop as the one she'd had a confrontation that afternoon. He wasn't holding the Terriermon by the ear anymore; instead, the little Digimon was cradled in one of his big arms. In the other, he had a plain, simple bag.
"Hi Charlie, what'd you bring?" A multitude of voices spoke at once, in different tones.
"Oh, I really struck gold this time. Take a look, a whole loaf of bread, the good side of a steak, it's well done too, and a couple of assorted fruits. Enjoy guys." He tossed the bag at them.
Now Sora was confused tenfold. "You… you were being… and now…"
"Sorry about before." The guard took off his helmet, revealing an aging man. His hair was in a horseshoe shape because of balding, and light wrinkles lined a desert-tanned face. "I have to keep up a tough motif or I'll be a prisoner myself." He gently placed the Terriermon on the ground. "C'mon, wake up little guy."
The Terriermon stirred, opening his blank, black eyes. As his vision cleared, he saw the orange-brown hair of the girl, and her light brown eyes. His tiny voice barely eeked out in the night. "She… she's the one who protected me." With strength, previously thought he didn't have, the cream-and-green colored Digimon stood up, stumbled over to her. He hopped onto her lap, then grabbed the bottom of her shirt, tugging it roughly. "Human, please, you must free us! They force us to work for hours, days without food! We toil on their ships, with faulty equipment. Some kill themselves on purpose to escape this misery! Please human, help us! If this torture goes on, we will all perish!"
"You finished that already? I'll get you another."
Between gasps of air, Lee managed to say: "Hey, I was in the Sacramento Valley, chasing a scout bot for hours." Already, two pitchers, each with a capacity of one quart, stood at the young man's side. "Water, everyone takes it for granted, until they're on the ground, nearly dead."
"Heh, yeah, good thing we found you. That buddy of yours thought it was your imagination."
"Yeah, glad he was wrong." Lee went through about a quarter of the water before speaking again. "Where is Xantos anyway?"
Almost on cue, the robed Commander entered with a glum, sunken look in his blue eye. "I just got through talking with Morhin. He actually apologized, sort of. Said that there was a tie-up because he's been very busy lately. We'll still have to serve four days as slaves. But hey, guess what."
"What?" Lee began another long chug.
"We get to go into space. You know the laser that tried to vape us? It came from a place called Omicron Station. It's nearly completed, just some fabricating here and there."
It was a long moment before Lee replied. "Sounds OK, I guess. But, what happens if a lifeline tube gets cut somehow?"
"Then we float off into space until our oxygen runs out, or we burn up in the atmosphere. Whichever comes first." Xantos said in a casual voice. "Look, Lee, we're in a lot of shit right now. Four days in space in such bad conditions… there's bound to be accidents every day there."
"When do we go?" Lee finished his container, and denied another one.
"Uh… now."
Lee coughed violently as water seeped down his windpipe. "Now!?"
"Yup. See you at the shuttle in twenty." Xantos left the room, while Lee sighed and the bartender chuckled.
The next morning wasn't much different for Taichi and Sora then the previous afternoon. Except they were welding sheets of metal to the frame. It took at least a dozen people to drag the plate up to the appropriate spot and weld it into place.
"Weren't we supposed to die today?" Sora's voice was thin and cracked.
"Don't remind them. Maybe they need the workers." Taichi responded.
That was the way they talked most of the time, in bits and pieces. The morning dragged on until noon, when a brief, ten-minute break was signaled by a loud whistle. There was no food or water passed this time, but there was a nearly uninterpretable announcement over some old speakers.
"Attention all workers, a lucky few of you will be shipped off to Morhin's space project, because of an accident in where a third of the slaves there got caught in the vacuum of space without pressure suits. Some guards will come around to check your ID number and determine if you'll be boarding the shuttle to Omicron station. That is all."
Half a dozen shock collar controller-bearing troops came around, scanning little dots and bars on the electric necklaces.
