It had been too long, Kalani decided. He kept himself low to the ground, slithering forward amidst the detritus and broken glass littering the street. His advance was slow, methodical, and utterly silent. Each movement of his muscles, every step forward he took was guided by rigorous training and experience.
War was a cruel mother, yet an effective teacher. And it had been too long since Kalani had felt her cold embrace around himself. His proclamation as Her Voice all those years ago had been a great honour, the culmination of a career dedicated from the moment of his hatching to the service of the Brood Mother.
Yet, he longed for the battlefield; the rush of adrenaline; the deadly struggle that would cease only with the death of his enemies; the thrill of the hunt. All were sensations he had to give up upon the assumption of his office. Her Voice was too precious to be risked on the battlefield. But today, that would end.
"Halt," he hissed. On either side, ten Huscarls came to an abrupt stop. Not a sound came from them, nor any hesitation. Their faces were hidden behind reflective visors, granting them an almost otherworldly appearance together with their matted-black body armour. They were ready to obey and, most importantly, die if Her Voice were to command them to.
A small pile of rubble from a collapsed shop blocked the street, granting the Pack perfect concealment in their advance. Looking up, through the aid of the integrated visor, Kalani spotted his target, a small Markazian command post. Two dozen or so rebels where there, stationed by what looked like an old and dilapidated fast-food restaurant. It was hard to define how many were inside, despite the magnified vision.
Guards stood outside by some makeshift fortifications and a couple of pillboxes overlooking the empty parking lot surrounding the one-storied building, yet they appeared relaxed. They were far into their own lines after all, and the real battle was occurring elsewhere. Their laziness and overconfidence would be their downfall.
"Prepare yourself, Brothers," Kalani whispered as he activated his earpiece. All around, the Huscarls raised their weapons, running the last checks before battle; a few took their time to hum a brief prayer in Her honour. They were all equipped with tri-barrelled plasma cannons, hissing softly as they were set to half-power. The Markazians were unlikely to have heavy armour amongst them, and the current setting would easily cut apart any protection at their disposal.
Kalani switched channel. "Pack Leader Zertis, we are in position. Do you have the coordinates?"
"Yes, my Lord," came the immediate reply. "Coordinates have been loaded and the crews stand ready. We wait for your signal."
Kalani grinned. "Excellent. You have my authorization to proceed then. Rain fire from the sky."
"Acknowledged. Barrage incoming in four minutes. Good luck, my Lord."
Kalani nodded, turned off the communicator, and waited. Minute after minute crawled forward in absolute silence, aside from the occasional roar of explosion and staccato of gunfire. Yet it was faint, distant, and there was little to worry about.
The Imperial Legions were keeping the other fronts hot, even though Kalani doubted they would manage a significant breakthrough. The battle for the Markazian capital had degenerated into a brutal slugging match of trench warfare; the occasional habitation-hub or city-block changed hands, but the lines were stagnant so far. Towering plumes of billowing black smoke rose high where the battle was the most intense.
The stagnation suited Kalani just fine. He had a Lombax to find.
Laugher came his way. A trio of Markazians stood by one of the pillboxes; one seemed to have just told a pretty good joke. Some distance away, another was busy taking a pull from a cigarette. They thought there were safe so far from the battlefield.
Slowly, Kalani removed the short staff from his belt with the utmost care. He flicked a switch on it and the crimson-coloured, axe-shaped energy blade flared to life, its soft hue reflecting on his armour. Kalani quickly turned it off. He had no intention of giving them an early warning.
Finally, came the whistling. Kalani snapped his head forward; the Markazians had come to an abrupt stop in whatever they were doing. The noise grew in intensity, until it was an ear-piercing scream, howling death as it grew closer a closer. The Markazians shouted, then dived for cover as they finally saw them coming.
Balls of plasma, bright and burning like miniaturized suns, sailed through the air and over Kalani's head. They left burning trails of ionized particles behind as they came crashing down upon the earth like the fist of an angry goddess. There was a flash, then a roar ripped through the air. The next moment columns of smoke and detritus rose high in the air where the Markazian perimeter had stood but a moment before. Though distant, Kalani felt the reverberating shockwaves slamming into him, but held firm.
