Okay. So it isn't a "bitch-fight," as was the request. But it will have to do. Oh, yeah--and don't kill me. XD

The Second Renaissance

Part Four: The Age of Aquarius

-

III. Rhetoric

When one is ill or mad, one simply passes through walls, no need to climb them. One reinvents all rules. On a whim, one imposes limits on oneself, knowing that a moment later, one may push them farther, too far. When one is mad, nothing is too far.

When one is mad, one wishes the whole world were mad, but when the whole world goes mad, one is unhappy. How unfair: to be both unhappy and mad.

-Elie Wiesel, Twilight

-

The steady and muted thud of explosions rocked the body of the fallen Ultrasaurus, and their light glazed the huge canopy in poisonous light, throwing the zoid's grungy armor into harsh relief. The sparse crew of technicians and commanders sat breathlessly in the control room, avidly watching the battle unfold below them. No one spoke, for fear of materializing some unfathomable terror that might otherwise go unheeded. The comm. links had been silent for hours, leaving the imaginations of all aboard to run wildly free.

Marianne sat tersely in one of the chairs on the upper deck, her small hands gripping the armrests. Her dark eyes scanned the battlefield, desperately searching for some sign of victory, some indication that all the blood, sweat, and tears had been worth it. It all looked the same, though, and little wonder–she was the Empress of the Guylos Empire, not a commander. She was not allowed to sit in on military stratagem meetings with Rudolph, assured that it wouldn't interest her. If a would-be assassin got within long-range striking distance, her attendants bustled her away to lie safely under cover, and others "took care of it." It was hopeless to try to discern an outcome from the mêlée before her.

She snuck a look at Colonel Shubaltz. He sat, motionless, to her right, and his jade eyes were focused intently on the battle. Though his face was impassive, she noted that his hands were clenched into tight fists. The inaction seemed to infuriate him. Not only that, she realized with a pang, but his little brother was out there.

She turned her gaze back to the desert, this time in a half-hearted attempt to pick out the Lieutenant's zoid. The blurs of action were too fast to follow, and she turned dizzily away. But which zoids were moving so fast? The winners, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. Surely, no human could pilot a zoid so fast...and what if that were true, and they lost? Assuming they could make it out alive, the loss of life would be staggering. Coupled with the cost of the zoids, human society would crumble.

She stifled a sharp intake of breath. What would become of her Empire? What could become of her people? They trusted her to help lead them...but that was impossible, given the current situation. Defenses of the great capitol would be comparable to nothing, and the economy! She suddenly felt dizzy again, and placed a hand on her forehead.

A nudge at her shoulder made her look up at Colonel Shubaltz's small smile. "Don't worry," he whispered. "We'll be okay." His eyes flicked to the battle again, his attention stolen by another explosion.

Marianne stared at him a moment, and her eyes slowly filled with hot, treacherous tears. What right did she have, did she ever have, to be hopeless? She swallowed hard and tentatively reached out to put her small hand on top of his, and flinched at the iciness of his fingers.

As he looked back to her in surprise, she managed a somewhat tearful smile. "I know, Colonel." She took a deep breath. "I know."

-

"Sir! We can't move back any further!"

Thomas grimaced; he'd known that it was only a matter of time before his defensive line was trapped against the Ultrasaurus's hull. He had only hoped that it would take longer. He darted a look around at the twenty or so zoids under his command; they were scattered about, stubbornly resisting the equally stubborn line of advancing zoids. As he watched, a Molga and a Godos went down with twin explosions.

"Sir?"

He scowled. It was unexpectedly trying, acting as the commanding officer; he would be sure to defer the rank to some other poor guy at the next chance he got. Or, at least, teach someone else how Beke worked. He shook his head, coming back to the dilemma at hand. He yelled, "Form up! Firing-line style! We're going to push them back!" He gritted his teeth. It's the only way.

His comrades moved quickly, relieved at having orders to follow, and fell into perfect formation. Thomas eyed the Shield Ligers at either side of his Bison, and took a deep breath. Sending a silent prayer to the gods, he said simply, "Advance."