He tried to fly under the radar, for fear of suffering the same fate as the slaves now in orbit, but Taichi eventually caught a guard's attention. He was unnecessarily grabbed roughly, scanned, then ordered; "You're goin`. Follow those guys." He jerked a thumb behind him at a small line forming by the thick metal gate leading to the outside world.
Taichi obeyed, but went slowly to watch as Sora's turn came up. He groaned unhappily as she began to follow him. It's dangerous up there. She caught up with Taichi as they headed to the landing field, where Taichi sighed inwardly again as the little Terriermon also joined the crowd in front of the gate. As though the day couldn't get any worst, as the metal door creaked open, a very old and rickety looking ship sat on standby, hatch open. This'll be fun. Many guards with two-handed heavy blasters herded them roughly into the shuttle. The seats were just indentations in the wall with cheap retrains. Digimon, especially ones with tails, had difficulty getting comfortable, but within a short moment, every human and Digimon was in. None of the guards even bothered to check if they were strapped in properly. Of course, the prisoners were happy they got restraints instead of nothing at all.
One guard with a very scratchy and deep voice explained what would happen. "You'll be experiencing some heavy G's, so hold onto whatever's in your stomach." That applied to few people aboard. "Once you're there, stay within the pressure screen. You cross it, you'll either freeze or explode in space. And we're not sending anything to get you. Head straight for the door that says 'Prison District.'
The engines took awhile before getting enough thrust to fly the shuttle off the ground. With little warning, the shuttle blasted upwards at a sixty degree angle. The inertia made Taichi feel like his eyes were being sucked into his head, and his blood was pooling near his spine. Over time, he could move his arm with little strain, and his fingers regained their normal color. There was no window, so he couldn't see how far into the air they were. Ten minuets passed then another ten. Taichi began drifting off.
Space, one of the few places I haven't been yet. The closest Taichi had ever been to space was that time he had saved a shipment of gold from thieving pirates. Just thirty pounds of gold caught their attention; it was hardly worth more than 3 million yen, hardly a fortune. Agumon had reported 22 kilometers through a breathmask Taichi miraculously put in just a week earlier before the altitude meter hit maximum. Peregrine was clawing for air, and barely made it another kilometer before the pirates quit. Taichi quickly descended before the Mesosphere's UV rays damaged them.
Specifically, he remembered Agumon begging for Taichi to drop altitude. "We're gonna die! We're gonna freeze, then we're gonna blow up, then we're gonna splatter our guts for miles." He'd said that about a dozen times.
I miss him. He's probably going nuts without me. Ever since he'd found him sleeping in a dumpster, cold and hungry, he'd had a special bond, and felt like a part of him was missing.
That was enough of a memory trip for Taichi. He snapped back into reality as the ship's engines began to lower in pitch. A rough bump signaled they had landed at Omicron station. Shortly afterwards, all the people and Digimon were unloaded and filed into line as the hatch creaked down to a highly polished floor.
Taichi had a brief moment to look in awe at the gargantuan hanger. Entire wings, composed of five squadrons of ten fighters, sat in organized rows by type. An almost equal amount of little mouse-like robots kept them in optimal condition. At the opposite end were a pair of frigate-class capital ships, and four smaller but more deadly destroyers. Next to them was another shuttle, but this one was totally unloaded. Leading into space was a red tinted, invisible wall, which was presumably the pressure screen.
He didn't get much longer to stare because a light bump from behind sent him walking again to a small gateway in the corner labeled 'Prison District' Inside, it reeked of human and Digimon sweat and BO. Everywhere, there were assembly lines rolling. The products ranged from laser turrets to more of the mouse-bots. The incredibly boring routine involved welding a part here, or, plugging in an appendage there. Far across the room was a thick door with the words 'Space Walk Zone DANGER' in big, bold letters.
