First of all, I'm so sorry that this chapter is so late. Things will move much quicker from now on.
Also, I had major problems trying to get this particular segment to work, considering that Harobed was a horrible place to base this part of the story. The only places they could immediately go were Terraniux and the Dark Arena. Bad and badder. The next big landmark in the game is the Temple of Vandora—boring—and the Trench, which would have no significance to the Nali. Anyway, long story short, I'm splitting this up into two chapters, so this might me a little short. Don't worry, though. More is on the way very soon!
(I'll be sure to thank you, right after I shank you, punk. ^_^)
Chapter Eleven: Raising Cain
Skaarj Mothership
Compared to most of the Skaarj race, the Warlord—the number that had been assigned to him at his hatching had been rendered null and void since his promotion to this classification—was a level-headed and mellow creature. Meaning, of course, that he slaughtered his victims quickly and almost painlessly, and he sometimes listened to the excuses of those who had transgressed his orders. Sometimes.
He ruffled out his expansive, leathery wings as the lift that he was standing on dropped lower and lower into the bowels of the Skaarj mothership, taking him to the center nest, where the Source guarded her expansive nest of eggs. Recently, he had been getting troubling transmissions from the WarMasters under his command. Nali were rebelling against their masters, deliberately tampering and destroying Skaarj equipment, forming resistance groups in hundreds of villages, and, overall, being disobedient. He thought it was rather humorous how the Nali were expressing resistance, but some of the WarMasters had put in formal complaints, and one of the Warlord's more tedious tasks was to carry these formal requests to the Queen. He hoped that she would agree to the request of annihilating the Nali race altogether. The prospect of carrying out that task practically made the WarLord salivate with excitement.
When the lift shuddered to a halt, he stepped off and descended the platform that carried him out of the small lift antechamber and into a huge, expansive room that was shrouded in near-darkness. The platform seemed to hover on the shadows, but the Warlord knew that if a light were to suddenly burst the room into illumination, he would be able to see that the walls, stretching above and below him for hundreds of feet, would be covered with a kind of sticky green incubation sap that held the eggs until they were ready to be hatched. At the very bottom, the Mothership opened up into the very earth of Na Pali, so that the pupae could exit the huge structure and begin their terror of Na Pali from the earliest stages of their lives, telepathically compelled to do so by the Queen.
The Warlord had reached the iris hatch that separated this huge incubation room from the laying room. He waited for the door to open completely before he straightened his back and entered the room to have a quiet—and hopefully rapid—discussion with his leader.
The laying room was small and circular, with four emerald green energy beams blooming up from exhaust vents in the floor, being fed into the core of the Mothership directly above them. Between these four feeds of energy, on a raised platform in the middle of the room, the Skaarj Queen rested on her haunches, her horned head turned in the direction of the open door that the Warlord had come through. Her body, cut and lean and covered with green scales, was shrouded in the cool darkness of the hatching room, so the only indication that she was present in the room were her glowing eyes, piercing in their intensity and ethereal in their luminescent color.
State your business. The voice that echoed in his head was silky and confident; her question was punctuated by a short, audible hiss from her throat. To any other Skaarj she would have requested an identification number, but, seeing as there was only one Warlord at any given time during a Queen's reign, she forewent this formality.
Taking her acknowledgement of his presence as an invitation inside, the Warlord stepped away from the doorway and approached the reclining Queen. When he was a few paces away from the platform that she was on, he dropped to one knee, put one hand on his chest, and began delivering his message.
"It is the general complaint from many of our commanders that the Nali race is becoming difficult to completely subjugate. Many are questioning the responsibility of employing Nali to work in the Tarydium mines, as some of them have been destroying the equipment. Their deaths do not pay for the damages already done."
The Queen stirred, her massive tail twitching from side to side. The fact that the Nali have the time to tamper with our facilities indicates incompetence on the part of the Skaarj that are watching over them. Incompetence is a symptom of weakness and that shall not be tolerated.