As the smoke dissipated, the Kartisians were greeted by the sight of craters of melted rock and asphalt, indicating where the accurate artillery fire had struck. One of the pillboxes had simply disappeared, the ground where it once stood glassed by the heat.
Kalani activated the energy blade as he rose from his crouch and at his full height. It was time.
"Now, Brothers!" he roared. "With me!" He leaped clear over his cover and broke into a full sprint across the empty parking lot. Behind, easily keeping pace with him, came the Huscarls, their plasma cannons whirring with energy, ready to be unleashed upon their enemies. Kalani could feel the beating of his heart, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he drew ever closer.
The survivors had just began crawling out of their covers, still shell-shocked and blinking, when the Kartisians fell upon them. The energy axe moved like a blur in Kalani's claws; it was not an elegant nor refined weapon, but a brutal and merciless instrument of war, designed to close the distance with an opponent and deliver devastating strikes. And that it did.
One Markazian fighter dropped, head separated from her shoulders before she had the time to lift her weapon. Another screamed in agony as the blade sliced his belly open and eviscerated him, his armour as useful as paper against such weapon.
Kalani did not stop, moving with unexpected speed for someone of his size, chopping and cutting with deadly precision. A veritable hurricane of death, he spun and slashed in their midst, savouring the blood splattered across his face. His jaws flared open only to close around the head of a Markazian unfortunate enough to be in his path with a loud crunch. A few fired their laser rifles, only to be rewarded by the horrifying sight of the crimson beams pinging off the armour's surface.
Multiple, simultaneous hisses came from behind, and Kalani grinned. His Huscarls had finally come into action, opening up with their tri-barrelled plasma cannons on the survivors. Such weapons had been designed to deal with heavily armoured opponents and light vehicles. Against light infantry they had the same effect of employing a blowtorch on a pan of butter. The survivors were cut down in the merciless barrage in a matter of seconds, some turned into an unrecognizable steaming-hot pulp of blood and molten flesh on the asphalt.
A sharp crack echoed through the air, and one of the Huscarls dropped to its knees, a leaking wound into his side. What came shortly afterward was a veritable hailstorm of bullets, plasma bolts and energy beams.
The Markazian defenders inside the command post had finally regained their wits after the initial shock, and they were now opening fire with every single weapon they had. Kalani's ear caught the clatter and clanking of large-calibre weapons, each shot more akin to an angry bark of defiance.
The Huscarls wasted no time and immediately leaped for nearby cover, hunkering down behind the same improvised fortifications the Markazians had initially set up. Enemy fire washed like a tide over their bulwarks of sandbags and ferro-concrete, yet they stood firm, resisting the urge to fire back.
Kalani however, dashed forward, toward the injured Kartisian still laying on the ground. He grabbed him from his armour's collar before dragging him back behind the only pillbox still standing. Kalani grunted in pain as something smashed into his side, but he did not stop. Her Voice's armour was made up of stern stuff.
Only once they were safely behind cover Kalani did let him go. Energy beams fell all around, cracking against concrete and cutting apart sandbags. It was only a matter of time before their cover was no more. Or, even worse, before the Markazians finally had the sense to start using grenades to flush them out.
"Are you injured, Brother?" Kalani inquired. The Huscarl whipped his head around towards him and, even with the visor, Her Voice could sense his confusion at what had just happened. Finally, he shook his head.
"Only a scratch, my Lord. The armour took the brunt of it." Then, he quickly added, "My Lord, we must move you back and away from peril. We will provide covering fire so th-"
"Back?" Kalani repeated incredulous, before letting out a cackle. "Brother, there is no other way for us but forward!" Then, something caught his attention; the weapon affixed to that pillbox had fallen over to their side of the cover during the confusion. Kalani could almost feel the maniacal grin taking shape on its face as he picked it up from the ground.
It was bulky, long-barrelled and belt-fed, still loaded with a long strip of ammunition, tingling as Kalani turned the weapon about in order to inspect it. There was nothing elegant about it; it was a weapon designed to spew large-calibre bullets as quickly and accurately as possible. Kalani loved it already.
"You see, Brother?" Kalani proclaimed. "Even the weapons of our foes come to our aid. What more confirmations you need that Her Will smiles upon us?" Placing the large weapon against his shoulder, Kalani activated his earpiece once more before speaking into it.