The Di-Bison bellowed, and began the march, explosions booming around them. The humans kept up a steady line of fire as they advanced, but the solid wall of zoids before them didn't move. They just roared a fearsome challenge and planted their feet, lowering their heads in preparation for a clash. The humans faltered, but then surged forward to meet them. The two lines met in a dramatic display of destruction, both sides discarding conventional weapons and resorting to teeth and claws.

As the Bison threw a Rev-Raptor from its horns, Thomas wet his lips nervously. The Shield Ligers had engaged their shields and shoved against a Gordos and a Zaber Fang. The sand roiled into a golden sea as each zoid scrambled for solid ground. A Command Wolf rushed the Di-Bison, and successfully gored itself on the sharp horns. Thomas distractedly pushed it away, and muttered, "Beke, warm the cannons."

As a low hum reverberated through the cockpit, he brought up the targeting screen. "Yes," he whispered. "No one is moving." It was an undeniable risk, and he would most likely get a verbal thrashing for it later. He decided that he didn't care, and yelled, "Megalomax, fire!" The displays filled with gold light and smoky explosions. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then one of the soldiers gave an incredulous whoop. The rest of the line dissolved into cheers. Thomas bit back a grin and ordered, "Don't break rank. Wait until the smoke clears."

Then Irvine's voice came, his tone sharp. "Thomas, get out. Now."

"What?"

"It's coming right at you, move. And–oh. Never mind. Too late."

Thomas looked up, baffled...and froze. The thick black smoke wafted to the side, revealing a distinct crimson shape in its wake. A very familiar, distinct crimson shape. A blue optic lens flashed through the smoke, and two foot-locks disengaged, driving away the last of the haze. The Genobreaker stood, in all its terrible glory, before them. As Thomas watched, its jaws opened, and a sphere of energy grew to the blinding radiance of a captive sun.

He swore and yelled over the rising panic, "Stay in formation! Prevent the Genobreaker from having a clear shot at the Ultrasaurus at all costs!" Quieter, he said, "Beke, ready the cannons again and fire as soon as possible." A weak whistle answered him; he caught sight of the dangerously low battery light, and groaned.

The line of fire broke from both sides at the same time, a blinding light that eclipsed every display screen within a quarter of a mile. The Megalomax cannons' discharge met the charged particle beam head-on, locking each zoid to a standstill. The temperature of the Bison's cockpit spiked quickly, and Thomas recalled a vividly similar incident–except that was the Genosaurer...and he'd still lost.

The Di-Bison's cockpit was alive in the reflection of the twin blasts, cutting it off from the world. In a sudden instant, he became distinctly aware of an emptiness on his either side; two heartbeats later, his cannon blast punched through, and massive explosions rocked the zoid back to its haunches.

He was dimly aware of a sharp pop, and then the palm of his hand stung fiercely. He blinked at it, acutely aware of how red his blood was as it flowed down his wrist...and only then saw that one of the control panel's monitors had burst, throwing glass into his hand. Nothing else, however, was out of the ordinary, all systems green, even after a hit like that.

He gritted his teeth in a smile. "This old clunker is officially my favorite zoid."

"Speaking of which."

Thomas pressed his palm to his pants leg, the blood seeping sickeningly into the fabric. "Yes, Raven?"

A pause. "You just broke my zoid."

He darted his gaze up. "Did I?" A crumpled red heap lay before him, black smoke spiraling up thickly from it. "Whoa." Two smaller mounds of smoking metal lay to either side of it; he glanced around him–the Shield Ligers. His shoulders sagged as he realized what had happened: the Ligers had rushed the larger zoid, diverting its fire so that he could nail it with the Megalomax. They had sacrificed themselves. It was something that many soldiers swore to do; not many ever upheld the promise. He swallowed hard. "They will be remembered."

"But you broke my zoid."

Irvine snickered. "I'm guessing he doesn't care."