"That is well understood," the Warlord persisted, not liking her indifferent answer, "but there are so many Nali and so few Skaarj that it is difficult to keep watch on all of our prisoners. Surely there is a way to cut down on the numbers of the Nali to make it easier for our warriors to do their assigned tasks. Kill more of them, perhaps—."
This constitutes lackluster leadership! The Queen's rattling growl made the Warlord wince. Normally it would've taken a while of cajoling for her to become irritable. Something must have made her upset already. The Nali cannot think for themselves and will follow whatever force is most powerful. Our scouts and warriors must be acting like complete fools for any of the Nali to dare attempt resistance efforts.
The Warlord arched his wings, stretching them to their full height. His knees were beginning to ache. "There has been talk of increased Terran activity on the Surface," he said quietly, immediately recoiling as the Queen's angry squeal echoed through the room.
Terrans?! The Queen's slender arm shot out of the darkness; her tri-fingered hand wrapped around the Warlord's body, effectively pinning him to the ground. One of her talons pierced the sensitive skin of his wing. This is the problem—you think only of killing your Nali playthings instead of considering how dangerous the Terrans are to our reign here. Have you any idea of how their presence threatens our very existence?
"Your orders are being followed," the Warlord said helplessly, trying to placate the Queen's anger. His first hunch had been right—something had happened to upset her. "All Terrans are to be killed upon sight."
You say that. The Queen's voice cut through his consciousness like a hot knife, but she lifted her heavy arm from his chest and withdrew further into the darkness. Yet your generals cannot keep their Nali slaves under control.
The Warlord composed himself for a moment, and then dropped his chin to his chest. "You are right, of course," he said shortly. He heard her settle back into her reclined position and met her gaze as she regarded him with a haughty glint in her powerful eyes.
Reinstate a new legion of generals. I want all those who made any formal complaints disposed of. She scraped her talons on the platform she reclined on, tilting her head at the sound.
I will reissue the orders about treatment of the Nali and the Terrans alike. I shall not tolerate weakness.
Harobed Village
"I still think you're out of your mind," Happy said, sitting on the stoop of Baran's doorstep, resting her chin on the back of her hand. Norianna was stalking back and forth in front of her, swinging the Flak Cannon absently in one hand, her fingers clamped firmly around the trigger. Little by little the villagers of Harobed had trickled out of their houses and were huddled in shivering bunches in front of the two Terrans, fearfully awaiting whatever the strange newcomers were deciding to do with them.
"I'm just glad that I knew where the war party was storing this piece of junk," Norianna said in a low voice, hoisting the weapon up to rest on her shoulder. Happy sighed and watched as her breath misted and rose into the sky.
"They're taking too goddamn long," Norianna hissed between clenched teeth. Her cellmate raised her eyebrows.
"It's probably because half of them are running away in fear," she said, trying to sound careless. Her voice came out wooden, heavy. Norianna stamped her foot.
"That's what they should be doing—and instead, I have to threaten to kill them just to get them to come outside and listen to me. Ridiculous."
Happy said nothing, content to be under an open sky again, even if the temperature was below freezing. The metal of her 'prosthetic' limb was comfortably cool against the infectious skin that it had been connected to. She stretched her legs out in front of her, feeling the frosted grass on her ankles. How long had it been since her feet had touched anything except concrete? How long had it been since she had heard the fall of rain on a roof instead of the spilling of blood, or the sound of murmuring voices over dinner, rather than desperate screams for mercy?
Oh, how she hated Shas. Her mouth turned downwards in a grimace as her mind replayed all of the horrendous things he had done to her—every single scar on her body, every single tear she had shed, every single sleepless night and drop of blood and recurring nightmare she had endured was because of him—!
Norianna turned her head over her shoulder. Happy was tearing up handfuls of mud and grass with her good hand; her eyes had glazed over and her mouth was working strangely, as if she was talking to herself. "Hey," she said sharply. "Happy, focus!"
Happy didn't stop; the other Terran stepped quickly over, knelt down, and gripped her chin forcefully in her hand. "Stop it!" she hissed.
The younger girl's eyelashes fluttered; she finally fixed her dull gaze on Norianna's face. The latter smiled weakly. "You with me?"