"Alright, head to the big, black door over there…" The guard pointed to a large double-door. "Then pick a room. They're all the same, so don't bother fighting."
Before they could enter, a loud scream broke through the drone of machines. A Betamon was rolling on his back, clutching the stump where his claw had been. Almost too casually, a guard dragged him into a tiny, and probably rarely used Medical station.
Chilled by the site, Taichi tore away his gaze. He shunted his attention to finding a room that didn't smell like a Numemon was previously there.
The end of Lizarddramon's tail twitched back and forth; a sign of nervousness. This was his fourth patrol this week and his third order to take cover. A super-sonic surveillance jet had been located on sensors, and he and the other units had to hide in an old building. As the sonic boom passed by, Lizarddramon waited another minuet, then poked his scaled head out and motioned for the other two to follow. They returned to their walk as though nothing happened.
Something was happening though. Ever since the Emerald Sunshine and its companions had arrived, sensors had been on the edge, detecting lots of blips. Obviously, the pilots of the Centaurs had informed their superiors. Homidon was tense nowadays, and spent more time in his office than not. Still, it seemed to be paying off. Two fresh SGG-71 gunboats, dubbed Warhammers, had come the other day, donated from a resistance group that had mined into Mt. Shasta. Homidon didn't like having mercy felt on him, but in this case, he made an exception.
"Patrol Lead to RAM base, eastern front secure, we're gonna head…" His yellow eyes caught something and shrunk. He checked the tiny sensor on his forearm, but it only beeped steadily, showing nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the little moving black dot was too tempting to leave alone. "Scratch that base, I'm gonna check out something."
"C'mon, it's probably some Digimon. I'm hot in this suit." One of his patrol-mates complained.
Without warning, a laser bolt came from the east, missing Lizarddramon by centimeters. "Still think it's nothing?" The lizard Digimon charged forward, messily firing a blaster and talking into his comm unit at the same time. "One enemy in the area, I'll get `em."
"Careful Lead. We need to conserve Powerarmors." The voice buzzed back.
Lizarddramon was closing the distance quickly between him and the three meter-tall mechanical fighter. Looks like… a spider? The enemy shifted back and forth, as though unsure of what to do. Finally, on it's long, thin legs, the robot charged as well using the shiny black, unobstructed hull as a battering ram and firing a duo of laser cannons that screeched like some feral beast. Lizarddramon leaped when he came within five meters. Tucking and rolling twice in mid air, he aimed at the spider-bot's back.
Or rather, where the spider-bot's back should've been.
The enemy had strafed impossibly fast and was already set up to incinerate the Digimon as he landed. Relying more on instinct, Lizarddramon bounded backwards as he landed, despite the shock in his ankles, and rolled several times. Even at that level of agility, the spider-bot swiveled around. Taking the offensive, Lizarddramon snapped off a pair of shots at different legs. Both were blow off at the third of four joints, causing the scout to lose it's balance for a moment. As fast as it could, the robot re-oriented itself on the other six, then followed the Digimon's path with a swarm of lasers. Running out of ideas, Lizarddramon was glad to see his patrol mates coming up after the spider with lasers blaring and guns roaring. With great efficiency, two soldiers rained shot after shot at the hapless war droid while the other jammed another clip or power pack in their gun. Using most of their ammo, the three soldiers finally ceased fire as the spider-bot collapsed, releasing a large amount of smoke.
Lizarddramon blew an almost equal amount of exhaust from the muzzle of his blaster. He re-activated the channel to RAM base. "This is Patrol Lead, get a recovery team out here. We have something for them to dissect."
Xantos had never felt so exposed. He was forced to strip down to all but his innermost robes, showing his skinny figure, and flecks of blonde hair peeked out of his tight hood. Also, the stiletto that he prized so much, was tugged off his forearm. There was much discussion over what to do with his artificial eye. One guard thought it was a hidden laser or some kind of weapon, so Xantos, after some light encouragement with the threat of "bare spacewalking" him, the prisoner reluctantly removed the red shell. Only a thin, gray cloth with tape was over the empty socket.