Raven growled something unintelligible, and Irvine gave another short laugh before turning back to what he had been doing: using the Liger's blade rifles to pick off the enemy. "Man," he muttered. "When this is all over, Van is definitely sharing his zoid. I could get used to this."

A Hel-Digunner rushed at him, and he gritted his teeth. He fired once, and missed. Twice, three more times...still nothing, and the little zoid's tail blade glittered dangerously. He fired in quick succession, too many and too fast to follow. The Hel-Digunner finally exploded, and the Liger stepped back to avoid flying metal parts.

The Liger's leg shuddered down in a jerking motion, and Irvine froze. The monitors showed a motionless scene, despite the fervent battle still racing by; images jumped erratically across the screens. He stopped breathing, as if that would help the computer parts to function. A faint smell reached his nose, a hot and foul scent. His eyes were suddenly drawn to where he had hastily stuffed the Beke unit's CPU into its port...and, with cold dread, he registered the faint wisps of smoke issuing from the drive.

-

Van stumbled to a halt, and glanced over his shoulder, unconsciously tilting his head to the side. "Hey. What was that?"

Reese glared irritably at him, but glanced back the way they'd come, nonetheless. Nothing was there. She shook her head. "You're imagining things–we're alone, and too far from the battle to hear anything." She turned and kept walking, Specular's escort comforting in its mere presence; her knees were still ominously shaky after that gruesome spew of blood.

"Are you sure?"

She stopped again and turned, more slowly, a growing suspicion in her eyes. "Why? What did you feel?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Uh...well, I didn't really feel something. Just like..." he swallowed, "a buzz. A vibration or something, in the air."

"That's impossible. You lie."

He jumped, startled into angry indignation. "I don't lie, Reese! I'm serious." He rubbed his arms, and she was suddenly aware of the gooseflesh that had risen on his skin.

She blinked at him, and turned away to hide her confusion. There was, of course, a tremendous current of energy sparking through the air; she had felt it, in growing intensity, since they had passed through the gates of the city. Its waves whirled around Fiona–supposedly, the eye of the proverbial storm.

Van shouldn't have felt it at all, because he was human. Maybe it was stronger than she realized, or maybe he had an innate sensitivity. It wouldn't be uncommon...but strange, so strange. She gave a shudder. Something felt wrong, something she couldn't put a finger on; it raised the hairs on the back of her neck and made her jumpy.

She turned again to look at Van, her face carefully arranged into a calm mask. "I think we should split up."

He raised an eyebrow. "Except for the fact that I don't know my way–"

"Us and the organoids, I mean." Zeke gave a little snort and eyed her with an unreadable optic lens, edging behind Van. Specular acted similarly offended. Reese rolled her eyes at the little zoids. "Oh, come on, don't be immature." She flipped her bangs from her eyes. "We have to make sure that we don't miss anything, because that could be deadly."

Van narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were sure."

Her unruffled expression faltered, and then she scowled at him. "Shut up."

"But–"

"I said shut up." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Van throw up his hands in exasperation, and gave a little smirk. She laid a hand on Specular's shoulder. "Okay, doll, just go back that way, and find us if something comes up." Specular growled an affirmative, and set off into the dim shadows. As an afterthought, Reese called after her, "And don't lose what's-his-name."

"His name is Zeke." The silver organoid gave a miffed little grunt as he turned away from Van, and before long, the zoids were both lost in the darkness. It really was for the best–in her current rattled state, Reese probably would have missed something...and paid for it later. It wasn't worth the risk. Van scowled at her, his irritation plain. "You don't have to be difficult, you know."

She shrugged. "Neither do you."

He ground his teeth audibly. "Let's go, already."

She gave a little smirk. "Sure thing." And as they went into the dusk of Evopolis, she could almost forget the faint sway of Eve, even as it grew around her senses, crowding them into each other.

