CHAPTER 5: BEGIN

Mizar's Palace, 9:30 AM, Day 2

Flames shook his head in disbelief at what he had just seen occur. It was so impossible, but it had happened—and things took off so quickly he didn't know what to do.

He was alone, on the ground. His machine gun lay only feet away from him. As his hand came to greet it, he realized with despair that it was already dead. Smoke and fumes drifted out of the front, and it looked trampled. Flames closed his eyes, without hope. The drones would overwhelm them, he thought, in no more than a few seconds...

Robbin crouched against a wall with his missile launcher out. He was low on ammo, he thought for a second. He was surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered, he thought for a moment. But mostly his thoughts consisted of him having a gun, and that making the other two thoughts completely meaningless.

Suddenly, a noise entered his ear from over his shoulder. Almost by reflex he spun around and shot what he thought might be an enemy. The wall in front of him blasted open, but all that was seen was flying rock and debris. He tried to reassure himself, but he was still nervous. His hand only gripped the trigger harder as he stood in that aching silence.

He reluctantly put one foot in front of the other, walking through that dark tunnel. His head was reeling from the circumstances—he was feeling sick. His hand struggled to carry his gun, which felt twice its normal weight. His eyes, which were failing him in this light, signified to him that someone was approaching him. He stopped abruptly and stepped back, shocked and frightened. He made effort to raise the gun up to eye level, pointing at the figure. Immediately arms were raised and there was a cry.

"Robbin, it's me!" yelled a familiar voice. Flames walked to him in relief, finding a survivor. "My gun was destroyed," he panted, pulling his loose shirt up waist level to reveal a belt with which a single grenade was attached. "All I have is this." Robbin made a sigh of despair and acted if he was going to say something, but didn't. He was so tired that even speaking was a chore. He simply motioned with his half limp arm and shuffled forward.

After some hundred yards forward and many suspicious sounds, Flames ran forward to meet another. His gun which was a bright yellow-green had been seen long before himself—Ish. Once again they were relieved to have united with each other, but it did not last long. Through the dark tunnels they wandered in was a low silent chatter. Following it was a footstep or two and the clicking of a gun. The three stood there, absolutely quiet. Their ears closed in to the faintest whisper and caught the shadiest of sounds. If one were to even breathe too loud, the other two would motion them to stop.

Then the foe hiding in the darkness took one big step. One lumbering, oaf of a step. The second its miserable feet touched that ground, the mouth of Robbin's gun hurled missiles at it, throwing bug guts across the room. The room flickered with the gruesome explosion for a moment, and then returned to the pitch dark it once was. The three pushed on through the shadows, completely unaware of what they were facing.

"Ish, I must tell you something." Flames began. As Ish looked at him with curiosity filling his eyes, Flames continued. "When we were attacked, the drones..."

"The drones overwhelmed us immensely." Robbin cut in. "It was unnatural. There was way too much drones to have come out of that vessel. As big as it was, it couldn't house as many as we saw."

"Hmm...how are you two still alive? Wouldn't they have killed you?" Ish pointed out.

Robbin looked at Ish, then at Flames, encouraging him to answer. Finally Flames ventured, "Well...that's what we don't get. We were saved by none other than rebel soldiers."

"Rebel soldiers?! Impossible! But we just got here! You would have been dead long before we arrived!"

"Could this have anything to do with the supposedly dead bases?" Robbin turned the subject around.

"Are you sure they were rebels?"

"Yes, Ish. What about the dead bases?"

"There's no connection. Misplaced rebels and regenerated strongholds? You find me something in common and I'll—"

Ish was cut off by a laser shot cutting a drop of red blood off his ear. Immediately he got out his gun and shot, but only to hit the empty void in front of him. There was silence for a moment.

"What was that?!"

"Sssh!"

Robbin hesitated to use his gun. He was already dangerously low on ammo, and to shoot blindly would be pointless. Once again a laser sprang forward, giving Flames a jump as it landed near his feet. Ish once again charged up his plasma shot gun and fired, but the target was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, they continued walking forward, undeterred. Robbin tripped over what appeared to be the corpse of a tribal, one hand outstretched weakly and the other grasping onto his pistol.

"Shit, this was a squad!" Ish yelled, now firing more into the squad. "They couldn't have taken out the whole damn thing!" he spat with fury.

