Black Feather: Episode XXXXIX
"Nevermore"
Miphiner Glades
8:43 p.m., 03/23
"Logic Drive off-line. DNA Extra-Base signal lost."
Xanthippius molded itself back to its normal form. Qastor hasn't seen Malirant in almost two weeks, but since so much happened, it felt like an eternity. As he climbed out of the cockpit hole, he began to hesitate. He realized that it was precariously peaceful. It was one of those rare moments when he could just stop and fall asleep without worrying what would happen when he woke up. Nevertheless, he pushed himself to see his comrade...
Malirant's AC was still in Omnis form, resting against a steep hill. The numerous spikes blocked his way to the cockpit shutters. A derogating mechanical groan lessened to a whisper, and the Omnis AC turned completely absolute black, that no shadow could compete. Spikes writhed into the swarthy armor. All of its outlandish features melted into slumber, and Malirant was in his old AC.
It was Ogre, his symbol and pride, not the depredating AC from the crater. Ogre's armor radiated with heat, its right arm still missing, and a horrendous gouge in the right torso flickered with ember and sparks. So deep was the gouge that Malirant was in plain sight, sitting hunched over, with his head down, on the cockpit seat. His sturdy hands gripped his head agonizingly. Hair stood out betwixt his fingers. A bright flash ensued as the Apocrypha crashed to the ground, an overwhelming earthquake that shook Qastor, but not Malirant.
After the flash settled itself, Qastor turned to speak to Malirant. He searched for words, gripping his two gloves tightly in his sweaty left fist. As he thought, Qastor thought of home. He thought of old times with Malirant. The times when he would perform a victory jig whenever Qastor lost to him in a bowling match, the times when he would give a hearty pat in the back, and the time when Malirant was hastily rushed to the emergency care unit...
"Malirant..." Qastor lessened the clench on his gloves. "...Let's go home."
Malirant rose his head, not saying a word. A guilty and apologetic expression made Qastor's will sink. Malirant looked aged, more than he was almost two weeks ago. He looked thirty-five years of age, although in truth he was twenty-seven years. His usual build was deteriorating also. Qastor remembered the countless hours Malirant spent working out, but he never figured out what motivated him to do so. All he knew that Malirant would never be himself if he couldn't keep his build.
"Malirant?" Qastor noticed that there was no indication of the scars on Malirant's neck, and that his attention slowly made its way to the ruins of Apocrypha. Qastor followed his gaze and witnessed the unthinkable. Far off, streaming from cracks in the base of Apocrypha, a mass of stirring movement was visible. Qastor reached for his comm-device and contacted Laevaentteinn Base.
"This is Laevaentteinn Base, comm-ID matched and location verified. Is this Mr. Qastor?"
"Yeah, get a transport here and fast! Bring some worker MTs too, I gotta wrecked comrade out here."
"Affirmative, Mr. Qastor. Your coordinates are locked. A high-speed transport from Ascalon Citadel is on its way. It'll be there in ten minutes."
"I don't have ten minutes! A damned legion of MTs is advancing my way!"
"I'm sorry, but this is the best we could do. We beseech you to hang on until the-"
Qastor slammed the comm-device against the gravel and grass.
"Don't you worry, Malirant. I'll hold 'em off. You just stay put..." Qastor rushed to Xanthippius. "...and hope they don't get near..."
Xanthippius rose, Malirant was hunched over again, resting his head between his hands. Qastor strode off into the expanse, the mass grew in detail as he neared, leaving Malirant to fend for himself with whatever he had and wait for the transport.
"What am I doing? I'm sacrificing myself for my best friend, someone who I just defeated in battle... That's right... I'm going crazy aren't I..." Qastor thought, and glanced at his status screen.
"Logic Drive inactive."
"Yeah... I'm crazy, alright... But, if it means Malirant getting another start in life, then I'd do this a hundred times..." With that, Qastor accelerated his pace.
He stopped within shooting distance of the MTs. Qastor's FCS limited his lock range, but not the trajectory range of his triple-rifle. He figured he should take out some MTs before the real encounter.
"What... More than seven hundred MTs vs. one AC?" It was a hopeless battle, but Qastor concluded that it was better to try than not try at all.
Qastor fired blindly into the mass, steadily walking backwards...
"Enemy MTs detected within range of 500 meters."
Qastor held his ground. Firing... Firing...
"...400 meters..."
Qastor closed his eyes, the HUD dully flashing from his rifle shots.
"...300 meters..."
The MTs fired. A multitude of energy volleys quietly pelted away at Xanthippius' armor. It was hopeless to move, since fifty other shots will replace those that miss.
"...150 meters. Left shoulder joint actuator 02 damaged."
Qastor opened his eyes, activating the overboosters. He squinted as a blinding blur of cyan-colored energy shots bombarded the HUD, bracing against the force of the OB thrust. A heavy hue of orange, yellow, and gray exploded from the near horizon. The energetic blur ceased as Qastor cut the overboosters and braked. Shrouds of flames and debris erupted right in his face as he boosted backwards. Qastor discovered that the entire mass of MTs was annihilated, and a wall of explosions in front of him was more than enough proof. The surmounted Apocrypha behind the explosions transformed into a hurricane of conflagrations. Flames seeped and oozed from the cracking armor panels, and eventually devoured the entire once-flying citadel whole.
"Unknown object detected." Qastor stopped his backward movement in response.
Frantically, Qastor searched around, but found his eyes focusing on the far flames. An AC shot out of the fire, smoke and embers trailing from its moonlit armor. It stopped abruptly in high midair, turned, and faced Qastor. Its left side was visible against the moonshine, but its right was invisible against the infinite oceans of stars.
Qastor stared in awe as the AC fleeted to the moon...