-

The Genosaurer roared as a Zaber Fang pounced onto its back. The feline zoid dug its claws in and roared triumphantly. Raven growled and whirled the zoid around in an attempt to throw the other. The Zaber stubbornly held on and leveled its pulse rifles straight forward, into the 'Saurer's inner workings. With a spike of adrenaline, Raven drove the levers home, ducking the zoid down.

The Zaber flipped over and crashed to the ground, its shots going wild. The Genosaurer followed it and buried the pulse laser rifles in the Zaber's belly. He fired twice, and the other zoid spasmed once, then was still. Raven waited a second, then withdrew, a small curl of smoke rising from the dead zoid. He gave a self-satisfied smile and turned to move on.

With no warning but a sharp, whining alert, the left side of the canopy suddenly exploded inward. With a yell, Raven threw up an arm, but not quickly enough. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, even as he instinctively knew that it was too late.

Raven swore loudly and cracked his eyes again, forcing them open. Tears poured from the ducts, and mercifully carried the tiny crystals of glass from his eyes. Even after they were cleansed, though, the tears kept coming. No, not tears, he realized as the warm liquid met his lips. Blood.

"My eyes are bleeding," he whispered. All he could see was a burning red haze...and meaningless shadowy shapes before him that were quickly dimming. He weakly waved his hand before his face: nothing. "Shadow," he said, his voice small and desperate. "Shadow!" A soft growl answered him, and Raven murmured, "Shadow, help me. Be my eyes."

He felt the Genosaurer lurch up as Shadow took over, and forced his hands to relax from the controls. He was ensconced in darkness, and it was torture. The black void echoed with explosions and tilting vertigo, and the maddening oblivion made him feel weak and unprotected as the cockpit rocked with another blast from the nameless zoid.

Irvine saw the explosion, the flash of black metal. He did a double take and stared. His Lightning Saix, his pride and joy, twisted beautifully and fired again at the Genosaurer. Its optic lenses were wildly emerald once more, and it moved faster than ever before. He ached to see his partner without him.

He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes, then pushed the Liger forward, slowly. Something was terribly wrong with Raven's zoid–it moved sluggishly, its reaction time lagging. The Saix would kill both Raven and Shadow, and Irvine, as its rightful pilot, was ultimately responsible for its actions. The Liger quickened its pace to a loping run.

The Lightning Saix had its back turned when Irvine threw the Liger into a leap. The smaller zoid gave a shrieking hiss as the Liger pounced onto its back, and immediately rolled. The Liger roared and dug its claws in further, fangs ripping at the streamlined armor. The world spun as they twisted in the sand, the Saix struggling out of the death grip, and the Blade Liger latched on with a determined ferocity. In the midst of it all was Irvine, at some level horrified at what he was doing, and, at another, ready to kill–to sacrifice his precious zoid.

"Please," he whispered. "Please, just stop fighting..." His hands crept for the aiming system for the pulse lasers, and a sort of desperation seized him. He closed his eyes tightly and squeezed the trigger.

When he finally opened them again, the Saix lay still beneath the claws of the Liger. A few smoking holes stared out of the zoid's foreleg and shoulders. Irvine swallowed hard and prayed that the feline zoid could be fixed, and then turned to the Genosaurer, collapsed on its side.

"Hey, Raven?" The visual link showed static, and he felt an inexplicable stab of fear; he darted his gaze around. In the struggle with the Saix, that side of the battlefield had cleared, as the machines seemed to tire and move on. He gritted his teeth–it wouldn't be long, now. They were all exhausted, but each side was unwilling to die. All it would take was one killing blow.

He shook his head, and realized that the comm. was silent. "Raven!"

"What?" Rude as always, the maverick's tone was strangely flat.

"Are you...okay?" The mercenary peered at the large zoid, his brow knitting.

"...No."

He frowned and bit his lip. "Uh. Well, it looks like your canopy's all smashed in. How bad is it?"

A pause. "I don't know."

"Is there a particular reason why?"

"I can't...I can't see."

Irvine felt suddenly cold. "You can't see?"

"No."

