Part 13
Darkness shrouded each walkway and corridor. It was no normal darkness either – not like the innocent passing of the day, as the great city of Tharius bade farewell to its sun and embraced the night. No, the darkness and shadow oozed malevolence and promised death – at any moment a plague zombie or Archenemy trooper could appear within the shade, ready to drag them screaming into painful oblivion - especially now as Dassion and the others raced back to the Hermia.
He used to revel in the sleek, beautiful silence of night as he flew his ship high in the starry sky, etching out a decent, if not totally legal, life. But times had changed, he grudgingly realised, as a clinging pain clutched at his chest as he ran onwards, his boots beating off of the metal flooring. The others were ahead of him now – Dar in the lead, his shotgun held at the ready as he loped forwards, seemingly unhindered by fatigue; Vern was next, stress and fear etched throughout his tumbling run, while Mira was directly in front of Dassion and every few seconds she turned, encouraging him onwards.
Dassion heard the sharp bark of Dar's shotgun, the noise making him winch in shock. He wished deeply for that calm feeling he always had as he flew Hermia, but the thought vanished as fast as it appeared, the cold reality of the moment gripping him.
'Keep moving,' he heard Mira say, a hint of tiredness in her voice, but the authority of the arbiter still remained and he found himself continuing forward, even as more shotgun sounds vibrated through the darkness. Something caught his foot and he stumbled, hitting the ground hard, grazing his palms on the rough flooring as he landed.
A faint lit-orb lit the corridor, casting an ugly yellow glow that only deepened the shadow, and he saw a ragged, dusty hand grab for his flailing legs out of the gloom. Dassion cried out, the sudden shock of seeing one of the living dead up so close cutting through his tough demeanour. A pallid, yawning face appeared, stretching out for the warm flesh of his leg. Then Mira materialized, firing her laspistol on full auto. The zombie's head was pin-holed by scores of super hot las-beams, stopping it inches from Dassion's leg.
'Quick, quick,' Mira yelled, taking hold of Dassion's jacket. 'Get up, let's move!'
With her help, Dassion pulled himself up and they moved onwards, past more inert bodies of the dead. As they turned a tight right-angled corner, the walkway suddenly opened up into a ground-based landing platform – the one where the Hermia rested – and they caught up with the hive ganger and Vern. Both of them hid behind the opened bulkhead and as Dassion neared, he saw why: several plague victims wandered around the Hermia, as if guarding it. The soft-sounding patter of rain permeated through the air, giving the scene a surreal feel to it as he watched the dead shamble around the ship.
'What's the hold up?' Mira said.
'Dar was waiting for you,' answered Vern with a slight croak in his voice. It seemed the stress of the situation was getting to him.
Dassion, however, was in no mood for weakness. 'I told you to watch her, Vern,' he said with venom. 'Now look what's happened!'
'Shh,' sounded Dar, racking another bullet into the twin chambers of his shotgun. One of the undead had turned toward them. It had only one arm, with bulging, red crusted eyes from where its blood vessels had burst and dried. Yet, it was not using its eyes to find them, it seemed, as its nose continually twitched, as if it was hunting them through smell alone.
Mira slapped another power pack into her pistol. 'There's only four of them, let's take them before any others get here.'
With that, she burst from cover, dropping the one-armed zombie first, before firing shots at the next closest one. Dar didn't seem to hesitate either, and followed swiftly behind, blasting the third off its diseased feet with a single shot. Dassion and Vern charged behind them, both intent on reaching the Hermia.
Dassion pulled out his data-key as he ran, punching the icon sequence to open the Hermia's doors. With a hiss, the groaning hydraulics slowly pulled open her hull door. Finally, he reached her, and he planted a foot in, his mind already working on the launch sequence. He was brought out of his thoughts, and shopped short at the entrance of his ship just as quickly, as a las-beam singed the hull of the Hermia just by his face. He turned, thinking Mira's stray shot was all-too-close, before he realised that the shot did not come from her.
As he looked back, he saw one of the Archenemy soldiers standing in the platform area, pointing a lasgun at him. Two others were next to him, equally armed. The zombies had all been finished by now, and Mira and Dar stood stock-still, aiming their weapons at the new threat.
A tall, unhealthy looking chaos soldier stepped forward, lowering his weapon. He wore a dark green long-cloak that covered most of his body apart from his head, which was covered in what looked to be pulsating green spots. 'I'm glad I have all of your attention,' he started, his voice horse and ill-sounding. 'You must come with us, our father wishes to meet you.'
Dassion guessed the man was used to being obeyed, by the tone of his voice. It didn't make him want to do as the fiend said, but there didn't seem much choice, there was no way he could ensure everyone would escape – the soldiers aim looked true and deadly.
Mira looked around at Dassion, a hopeless, yet dangerous look in her face. He knew then that if he didn't act, she would do something stupid. He put his hands up defensively, and walked out of the Hermia. 'Don't shoot, don't shoot,' he said. 'We will obey.'
Dassion had no intention of obeying, but he had to buy everyone time to figure out an escape plan. It was a shame that he had no idea of how to get out of this one.
'Lose the weapons, now,' said the chaos leader, gesturing towards Dar and Mira. Reluctantly, they complied, edgily lowering their guns.
There was a silence then, as both sides merely looked at each other. It lasted only moments, but to Dassion it lasted much longer. He felt the rain on his face, and the only sound he heard beyond the thumping of his heart was the falling water as it beat steadily off the platform and the Hermia. He almost smiled at the weirdness of it all, before his thoughts were once more interrupted, but this time by a roaring reverberation. He could not picture what made such an echoing, harsh noise until he saw it with his own eyes.
A man riding a sleek black motorbike charged onto the platform, ripping apart the fragile silence. He skidded in-between the imperials and the Archenemy troops, and pulled out a combat shotgun in one hand, rapidly firing it off in the direction of the chaos soldiers. One of them fell violently backwards before anyone could react, blood fountaining from a deep wound in his chest. To Dassion, this seemed to happen in slow motion, his mind shocked and surprised by the turn of events.
The peace lasted only seconds more, as both parties finally opened up their weapons on each other.
The bike was hit several times, while the rider frantically emptied his shotgun. Dar moved towards the rider, his own shotgun picking off the other Archenemy trooper, his head bursting into fragments with the impact of the bullet. Mira aimed for the leader of the group, but to no avail, as he ducked, blindly firing in the general direction of the Hermia.
'Get in here!' Dassion yelled before slipping into his ship and running for the cockpit. Within moments he was in his chair and plugging himself into the machine spirit. Pre-launch seemed to start without his consent – almost as if the Hermia knew they needed to leave in a hurry.
Someone appeared behind him. 'We're in, close the hatch,' said Mira, relief etched in her voice.
'What about our new friend?' he said.
'Him and his bike too. Can we go, we'll ask questions later.'
'Indeed,' was all Dassion said as he pulled on the control lever, lifting the Hermia off of the ground and closing the outer door as he did so. He could see more of the Archenemy, along with plague zombies, fill the platform, and he heard the faint spik spik of their las-weapons hitting the hull.
He turned his ship and fired the thrusters, flying her out of the spaceport.
As they cleared the platform and the shadow of the buildings around, the rain thickened, covering the frontal display shield. In his mind he heard the soft patter once more, and he signed a breath of relief. He was sure the Hermia's machine spirit did the same.