"Nevermore"
Miphiner Glades
8:43 p.m., 03/23
"Logic Drive off-line. DNA Extra-Base signal lost."
Xanthippius molded itself back to its normal form. Qastor hasn't seen Malirant in almost two weeks, but since so much happened, it felt like an eternity. As he climbed out of the cockpit hole, he began to hesitate. He realized that it was precariously peaceful. It was one of those rare moments when he could just stop and fall asleep without worrying what would happen when he woke up. Nevertheless, he pushed himself to see his comrade...
Malirant's AC was still in Omnis form, resting against a steep hill. The numerous spikes blocked his way to the cockpit shutters. A derogating mechanical groan lessened to a whisper, and the Omnis AC turned completely absolute black, that no shadow could compete. Spikes writhed into the swarthy armor. All of its outlandish features melted into slumber, and Malirant was in his old AC.
It was Ogre, his symbol and pride, not the depredating AC from the crater. Ogre's armor radiated with heat, its right arm still missing, and a horrendous gouge in the right torso flickered with ember and sparks. So deep was the gouge that Malirant was in plain sight, sitting hunched over, with his head down, on the cockpit seat. His sturdy hands gripped his head agonizingly. Hair stood out betwixt his fingers. A bright flash ensued as the Apocrypha crashed to the ground, an overwhelming earthquake that shook Qastor, but not Malirant.
After the flash settled itself, Qastor turned to speak to Malirant. He searched for words, gripping his two gloves tightly in his sweaty left fist. As he thought, Qastor thought of home. He thought of old times with Malirant. The times when he would perform a victory jig whenever Qastor lost to him in a bowling match, the times when he would give a hearty pat in the back, and the time when Malirant was hastily rushed to the emergency care unit...
"Malirant..." Qastor lessened the clench on his gloves. "...Let's go home."
Malirant rose his head, not saying a word. A guilty and apologetic expression made Qastor's will sink. Malirant looked aged, more than he was almost two weeks ago. He looked thirty-five years of age, although in truth he was twenty-seven years. His usual build was deteriorating also. Qastor remembered the countless hours Malirant spent working out, but he never figured out what motivated him to do so. All he knew that Malirant would never be himself if he couldn't keep his build.
"Malirant?" Qastor noticed that there was no indication of the scars on Malirant's neck, and that his attention slowly made its way to the ruins of Apocrypha. Qastor followed his gaze and witnessed the unthinkable. Far off, streaming from cracks in the base of Apocrypha, a mass of stirring movement was visible. Qastor reached for his comm-device and contacted Laevaentteinn Base.
"This is Laevaentteinn Base, comm-ID matched and location verified. Is this Mr. Qastor?"
"Yeah, get a transport here and fast! Bring some worker MTs too, I gotta wrecked comrade out here."
"Affirmative, Mr. Qastor. Your coordinates are locked. A high-speed transport from Ascalon Citadel is on its way. It'll be there in ten minutes."
"I don't have ten minutes! A damned legion of MTs is advancing my way!"
"I'm sorry, but this is the best we could do. We beseech you to hang on until the-"
Qastor slammed the comm-device against the gravel and grass.
"Don't you worry, Malirant. I'll hold 'em off. You just stay put..." Qastor rushed to Xanthippius. "...and hope they don't get near..."
Xanthippius rose, Malirant was hunched over again, resting his head between his hands. Qastor strode off into the expanse, the mass grew in detail as he neared, leaving Malirant to fend for himself with whatever he had and wait for the transport.
"What am I doing? I'm sacrificing myself for my best friend, someone who I just defeated in battle... That's right... I'm going crazy aren't I..." Qastor thought, and glanced at his status screen.
"Logic Drive inactive."
"Yeah... I'm crazy, alright... But, if it means Malirant getting another start in life, then I'd do this a hundred times..." With that, Qastor accelerated his pace.
He stopped within shooting distance of the MTs. Qastor's FCS limited his lock range, but not the trajectory range of his triple-rifle. He figured he should take out some MTs before the real encounter.
"What... More than seven hundred MTs vs. one AC?" It was a hopeless battle, but Qastor concluded that it was better to try than not try at all.
Qastor fired blindly into the mass, steadily walking backwards...
"Enemy MTs detected within range of 500 meters."
Qastor held his ground. Firing... Firing...
"...400 meters..."
Qastor closed his eyes, the HUD dully flashing from his rifle shots.
"...300 meters..."
The MTs fired. A multitude of energy volleys quietly pelted away at Xanthippius' armor. It was hopeless to move, since fifty other shots will replace those that miss.
"...150 meters. Left shoulder joint actuator 02 damaged."
Qastor opened his eyes, activating the overboosters. He squinted as a blinding blur of cyan-colored energy shots bombarded the HUD, bracing against the force of the OB thrust. A heavy hue of orange, yellow, and gray exploded from the near horizon. The energetic blur ceased as Qastor cut the overboosters and braked. Shrouds of flames and debris erupted right in his face as he boosted backwards. Qastor discovered that the entire mass of MTs was annihilated, and a wall of explosions in front of him was more than enough proof. The surmounted Apocrypha behind the explosions transformed into a hurricane of conflagrations. Flames seeped and oozed from the cracking armor panels, and eventually devoured the entire once-flying citadel whole.
"Unknown object detected." Qastor stopped his backward movement in response.
Frantically, Qastor searched around, but found his eyes focusing on the far flames. An AC shot out of the fire, smoke and embers trailing from its moonlit armor. It stopped abruptly in high midair, turned, and faced Qastor. Its left side was visible against the moonshine, but its right was invisible against the infinite oceans of stars.
Qastor stared in awe as the AC fleeted to the moon...