"Do you need help?" He felt silly, asking the famous criminal that. But it was the only thing that would surface in his mind. He can't see.

"If I need help," Raven replied haughtily, "then I would ask. Shadow is help enough, thank you." And with that, the Genosaurer struggled to its feet, its optic lens glaring crimson at Irvine.

He backed up the Liger, allowing the 'Saurer safe passage. It held its head high, the one side of the canopy sporting a yawning hole, and limped past. He frowned after it. Organoids were one of the more arcane areas of Ancient Zi's culture to him, and he didn't quite trust them–not with a human life, anyway. Raven was incapacitated, and totally relying on Shadow...it couldn't be safe.

With a slight shrug, he followed closely behind the other zoid, and decided that he didn't intend to let it out of his sight.

-

It was as he stopped his neck up at the titanic buildings around him that Van noticed a strange rattling sound. He stopped and stole a look back at Reese; her gaze seemed oddly unfocused as she passed a hand over her eyes, and her pallid skin gleamed with sweat. Her teeth were still chattering loudly, though her clothes were long-since dried.

"Uh, Reese? You...okay?"

She blinked and looked at him, her breathing labored. She didn't seem to see him for a minute, but then she shook her head, managing to keep her old, scornful character. "Of course." To prove her point, she pushed herself forward, and stumbled.

Van reached out to catch her, and frowned as his hands met her bare forearms. Her skin burned with a sick fire. "Reese, you are not okay."

The girl struggled to her feet, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine. She's..." She wiped her sleeve across her forehead, grimacing. "Fiona is close."

"What? How can you tell?"

Reese swayed a little. "I can feel her...her power." It's making me sick, it's so bloody corrupt...

A heavy clanking suddenly met her ears, and her teal eyes went wide. "Oh...no." Fighting a wave of nausea, she whirled to Van, and started pushing him. "Move, move, move, we have to get out of here!"

"Wha–?"

"One of the zoids, you idiot," she hissed through clenched teeth. "If it sees us, we're dead."

That got him moving.

They scrambled over a low rise of fallen stone, wedged between two gigantic pillars, then crouched on top. Reese peered around the pillar, and then ducked back. "It's a Helcat," she whispered. Oh, Zi, where is Specular?

Finally, preceded by a deserted hall, a silver Helcat limped into view, dragging a leg behind it. Electricity crackled ominously from its left rear paw. It staggered a little further, and then lost its footing, falling heavily to the stone floor. It lay motionless, a beaten up pile of metal.

After a minute or so, Van muttered, "I think we can go now." He started to stand, but Reese reached up and pushed him back down, a hand on his head. Van glared at her, but hesitated. She was clenching her teeth, and a new sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Van followed her gaze...and gasped.

It was Fiona. And yet...it wasn't. The small girl walked barefoot toward the collapsed Helcat, a tempest of raw, blue-white power whirling around her form. Her skin was alabaster, her clothes irreparably ripped and such a pale rose it may have been white, and her hair was wild and loose. And her eyes...they were cold and empty, such an alien thing to see in her sweet face. She wasn't Fiona; she was Eve.

She calmly knelt at the Helcat's side, reaching out a shimmering hand to stroke its muzzle. The zoid growled softly in reply. A muted light spread slowly from the girl's fingertips, shrouding the Helcat in glowing power. The light congregated at its injured leg, growing brighter and brighter...until it faded to reveal unblemished metal.

Van's eyes grew wide as the zoid pulled itself to its feet, nudged Fiona's shoulder in apparent thanks, and then ambled off into the dim light of the ruins. He turned to meet Reese's alarmed eyes. "That's...bad, isn't it?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes, very bad." Reese darted a look over the mound, then shakily stood. "Come on, we have to get out of the area and come up with a plan. If she senses us, then the Helcat wouldn't have needed to waste its ammo."

Van nodded and followed her, carefully picking his way down the loose shale. The stone seemed to have settled down well enough, but then again, it hadn't seen human abuse in its time stacked on the floor. A shriek of corrugated rock was Van's only warning before his stepping-stone slipped out from under his foot.