"Brothers, the Markazians seek to halt us," he intoned. "Prepare yourself to fire at my signal. Let's show them what a true deluge of fire looks like!" Affirmative answers echoed in his earpiece, and Kalani nodded in satisfaction. It wasn't as if his Huscarls needed any further encouragement.
He hefted the heavy weapon effortlessly, making sure the barrel sat firmly against the upper limit of their cover as a makeshift brace. He aligned the weapon through the use of the crude gunsight until it rested onto the restaurant's fortified façade from which the Markazians continued their pitiful resistance.
"Now, Brothers!" Kalani shouted, then pressed the trigger.
The heavy gun did not fire. Rather, it screamed. Its clattering filled the air as a constant stream of bullets smashed through the building's façade and into the unfortunate defenders behind. Screams of pain rented through the air, only to be drowned out by the roar of plasma cannons as they opened up on the Markazians as well.
The auto-gun kicked wildly against his shoulder, but Kalani held it firm, sweeping the barrel left and right so to leave none alive. Raritanium-tipped bullets ripped through wood and glass; concrete and steel melted under the constant plasma fire.
And then everything fell silent. Kalani released the trigger and looked up, the gun's barrel steaming and red-hot, glowing. A soft groan ripped through the air, as part of the front roof tilted until it came crashing down, its supports chewed by plasma. A cloud of dust and grit came up, engulfing the building and its surroundings.
"Move in and secure what remains," Kalani commanded through the earpiece. As one, the Huscarls rose from behind their covers and strode forward into what remained of the building, weapons held high, ready to deal with possible survivors.
Hefting the weapon onto his shoulder, Kalani gave the other Kartisian a firm nod of understanding, before jogging up to the rest of his pack.
The inside of the restaurant was a slaughterhouse. Blood run thick across the once pristine tiles, the metallic smell filling the air as Kalani strode forward. Corpses laid in what had once been a dining area; their attempts at fortifying the structure through the use of sandbags and armoured plates had been for naught, as those same pieces of cover had been torn apart and melted, the mauled bodies of defenders laying besides them.
For the briefest of moments, Kalani frowned. In any other circumstance, he could have appreciated the courage of those Markazians, honouring them as true warriors. There was however little time for such courtesies. Their most holy mission could not allow for any distraction.
The sharp and unmistakable sound of weapon's discharge resonated a couple of times, as the Huscarls finished off those still breathing as they scoured the command post. Kalani ignored it, focusing instead on the duty at hand; hopefully they would find some surviving console or intel that could pin-point to them the Lombax's location.
However, time was of the essence. Once the Markazian resistance groups realized that one of their posts had gone silent, it wouldn't be long before a force was mustered to investigate. They had to be quick.
Kalani's ears picked up a soft groan, and he stopped. He slowly turned around, his four eyes settling on the pathetic figure laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. The Markazian tried to crawl away, slowly though. It was clear that his legs were no longer responding, while his left arm … well, there was no longer a left arm.
Kalani hissed, reaching back for his axe still secured to his belt. And then stopped, as he noticed the officer's signs onto the Markazian's once pristine uniform.
"Well, well. It appears that once again the Brood Mother shows us the path forward," Kalani proclaimed, a wide and hungry grin of razor-sharp teeth splitting his mouth as he strode toward the lone survivor. His pathetic attempt to an escape was brought to an abrupt halt, as Kalani drove his taloned foot on his back, pinning him in place. The sound that came out was mix between a strangled gasp and a hoarse whimper, too soft to be properly discerned.
"You are alive. That is good," Kalani began as he squatted by his side, his glinting eyes focused solely on him. "You may be of some use after all. You wouldn't happen to know where a certain Lombax is, would you?"
The Markazian looked up just enough to spat blood on his face. "Go … fuck yourself … you fucking lizar-" The rest was drowned by a cry of pain as Kalani stomped on his lower back a second time.
"Oh, what a pity. I may have indeed broken something important there. Terribly sorry for that," Kalani chuckled. He reached out with a clawed hand for his throat, seizing the injured and struggling Markazian and then lifting him up until he was at his eye-level. The useless stump that used to be his left arm dangled into the air with him. The injury had been cauterized by the plasma's heat.
