It's been a while! Glad to keep going!
Sirens wailed. Henry's dreams wandered, and he found he was being shaken awake by gentle, yet firm hands.
"Henry! Henry, you have to wake up!" Henry opened his eyes to a frantic Andrew, his eyes frenzied.
"What is it!? What's going on?" Henry asked in alarm, twisting from his blankets and watching all the other men in their cabin pulling on boots, and thrusting helmets on heads still dizzy from sleep. They tripped over bags and stumbled around, confusion the main thought for all. Henry followed suit, waiting for Andrews reply. It came slowly, through labored breathes,
"The Robot. The Robot has come back to life."
An explosion rattled the windows, and the troop began filing from the door, rifles steady on their shoulders. Henry shook in his shoes, fear snaking through his limbs, making his palms sweat and vision blur. Never in his life had he been so afraid.
The second he stepped out the door, heat blasted his cheeks and stung his eyes. He breathed in smoke and coughed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back to Andrew, who smiled grimly.
"Will you make me a deal, Henry? Both of us. Both of us will come out of this alive."
Fire. All Henry could see was fire. Melted stone erupting from the barracks, canons lumps of metal where they once stood ready to cast out rounds of steal. The grass beneath their feet was black and crisp. Steady, his battalion marched to the tower. Which tower, he couldn't remember in all the rubble. All he knew was that atop it was a robot, taller than a tree, casting destructive beams from its head, holding the princess Sheeta in its arms.
Such a creature he had never encountered before. His sheltered life in a tiny mining town never led to such abomination. It was not alive, and yet it moved on its own. Destroyed on its own. He wondered if the robot was hurting the young girl or protecting her. He hoped it was the latter.
A stream of flame was cast from above, and Henry shrieked, feeling liked a small boy. The troop scattered, and Henry dove beneath a hunk of fallen stone. He curled there, quivering. Too afraid to move.
Alive. He must stay alive, for Andrew. For Natslia. He heard a yell. It took him a moment to realize it was directed at him.
"Coward! Coward! You are hiding while your brothers are dying!"
That struck a chord. Something inside of him snapped, and he leaped from his spot beneath the shelter, wacking his head on it and cursing, before screaming,
"I am not! I am not a coward!" His voice was filled with emotion, and he wracked with sobs that would not come. He was here for her. They dare not question his dedication, his love for her! He would fight, he would protect their future...
A foul smell filled the air, of burning bodies and metal. His seared down into his lungs. He swallowed painfully and looked around him wearily. Death. Only death. Something every man feared, no matter how much they might deny it.
Andrew was again at his side, holding him and whispering,
"Let's carry on."
But before they had a chance, a blinding light burned from the tower. A distant cry of "he's dead! We got him" was heard by the pair. Dread swept over Henry, like drinking a glass of cold water. It sunk deep within him—something was very, very wrong. He felt guilt for not feeling the joy everyone else did at the death of the robot. He suddenly knew strongly it was protecting her. It died saving her life. It scared him to think of who it was protecting her from.
Overhead came a buzzing like a giant insect, and above them they saw Pazu, dangling upside down, holding Sheeta, her nightgown flapping in the ashy air.
"We depart at once!" Came the hated voice of the General. "We have to reach Laputa before those blasted pirates!"