With a yell, he went crashing down. The harsh sound of falling rock echoed about the cavernous ruins deafeningly for a few breathless moments, in which Reese gave him a horrified look. She lunged for his hand and pulled him to his feet, and dropped all attempts at silence.

"Run!" she yelled. They raced down the hall, monstrous pillars escorting them down the dank stone. Reese stumbled a little, her stomach lurching. No...

As a low hum of energy behind them grew rapidly to a roar, Reese snatched Van's sleeve again and dove to the side. She slammed her back to the curved edge of the huge pillar just as a blast of pure power roared by, a wave of heat ruffling her short hair. She gagged at the sudden scorching air, and the stench of charred stone. A crashing report from further down the hall spoke of the thick granite walls surrounding them being devastated by the raw power that Fiona commanded.

After a few endless seconds, the blast thinned and dissipated. Reese breathed again, suddenly worn out. "And that," she said softly, "is why we didn't want to catch her attention." She drew her slitted gaze to Van. "Let's try this again."

He scowled at her and hissed, "Shut up, it was an accident." He drew himself up self-righteously. "Besides, you're sick–who are you to be giving orders?" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the main corridor. Reese jerked in surprise, but let him lead her, a little dazed.

She shook her head, her vision swimming, as movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to look...and moaned, stopping dead. Van shot her a look, then followed her gaze.

Fiona stood about a hundred feet away, staring emotionlessly at them. Reese felt what little color remaining in her face draining away, and promptly ceased breathing. Fiona was staring at her, not Van. Nothing else held her attention. Reese swallowed and started breathing again as a fleeting thought struck her. That she wasn't human, wasn't one of those who abused the zoids, wasn't one fighting them...it might be enough to escape Eve's terrible wrath.

Her hopes were suddenly dashed, as Van dropped her wrist and moved to stand in front of her. "This is no time to be a gentleman," was the hiss that escaped her clenched teeth. He didn't answer. He's trying to protect me. Reese suddenly felt like laughing, but forced the hysterical urge away and focused her gaze over Van's shoulder.

She saw the moment when Fiona's blank eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and suddenly knew what was coming. The power swirled off Fiona's skin, rolling into a sphere of solid energy. Fighting back a wave of dizziness, Reese swore loudly and shoved Van behind her. She threw out her left hand and concentrated with all she had.

The sphere of power burst just as Reese raised her panicked defenses and a wave of white-hot energy washed over her little blue-green shield in a rush of heat. Fiona's attack crashed explosively into the solid stone wall behind them, and gigantic wedges of shattered stone thundered to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Reese heard something crackle ominously, but couldn't spare her attention. She had to keep it focused into the shield...or else it was all over. So powerful, though... Her vision was solid white now, Eve's power threatening to swallow them whole. Reese clenched her teeth, sweat rolling off her temples in miserable washes of intensity. The shield began to dim. No! I can't...let it fall! She brought her right hand up to support the left, desperately sustaining the only chance of survival they had. Her vision blurred in tears of rage, and a final wave of exhaustion threatened to tip her feet out from under her...the shield was going to fall, she was going to fail...

And then warm strength poured into her arm, supporting the shield. Reese snapped her eyes open, focusing on her hand in front of her. Two more gloved hands gripped her wrist...Van. Reese darted a startled glance at him, but felt the shield flicker again. She hastily turned her attention back to warding off Fiona's blast of power.

Finally, an eternity later, the white-hot energy around their shield thinned and stopped. Reese sagged, lowering her hands; Van quickly released her wrist. Before them, Fiona–no, Eve–closed her terrible eyes. Reese muttered raggedly, "Go, go, she's letting us go." She lurched off, dragging Van by his sleeve. He resisted, but then surrendered, and followed, only looking back twice. Passing between the huge pillars, Reese sank to her knees, then finally just lay down, exhausted.

Van sat down beside her, and she turned an accusing eye to him. "What was that?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't anything."