Happy blinked. "There's someone standing behind you."
"Ch'abar!"
Norianna quickly rose to her feet. A Nali woman towered in front of her, her four hands balled into fists, eyes narrowed. She took another hesitant step towards the two Terrans, deliberately drawing too close to Norianna's body. The translator at her hip beeped; Norianna glanced at the green screen and saw that the words let go were scrawled across the screen.
"Baran!" she shouted, scanning the crowd for the one Nali that she had grown to recognize. She saw him squeezing through the scattered bystanders to get closer to her. His face was set in a stony grimace, but at least he had followed orders. He stood next to the Nali woman and crossed his arms.
"I have done as you asked," he muttered stiffly. "All of the villagers are present to hear what you have to say."
Norianna reached down and clasped Happy's hand. "C'mon, stand up," she coaxed, pulling her to her feet. "Now stand here and look regal. Well," she stuck her lower lip out as she swept her eye up and down her cellmate's form, "try and…just stand."
She unhooked the translator from her belt and began dictating to it. "Citizens of Harobed, I stand here with your Messiah."
The Nali were silent, swaying on their feet. Baran made a frustrated noise. Inwardly, Norianna gave an exasperated sigh. Weren't the Nali supposed to be a little more…enthusiastic about this topic? She was heralding the savior of their planet, after all; even though said savior was a little emaciated and abused and mentally unstable.
Hell, she thought. Is this thing even turned on?
"Baran, are they getting this?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth, trying to look as confident as she could in front of the sea of blank stares she was getting from the four-armed aliens.
"Yes," was the stiff reply. "I have to wonder, though, why you saw fit to drag us out here in the freezing weather. Is this really worth the threat of death?"
Norianna snorted. "I'm no fan of subzero temperatures either, but I figure that standing out here for a few minutes is better than getting split open by Razik blades." As the translator played back her retort, the Nali villagers shuffled nervously. "Yes, that's right. I'm talking about the Skaarj who are, at this very moment, playing seek-and-find in your chapel. Actually, it's more like 'find and become increasingly violent'. They've got your stash of weaponry and they are pissed, to put it mildly. If you couldn't guess, they want to kill you. All of you."
Baran shot a glance to the Mother, who stood serenely by the well in the middle of the village. She did not return his gaze.
The woman continued, cranking up the volume on the translator. "I am a handmaiden to your Messiah. Your Messiah has decreed that you must all evacuate the village immediately."
All heads shifted to Happy, who immediately shrank behind Norianna like a shy child. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I thought you were going to tell them that we were all gonna make a run for it!"
"I am," Norianna said out of the corner of her mouth. "Just shut up and play along.
"Verily!" she continued, waving her arms in the air, "so hast thine Messiah decreed it to be so!"
"Good night," Happy muttered under her breath. "Way to ham it up there."
Her cellmate, though, looked to be thoroughly enjoying herself. "The question lies in whether or not you will be loyal to the Messiah or not, good citizens of Harobed! Will you stay here and die, or will you follow your chosen protector to a better place—a safer place—a haven for both you and the Messiah to gather your forces and resist the Skaarj?"
There was a slight murmuring in the crowd—too slight for Norianna's tastes. She turned to Baran, whose expression was one of slight amusement and disbelief.
"Do you really believe all the things that you're saying? Do you really believe any of us believe what you're saying?"
The blonde woman shot him a furious look. "You are an idiot if you can't see what I'm trying to do," she said harshly. "I don't care if they think she's the Messiah or not, but they need to get the fuck out of this village, and fast. And, oh by the way, you told me that they did think that she was the Messiah. Stop contradicting yourself and help me. Tell them something—anything—but they need to leave now!"
Baran looked out at the group of Nali huddled against the cold. They looked like a crop of plants, withered and brown but still trembling with life against the harsh wind. He would be asking them to leave all that they had ever known and loved, forcing them to flee into an unknown future with nothing but a false prophet as their protection. He didn't even know where the woman expected them to go. He turned his head to look at the chapel.