Kalani licked his lips in anticipation, making a point of showing the Markazian just how many teeth were in his mouth. His pathetic attempts at struggling went almost entirely unnoticed by the larger Kartisian.
"Let's begin again, shall we?" he drawled. "Me and my companions here are looking for a Lombax. We know she's on the planet, but we don't know where exactly." His teeth flashed once more, close enough that the Markazian could probably count them and feel his breath.
"Mind giving us a hand in this?"
The Imperial Juggernaut staggered forward with a cavernous mechanical shriek; half-melted and blackened armour plates fell off its chassis, leaving the sparkling wiring beneath exposed. Oily fluids seeped out from the cracks in its armour, until flying sparks set those on fire. The Juggernaut advanced for a few steps, only for its hovering system to finally give up. It keeled over and landed face-first on the ground as the flames quickly spread and cooked its internal components.
Rivet exhaled, letting out a breath she didn't realized she had been holding, and lowered the Negatron Collider in her hands. Sweat run down her forehead and she could feel the burning exhaustion in her eyes as she struggled to keep them open.
There was a loud cheer somewhere around, but Rivet wasn't sure, nor did she care. She simply sat down and against the trench's parapet, put her weapon by her side and closed her eyes. She couldn't remember in all those years spent fighting the Emperor the last time she had been that tired. Every single muscle of her body was of fire, and all at the same time.
Her ears twitched as they caught the movement of air from nearby, coupled with an unmistakable humming sound. Rivet let out a tired sight as she flicked an eye open.
"What is it, Phantom?"
The Rilgarian pulled up his visor, making his quizzical frown visible. "How in hell did you … ah, never mind. It's a stupid question anyway. You feeling good, Riv?"
She shrugged. "As much as can be expected. Mind checking if there are any more warbots incoming?"
Phantom looked up, peered over the parapet before quickly shaking his head. "Seems like you got most of them. The rest are running back." Then, a look of concern appeared on his face. "Jeez, you look like hell though. You sure you don't need something?"
Rivet was about to shake her head until she realized how parched her throat felt. Even swallowing was painful. "Maybe. You've got any water with you?"
"Well, no. I can ask around though."
"I … I don't think that's …" she began with a soft groan, but then something hard and metallic landed in her lap. Rivet's eyes narrowed as she finally made out what it was. An old canteen, finely carved but with rust obscuring the crest emblazoned on it.
"Have a drink from that," a new voice intoned. "That ought to get you back on your feet." Rivet looked up, noticing the Markazian woman standing by Phantom's side. It took some time for the image to click in Rivet's mind, but in the end she recognized her. She had been with Maximilian when they had first met; the scar on her face was hard to miss. There was a softer air around her now though, the hardness in her gaze having mellowed a bit, granting her visage a certain grace, despite her soaked and dirty fatigues.
Rivet reached with her artificial hand for the flask, flipped it open to take a generous gulp. And then almost spit it out, eyes wide open and bulging out as the liquid set her mouth on fire. She coughed, struggling to keep it down.
"What the hell was that?!" Rivet croaked after downing it with a gulp. The Markazian simply grinned, shaking her head in amusement.
"Just a little brew we put together. A local classic, you know." She winked. "You seem to be holding it alright though, and that's no small feat, believe me. Our liquor is quite famous in Polaris."
"Yeah, I think Clatchky kinda warned me about that," Rivet groused amidst a fit of coughs as she handed the canteen back. The Markazian then reached out with a gloved hand to her, one that Rivet went to grasp after a shooting her a look of confusion. She quickly clambered back on her feet.
"Thanks though. By the way, I don't think we got introduced," Rivet mused, cocking her head to one side. "Name's Rivet."
"Tanya," she said. "Tanya Apogee."
Rivet raised an eyebrow. "Apogee? Uh. I mean, he did mention having a daughter. Nice to meet you."
"Oh, he did?" She chuckled, thought there was little mirth in it. "Nice to see dad remembers I'm here too, once in a while." Then, shaking her head, "Never mind. That's a whole different can of worms for a different time. Now, are you coming?"
Rivet blinked. "Coming? Coming where?"