"Liar, liar. Last time I checked, you were human. And no human can do that." She closed her eyes, brow knitting in thought. "It felt familiar, too. Like..." Her eyes snapped open again. "Like Fiona." She sighed. "Of course. That's why your organoid stayed." She sat up, disgruntled. "You could've told me."

He shrugged again. "I didn't think it was important."

She pursed her lips, but said nothing more for a few moments. Leaning against the pillar, she rested her forehead against her knees and relaxed, allowing herself to breathe. Fiona was just short of omnipotent, her power surpassing that of almost every zoid ever made. Even if the Deathsaurer or Death Stinger could have dared to give her competition, she could most likely just cut the core's lifeline. The humans were only alive because she was letting them...or letting the zoids do her work.

What could stand against something so powerful? The answer was simple: something–or someone–that Fiona would not destroy without a second thought. Not a human, then...and not a zoid, because they wouldn't dare oppose their "mother." Reese sighed heavily, raising her head to stare at the stone wall before her. It was unthinkable. And the very thought hurt.

Van stared at her as she stood, smoothing her clothes. As she tucked her hair down, she brought her gaze down to his level. Her voice was quiet as she said, "Do you have a plan?"

He frowned. "A what?" He pushed himself to his feet and returned the stare. "I thought you were the one running the show."

Reese gritted her teeth as a migraine throbbed its way into existence. Being in Fiona's immediate proximity made her stomach lurch unpleasantly, and she swallowed, with difficulty. "Are you sure? You want me to figure this out?"

Van nodded warily. Reese seemed to think for a minute, and then coolly pulled out her revolver. With a practiced motion, she flipped it over, the grip facing Van. He needs the choice. She held it out to him. "Here."

He jumped, staring at her hand as if she held a snake. "What?"

"Here." She gazed levelly at him. "Shoot her." A pause. "Shoot Fiona."

A look of pure fury crossed Van's face. "Excuse me? How can you ask me to do that? Absolutely not." He recoiled from her.

Reese glared halfheartedly at him. "You are blinded by your love for her," she hissed. "You have to put that aside and make the right decision for your species. Don't you want to be able to go back to whatever living family you have?"

Something flashed in Van's eyes, and then it turned to distinct pain. "I can't. No." His voice was steely. "There has to be another way." He tried to match Reese's hard stare, but his defense was weak, and her will–even without psychological enhancement–was stronger. His glare was also diminished by the pitiful-looking cuts staining his cheeks.

Reese's eyes seemed to turn to hard chips of emerald ice, and her voice was just as cold. "There is no other way. You have to do it." Van didn't move, and her temper flared. Antithetically, she relaxed and became strangely calm. "Fine. You've left me no other choice."

With that, she whipped around and strode quickly back the way they'd come. Van stood motionless, staring after her for a moment, then snapped out of it with a start. Beginning to panic, he sprinted after her. Whatever that had meant, it was dangerous.

Reese stumbled back the way they had come, into the main corridor. Van stumbled to her side just as she shot him one last cold look, and raised the revolver to level it straight ahead. Van's eyes grew wide, and he yelled, "Reese! Stop! Don't–"

Reese took aim at the motionless girl before her, curled her finger around the trigger, ready to squeeze it...and then it happened. Time slowed, Reese met Fiona's eyes for a brief instant, and saw for a second what she had missed for so long. A sharp whisper escaped her lips. Mother...

And then, almost subconsciously, she pulled the trigger.

Van staggered to her side in time to have the gun discharge with a roar right in his ear. He gave a muffled cry, covering his ears in a belated reaction, but raised his gaze to see Fiona jerk with the impact of the bullet, a luminous fountain blossoming behind her shoulders. She fell slowly, gracefully, as if whatever powers she had held for the past week or so wouldn't let her tumble into an ungainly heap.

His grey eyes grew with horror, and he clambered to his feet, pushing past a dazed Reese to scramble across the dusty rock. A puddle of luminescence grew slowly underneath Fiona, and he realized with a shock that it was blood. She's bleeding light. He gasped out a soft, "No!" and ran on.