Certain death waited for them in Harobed. Uncertain death waited for them outside of the village walls. But he had threatened the Mother with his own departure not three hours ago. This is what he had wanted.
"Make up your mind!"
Happy put her hand on Norianna's arm. "Let's see if I can help."
She limped out in front of the crowd and raised her arms; the sunlight gleamed off of her metal limb, forcing all Nali eyes to dwell on her starving form. "I have come through Skaarj torture alive; they cannot harm me. I have been blessed and those who follow me will be blessed likewise. I shall protect you and lead you to safety."
The Nali woman who had confronted Norianna dropped to her knees in front of the Terran. "I'm with you," she said; when the translator played back her message, Happy smiled.
"Anyone else?"
Baran rubbed his eyes. "Diaba…."
Slowly, each Nali citizen repeated Diaba's statement. Norianna sighed with relief and nearly collapsed. The hand that held the Flak cannon trembled visibly. Baran walked up next to her.
"That worked well."
Norianna exhaled shakily. "You people are impossible. All my oration and they fall at Happy's feet when she points to the sky. Belief is a hell of a thing." After a minute of collecting herself, Norianna stood up. "Okay. Let's do this. Happy, come here please."
Happy turned from the throng of Nali who were kneeling to her. "Hm?"
"I want you to take this." Norianna held out the Flak cannon. Happy eyed it suspiciously.
"Are you joking? I couldn't carry that thing with these hands, much less operate it. You carry it."
"Then Baran can carry it." Norianna thrust the heavy weapon into the Nali's chest. "You're going to need it a lot more than me."
The smaller Terran's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about? We're sticking together."
Norianna laughed, tossing her head. "You're so silly! What, run off with a village full of Nali and not expect the Skaarj to pursue? Somebody's got to stall for time; it might as well be me."
"No. You never told me about this."
Norianna put her hands on her hips. "Happy, there's a lot of things that I never told you about because we simply don't have the time. With every second you waste fighting me, that's another second you're giving the Skaarj to catch up with you. I promise I'll meet up with you."
"But you haven't even told me where we're supposed to go!"
Norianna smiled broadly. She swung her arm up and around, pointing at the rock face behind her. Happy was confused until she drew her gaze up and over the mountain. Far, far in the distance, jutting proudly into the coal grey clouds, was a spire of rock that looked to be at least a mile and a half high. It was lean and narrow and stood out starkly against the dusk horizon, a monument to the earth from whence it came.
"There. I want you to go there."
"The Sunspire?" Baran spluttered. "It's a week's worth of walking away!"
"Look, it's the only recognizable landmark on this entire planet, okay? I'm less concerned about your safety as I am with you all getting lost. You all are the native dancers of this planet; you just need to follow someone around because God knows what religion tells you to do so. Just go to the Sunspire with Happy—that's all I'm asking you."
"A wise decision."
All eyes turned towards the Village Mother, who was approaching Norianna with a slight smile on her face. It took Norianna a moment to realize that she had spoken to them in rather good English. Baran seemed flabbergasted.
"When did you learn the Terrans' language?" he asked her as she came to a stop in front of the Terran. The Mother looked at him and snorted. "What are you talking about? I was a priestess of Velora in my younger days. I taught English to your brother. Now then," she said, turning to Norianna, "what you are proposing to do is very brave, but very foolish. The Sunspire is indeed a symbol of hope for the Nali, but I fear that it has been overtaken by the Skaarj. We have not gotten word from the monks there for several weeks."
Norianna's face fell. The Mother put two of her hands on the woman's shoulders. "But fear not, brave one. If the Sunspire is indeed overrun by those monsters, there is a village at the foot of the Sunspire whose inhabitants will warn you beforehand. The Skaarj are relatively disinterested in our simple villages, so the Messiah and the Harobed villagers should be safe there."
"D'ja hear that? Happy, this is perfect. I'll dash off and give Shas some of his own medicine and then we can meet up at this Sunspire place. It's only a week. You'll do fine. I promise."
Happy looked miserable. "What will you use to fight off Shas, though? You're giving the Flak cannon to me."