He was immediately assigned to a shaping machine, where sheets of metal slid under an indented column, then with a tug on a lever, the pressing device would crash down to form a duplicate of the markings on the thin titanium. Shoving it the other way would make it come back up then roll another piece underneath for the exact same procedure. And the same thing happened again and again… for a mind-boggling length of time. Just two hours left Xantos exhausted, bored, and not a friendly roommate. Either his temper or his odor would scare one off. Every couple of minutes, another person would get hurt. They ranged from minor scratches, to missing limbs. Like that Betamon. He was being careless. Xantos considered his own actions. Going back forth on that switch left him absent of emotions or thoughts. Maybe that's what they really do. Weed out the weak. Well Xantos absolutely loathed weakness, and vowed to himself to keep his wits about him. Before I end up just another casualty.
After weeks of negotiations with multiple factions miles away, Homidon had finally formed a full alliance with two other groups. The Denizens of the Deep Resistance Group, DDRG for short, was one. The people had done a near impossible task of building an underwater base at the bottom of the Great Salt Lake and possessed amphibious, aerial, and spaceworthy ships. They were years ahead of RAM, but were happy to help for fellow Morhin-haters. Their fleet of ships included half a dozen of the popular SGG-71 Warhammers, nine corvette sized craft, four Leviathan-class frigates, which were speedy little marine animal-shaped ships, a pair of cruisers, dubbed the Hammerhead and the Tsunami Force. Both had the latest in shielding technology, the new screen shields. They were extremely strong, and could take a lot of hits before collapsing. Within the capital ships, dozens of multi-role fighters and bombers laid in wait.
The other, an all-Digimon organization, named simply Refuge, was near the old city Helena, Montana. Uranium was plentiful there and a common source of energy. Each craft was specially made for separate Digimon dimensions. They sacrificed quantity for comfort, which was acceptable to the General as long as they were on his side and had fighting ability.
Yup, things were looking up for Homidon.
"Sir, we have a captured Morhin robot." His comm buzzed on his desk. "It's a bit odd, and we'd like you to come down here for a minute."
"I'm on my way." The General slowly got up, his weary bones cracking with fatigue. The two guards outside his office gave light salutes as he headed out and for the elevator. The door swung open as the platform arrived, and transported Skot Homidon to the floor where the mechanic station was. By the time he arrived at the large, window-paneled room, two humans, an Andromon, and Wex and Lizarddramon were there, examining a mangled spider-shaped robot that filled most of the largest available table.
"It's a strange kind of metal, some kind of ytterbium, tungsten, and titanium alloy. It's almost ten centimeters thick in some places. I'm not surprised you needed eight clips each to bring it down. Though I wish you hadn't done it so messily. I can barely work with the circuitry, it's so burnt." One of the male mechanics said.
"Hey, I'd like to see how you react with a gun in your hand and this thing alive a meter away." Lizarddramon snapped.
"I'm a scientist, not a soldier."
"I can see that, but I'm just saying you shouldn't tell someone to do something when you can't do it yourself."
"I understand that."
"So shut…"
"Will you two close your mouths for three seconds?" The other older man said with more sharpness than expected. "I've been looking in this thing's insides for awhile, and it seems like there's still some electron flow to major systems."
"So what does that mean?" Lizarddramon asked, lazily flipping his blaster in the air and catching it by the handle.
"It means this thing is still functional." Wex explained.
"Functional? Then I guess we didn't shoot it enough." Lizarddramon nearly fired, but was roughly cut off by the Andromon.
"Warning, the specimen has reactivated. Prepare for evacuation."
"What!? This thing is still alive!?" Homidon said with alarm.
"Not alive, just playing dead!" As Lizarddramon said this, the robot rose off the table, it's laser cannons pointed at Homidon.