When Fiona died, when her life stumbled to a halt, they both felt it. It was impossible not to. A concussive wave shuddered from underneath the fallen girl, visibly sweeping away dust and pebbles in a rapidly widening, destructive radius.

It hit Van first, and he sank to his knees, holding his head in desperate fingers; it felt as though his skull would crack in two. Seconds later, he blacked out. Reese watched the wave sweep towards her expressionlessly. It seemed so, so slow... She swallowed hard and let the revolver drop to her side with a clatter.

I...am prepared. Prepared to die. She knew. She remembered Hiltz's words from about two years before, and understood the consequences of destroying the Zoid Eve. Although...it shouldn't have affected Van. No matter how much of Fiona he had absorbed, he was still a mere human.

The wave of power soundlessly hit the huge stone pillar just to her left. The column, nearly twenty feet in diameter, cracked at the base, but held itself upright, somehow. Reese closed her eyes and waited. She felt the glass of her goggles shatter...and then everything stopped.

-

The Di-Bison's head snapped back as the Iron Kong's huge fist clipped it under the chin. Thomas yelled as his zoid flipped backwards, the desert whirling sickeningly. As the Bison crashed down, he coughed out an oath. The slash in his hand began to bleed freely again, and he cradled it to his chest. He squinted up through the sweat...and found the mouth of the Kong's plasma cannon yawning in his face.

The breath stolen from his lungs, Thomas could only stare in cold and bottomless dread. A second passed...and then another, each defined by his impossibly slow heartbeats. Finally, the cannon backed away as the Iron Kong pulled back, turning away from him. He blinked and breathed again, then suddenly noticed the palpable silence of the battlefield. Every single zoid, unmanned or not, had frozen, and turned to face the north...and the hunched peaks of the jagged valleys that stood on the horizon.

The Di-Bison lurched unsteadily to its feet, following suit. Thomas swallowed hard, darting his gaze between his bloody hands in his lap and the controls that worked themselves. Beke's busy light was ominously dark, and no reassuring beeps or whistles resounded through the cockpit.

A low hum grew among the zoids, a deafening vibration that rattled both metal parts and sand alike. It grew to a high-pitched roar, and Thomas grimaced, clapping his bleeding hands to his ears in an attempt to block out the terrible shriek. Suddenly, it died, trailing off into a plaintive howl.

As the cry died off into the lowering sun, Thomas cast his gaze around nervously. The stretch of desert was totally silent, all the zoids frozen mid-combat. The comm. links were, for once, free, but only because the soldiers were at a confused loss for words.

Just as Thomas made up his mind to open a link, to fill the silence, to do anything, the console went dark, and a sick-sounding hum followed the blinking lights into darkness. He went pale as the world started to tilt. With a crash, the zoid collapsed.

He forced open the canopy and fell onto the sand, his legs refusing to support his weight. All around, zoids toppled over, their optic lenses black; the battlefield was silent, but for the crashing falls of the zoids. Soon, the showers of sand stopped, leaving the desert at an eerie standstill once more.

"No!" The anguished cry tore despairingly across the sand, and Thomas twisted around to see Raven hunched over his organoid. His cheeks were bloody, his hands likewise. He made no more sound, motionless after his initial outburst. Irvine stood awkwardly at his side, looking on in something akin to sympathy.

Thomas swallowed hard and looked away, his gaze falling at the feet of his zoid. He dazedly registered the stone edging at the Bison's hooves. The core was dead, shut down in a sudden instant. Which, of course, could only mean one thing.

He turned in disbelief to the Valley, where the zoids had faced in their last moments. He'd actually suspected that destroying Fiona–their Eve–would have to be the ultimate solution...but no, not like this. Never like this. He fought the urge to cry out, to keen as the zoids had...but he knew that nothing could ever, ever fill the silence that enthralled them all, not for the rest of time.