Chapter 11: Vorian
Vorian Atriedes sighed. He had thought he was done, that the time of Omnius and the Titans was over. But then he stumbled upon the door. He went searching for Abulurd Harkonnen, possibly to repair or further destroy their tarnished fellowship. Well, screw that plan. Vor said distractedly to himself as he watched Omnius' combat meks pour out of the three buildings. It as in a canyon, so that it was easy to protect. There was a spire in the center of this place, and around it stood many anti-air turrets. Then the three production facilities were built around it, like ripples in a lake. Around those were turrets, mostly anti-infantry with a few scattered Anti-air turrets. And outside of the final ring stood hundreds of assault meks grouping for an attack.
Vor spied a small group of specks traveling toward the base, unwittingly. Oh no! They aren't massing for an attack! A defense! But, why so big a force for such a small force? T-that must be Noret's group! Vor sighed again and went back to where he had landed the 'Dream Voyager', his old update ship. He went in and came out several minutes later carrying two large briefcases. He went back in and got two more. He set them on an external foldout bench that was on the ship and opened each one. In one was a large lasgun, broken down for storage. In the next were an assortment of five different model maula pistols and two repeating ones, not quite fully automatic. In the next housed a pulse sword and several pulse grenades, and in the final one were an atomic warhead, and a bunch of grenade style stone-burners, atomic weapon that could be set as to the size of the blast radius. Vor looked over the assortment of weapons and sighed again.
The day after they had buried both Trish and Lucia, the group had moved on. They seemed to be heading on a backwards version of Yuna's pilgrimage. Not that that was discussed. Eight years seemed to destroy her conquest and cut it down into nothing more than a historical fact. No one remembered the fear they had lived through, let alone the lost ones. But that doesn't matter. Dante seemed in a daze and Roland walked behind him, trying to think of something to say. He had never been good with words, so he let the matter lie. Roland felt a great respect for the man who used two pistols, big ones, and a huge broadsword, yet smaller than a claymore.
Tidus had found a claymore inside a cave that he went exploring before the fight with the queen. He had quietly asked Jool Noret to teach him how to use it, yet Noret turned him away with a violent, strong worded explanation about how he would train no dimwitted moron who came to him, knowing that Tidus had absolutely no skill with a blade, and even less with a gun. Though he seemed to be good with large stones and pulse grenades, he remained completely useless. Then he went to Dante and was taught a few things, like Stinger, a three hit combo, and a diagonal fake-out slash that turns into a spine crushing vertical slash. Tidus slept easily that night and practiced that which he had learned the next day.
The group came within sight of the machine camp, but they did not get attacked, until they saw a small squad of cymeks approaching. Noret tightened his gripped on his pulse sword, and Dante sighed. "Leave them to me." He said quietly. "But watch our flanks for a trap." Dante walked forward, hands behind his head, fingers interlaced in a cocky who-gives-a-shit walk. The machines stopped and readied their combat systems. He surveyed the group and sent his left foot kicking backwards, launching his sword up. As it spun, he pulled leather, hauling his pistols out as fast as he could and began to shoot, aiming for joints and gun barrels, to fuck their weapons up, he thought. He holstered his guns and caught Rebellion, darting forward, performing a stinger on the nearest one still active. It fell back and then succumbed to a spinning slash. Dante Dted and rampaged on the rest until they fell defeated. When he turned, he saw the massive force that had surrounded his group.