Somewhere behind them came once again the thundering of artillery, now more similar to a soft moan in the background. It was a sound Rivet was increasingly growing numb to. One had to wonder where in Zoni's name had the Markazians found all those weapons. She shot Tanya a glance; maybe she would ask later.
All around, Markazian fighters shuffled back toward friendly lines as fresher faces moved up to take their place. A few exchanged greetings and jokes; some shared a cigarette or two. Most were silent; those leaving grateful for the rest, just as the newcomers steeled themselves for the fighting that would await them.
"We've got a briefing this evening, and we need you in top shape. This could potentially turn the war into our favour, and Ancestors knows we need a lot of help, so do not try and wriggle yourself out of this one." She leaned her head closer to her, sniffed a couple of times, and then immediately jerked it back.
"And please get a shower and some rest! The next hours might very well decide the future of my planet, and I don't need you collapsing midway due to exhaustion." She gave her a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some other stuff to do. See you all back to HQ," Tanya said, before turning around and walking away, a laser rifle slung over one shoulder.
Rivet blinked, watching her until she moved past one of the trench's bends and out of view.
"I think she likes you," Phantom pointed out with an amused chuckle.
"Ma'am, we do apologize for the delay," LT-4471 spoke quietly, his voice modulator crackling with a small hint of interference.
ALC-856 said nothing as her eyes fell upon the warbot standing before her. His chassis had been dented in several places, punctured outright in others. And then there were the countless laser burns, blackened stains dotting the entirety of his metallic body. One of his metallic "legs" kept on twitching, part of his covering gone. And finally, there was the left arm.
"What … What happened to your…"
"The Markazians caught us by surprise, ma'am, and I've sustained injuries during the destruction of my HQ." He hefted the new addition grafted to where the left arm-mounted blaster used to be. "The engineers have done an admirable job, though. Such weapon has proved incredibly effective against organics."
"It's a flamethrower."
"Yes, ma'am. It is." His lenses ceased examining the weapon, focusing onto the Assistant's hovering form. "Ma'am, I have to ask. How many commanders have survived the attack?"
She shook her head. "None as far as I am aware. There was a disturbance I think, then I lost contact with all of them, and then the attacks begun and …" ALC-856 paused, looking up. "I don't know how much is left."
LT-4471's eye sensors slowly turned around in their bulb-shaped tank towards another warbot waiting nearby. "Lieutenant, how much of the Legion is in shape for a fight?"
"Two thousand at most," he reported dutifully. "We've managed to gather all survivors we could and escorted them within the safety of the Imperial Zone. Although I must point out, commander, that our warbots overall combat efficiency has increased considerably since your decision of synchronizing them with your own processor."
"Wait, what?" ALC-856's sensors blinked at him in alarm. "Commander, what is he talking about? What have you done? That kind of procedure is illegal by Imperial Decree!"
'And for good reasons. The last time we allowed an Imperial Commander to synchronize with his own forces he started getting some worrying ideas. Thankfully we scrapped him just in time.'
LT-4471 paused only momentarily before shaking his head. "There is little time to explain, ma'am. Our situation was precarious, and I employed every instrument at my disposal to assure the integrity of my force. Once this battle is concluded, I'll subject myself for examination and accept any sentence passed over me. Is such arrangement satisfactory?"
The Assistant froze, unsure on what to do. Whatever she was about to say never left her voice modulator.
'Usually warbots cower in fear when speaking to me, just like they did with the Emperor. Why isn't he doing anything of the sort? Should I punish him? Can I afford to punish him?'
Truth to be told, the last two weeks had only been one setback after the other. She had lost contact with all imperial forces outside the Markazian capital, watching impotently as the forces she had worked so hard to amass were picked off in detail by constant rebel attacks. The fact that LC-4471 had managed to return, with thousands of survivors from different legions no less, was a miracle in and of itself.
The walls trembled as mighty detonations were heard, coming muffled from the outside. The chandelier hanging high above trembled, swaying slightly as more dust fell off from the ceiling. ALC-856 snapped her head up in apprehension. She was running out of time.
"Be honest with me, commander," she began, struggling to hide the tremble in her voice. "C-Can we win this?"