Norianna laced her fingers underneath her chin and batted her eyelashes. "My incredibly sexy looks. What else?"
The Village Mother reached into the folds of her ceremonial robe. "You are selfless, young lady, but I believe that you will be needing a more powerful weapon."
She presented a sleek, blue-tinted weapon to Norianna with all four of her hands, bouncing it lightly in her fingers. "I do not know what it is called, but it is capable of dealing immense damage with just one shot. I saw a Terran operate it once. The detonation was enough to kill three Skaarj warriors. I bestow it upon you. Use it well."
Norianna picked it up, lurching a little when she overestimated how heavy it would be. "It's so light," she breathed, turning it over on its side. "ASMD. Hm. I wonder." She choked on a bit of laughter. "Reminds me of a funny phrase from a movie I once saw…thank you, ma'am. Very much."
She turned to Happy. "We're out of time, oh cellmate of mine. Would you come here and give me a hug? I'm about to go run a suicide mission."
Happy stubbornly shook her head. "I'm not going to hug you if you're going to die."
Norianna was already backing towards the chapel. "C'mon, c'mon, you're wasting time."
Happy took several tentative steps towards Norianna, wrapped her in a quick hug, then pulled away and slapped her full across the face. "I hate you! You're leaving me to die!"
Norianna brought her hand up to her cheek and then sighed, turning her head towards Baran. "Please, Baran, protect her. Keep her safe until I get back.
"And you," she said, chucking Happy under the chin, "try not to get raped by any more lizards. And take this." She dropped the translator into Happy's limp hand. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, Norianna turned on her heel and fled. Happy watched as Norianna ran nimbly up the hill, her cloak snapping against her heels with the weight of the wet grass. She paused only briefly at the entrance gate to Harobed's chapel and then disappeared behind the crumbling brick wall.
Happy struggled to swallow her rising panic, turning instead to meet the moon-eyed gazes that some eighty or so Nali were fixing upon her. Baran's face was unreadable but somehow reassuring; his was the only familiar face in the crowd. She felt shaken and alone and Norianna had only been gone for thirty seconds. She fidgeted a moment, trying to think of something to say—Norianna had done all the talking; she was so confident and cool about the whole thing. She bit her lip and looked helplessly at the chapel behind her. Baran cleared his throat.
"Go?" he asked, almost timidly.
She felt stinging behind her eyes. Go—and leave Norianna behind? Reflexively beginning to shake her head, she caught the sounds of a scuffle nearby—and then the distinctive roar of a wounded Skaarj. A wave of panic passed through the crowd.
She nodded to Baran, who begrudgingly bent his head in return.
She held the translator against her chest with her false arm and reached out to grab Baran's hand. Wordlessly she pulled him through the crowd, heading down the slow slope of the hill away from the chapel. "Tell them to follow me," she said shortly, preparing to use the translator if he didn't understand her request. Baran, seeing her fumbling with the machinery, reached over with one of his free arms and removed it from her tenuous grasp. "They already are."
Happy turned her head over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of some eighty or so Nali citizens falling into step behind her. The looks on their faces never wavered from wide-eyed fear, but they still followed her. She swallowed hard and yanked her hood over her forehead to avoid meeting any of their eyes. What had she gotten herself into? What had Norianna gotten her into? Did she honestly expect Happy to keep this huge group together? What if they were picked off by Skaarj scouts? What if they were spotted and captured? What if Norianna—
"Happy. You're shaking."
The false Messiah clenched Baran's hand tighter. "It's the cold."
She breathed deeper. If she didn't do this, then she could be condemning these innocent people to death, as well as risking Norianna's disappointment if they met up again. Happy winced at her own thoughts. When they met up again.
Awkwardly holding the Terran's hand, Baran looked around; he noticed with a start that the Village Mother was standing serenely by the well, watching them all depart. "Aren't you coming with us?" he shouted back to her.
She raised her hand in silent farewell and made her way back into her cabin, which was glowing from within with cheerful golden light from the fire.
The smell of the woodsmoke followed them out of the village.