They walked more and more until they met a wall. Darkness stretched forever to the left and right, but there was still no sign of what they were pursuing. All three of them stood in total confusion and silence, but no more bullets were fired.

"How weird...they stopped shooting." Flames noted. He felt the cold wall in front of him, not trusting his sense of touch until he had ran his hand over it several times.

"But why?" Ish asked rhetorically as he continued on to the first direction that came to mind--the left. Ignoring that question, he moved onto what he considered more important. "This entire squad was destroyed...that can't be good."

"We can only hope the others are more fortunate. Right now things don't seem too good." Flames said. He was running his index over the smooth grenade under his shirt. He had no weapons at all, but he felt much safer when he touched this single explosive...

Flames practically pulled the pin out when Ish suddenly jutted out his arm, motioning them to stop. In the distance could be heard faint gun shots. Not even pistol shots, but shot guns. And that meant part of the rebellion. As they neared the battle site, they could make out figures from the light of constant firing. There were, at least in line of sight, three or four rebels grossly outnumbered by ten drones. Ish leveled his gun, charged, and shot. Instantly one of the drones fell to the ground along with half its brains.

Of course, this attracted attention. Immediately Flames and Robbin scattered, taking cover under areas with little light. It was a wide hallway with the center moderately lighted from gun light. Meanwhile, the way Ish had came and the far side of where he was heading was pitch black. They had the advantage of light and dark, and could use this to their advantage.

Flames, while knowing that the grenade he had was not worth wasting on this occasion, stood in the shadows waiting for some opportunity to attack with whatever means he had left. Robbin, on the opposite side of the dark hallway, was searching for a clean shot with no rebels close to his line of fire. Ish, standing in the middle unprotected, eyed the drones with his shot gun. Another drone fell with a splash of blood by Ish's shell, but it did not go unpunished. A pistol fire went to Ish's general direction. The other rebels took the chance of this distraction to take another drone out.

But the drones got smart to Ish's plan. They immediately ran into the darkness firing their pistols. Not for the unlikely event that they would hit anyone, but for the light. If the drones found Ish, he would be as good as dead. Flames and Robbin would be useless, and the other rebels would be outnumbered and killed with ease. He stood regretting his shots, eyes turning from side to side, looking for an escape.

Squeals came out from the hallway, and the shots lessened. Ish leveled his gun again, and shot into one of the drones. Now the light was dimming and dimming dramatically. Finally, he stood in silence and darkness, a sign of the drones' defeat. He charged up his shot gun, which gave off light. Walking forward, he saw a victorious Flames and Robbin standing over two dead drones with large dents on their forhead. Only a few feet more were other drones which had probably been shot by the rebels.

He let out a sigh of relief and lowered his arms. While light still emanated from his gun, he met the others in the center of the hall.

"That was too close," Flames said, "and in more than one way. If we came here any later—"

"Yes. So much for better luck." Robbin poked at. "I think it's safe to say that the others are in very deep trouble."

"The others in our squad...were killed, I believe. And the wrist watches..." the rebel rose his arm up to the light, revealing the watch completely broken and useless.

"Well, atleast we're together." Ish said, trying to sound optimistic, but failing. "And we need to get ourselves together." He said, letting on a briefing to his plan. "These halls...they weren't normally dark, of course. The light must have been shut down. If that's the case, all of the inside would be dark as well. We have a much better chance of surviving if we get outside, to the light—"

"But how? If we can't see two feet in front of us, we certainly can't find a way out—"a rebel responded.

"But if we can find the mine-cart railings..." Robbin pointed out.

Flames nodded. "Yes, the mine-carts. They were being built for slave labor right on the palace when Mizar was attacked. Then all production ceased...it's only half finished."

"That's what I was getting to. If we can find them, we can sail right through. Along the way, we might even be able to help out some rebels. Then, once we're outside, we'll have much better odds. Who knows. If we can find a working wristwatch, maybe we can even call for help."

"Then it's settled."

CHAPTER 5: END

((Author's note: I know that I haven't updated my story for a long time, and I apologize. I've been really busy away from the keyboard, so that might happen. Anyway, can you guess what's going on yet? Didn't think so. The next chapter or two might reveal some clues to you about what's going on here.))