LT-4471 tilted his head slightly to one side, his glass tank glinting softly under the few interior lights still functioning. "Victory was possible when I first formulated my analysis," he began, his voice grave. "As of now? Our forces have suffered too many losses, and the Markazians are closing in. Drowning us under waves of constant assaults would be well within the realm of possibility. I doubt they'll do it, so I suspect they'll be methodical about it. They'll demolish every strongpoint one by one before launching the final assault here."
"So, to answer your question, ma'am," he concluded. "No. I don't believe we can win anymore."
Had she possessed a real heart, ALC-856 was confident it would have sunk in her chest. Her head dropped, arms falling limp by her side. Everything she had work towards, everything she had fought for up to that point, had it all been for nothing? Was His vision for a robot utopia destined to be eradicated by those squishies and delivered to the dustbin of history?
'I … I have … I have failed Him … I have failed Him …'
"C-Commander," ALC-856 said, her voice quivering. "W-We … we thank you for your service. Now… leave us alone, please. I … need some time."
LT-4471 said nothing, simply bowing his head at her before moving to the exit, the warbot lieutenant trailing some distance behind.
One second of utter silence passed, broken only by the sound of the office door snapping close. Another shockwave rippled through the room, this time stronger. The windows' glass trembled in their frames, or whatever was left of them.
And then the Assistant screamed, her furious and desperate electronic screeching powerful enough to reverberate throughout the Palace of the Legislature; an island of apparent calm in the midst of a raging storm.
"Seriously, hotshot? Two weeks?" Rivet pouted, pushing a lock of hair off her forehead. "What you two have been up to until now?"
The holo-screen before her flicked again due to interference, but she managed to make out Ratchet rolling his eyes from his side of the screen. His face was scruffy, with tufts of brown and golden fur sprouting out from his cheeks. Rivet couldn't tell why, but she was having trouble not to stare.
'He looks pretty though,' a thought broke into her mind for a split second, before she bashed it away. Why was she even thinking about that anyway?
"Yeah, I know. Sorry for that, but things around here have been a little messy. I really didn't have the time to call you."
"I believe messy is a slight understatement given our current situation," Clank interjected, at which point Ratchet shot him a look.
"Way to cover my back, pal."
"Hey, don't you blame Bolts now. He's not the guy that disappeared for two weeks without a single word," Rivet pointed out.
Ratchet sighed, then shook his head. "Okay, fine. I just said I was sorry, Rivet. What else I'm supposed to say?"
"I don't know about now, but I can tell what you should have done from the beginning." She crossed her arm on her chest, eyes narrowing. "That is, calling me and Kit immediately, so we could have given whoever decided to hurt your friend an asskicking so thorough he couldn't have sat down for a month!"
Ratchet raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? You mean in the same way you decided to let us know that you were going after the Emperor's assistant? Hey Clank, maybe I was sleeping, but did we get any call from her?"
"I do not believe we did, no."
There was a pause as Rivet chewed on her lower lip, eyebrows furrowing. Finally, she threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine! You have a point, I should have at least sent a word to you guys. Happy now?"
"Oh, absolutely. I'm doing backflips right now," Ratchet quipped, before his face turned a little more serious. "But I do appreciate the thought, you know. Of you wanting to help, I mean."
Rivet smiled, and this time genuinely. "Don't sweat it, Ratchet. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't propose to smash an asshole that pissed you off with my hammer?" Ratchet chuckled softly. She liked when he did that.
"Right. That's what friends are for. Hey, by the way, where's Kit? Is she with you?"
"I'm here, Ratchet," the diminutive yellow bot spoke up, waving up with a metallic hand as she stood on her tiptoes, so that it would appear within the frame. "My apologies, but I'm having trouble finding a proper setting for my holo-projector." She frowned, even though only Rivet could see her. "That is unfortunately the best I could do at the moment."
"Oh, don't worry, Kit," he said, "I'm sure you'll eventually get the hang of it."
"Kit?" Clank suddenly spoke up, his eye-sensors slanted in a frown. "Did you just said that you are communicating through your own projector? As in, you have managed a compatible plug-in with the Extradimensional Rift-based High-Speed Communicator?"
"Something of the sort, yes," Kit gave a timid nod, although he couldn't see her. "It took a while, but I had some free time, and the Markazians have kindly allowed me to scavenge the Imperial databases for a good program to employ. It is nothing major, really …"
Clank blinked repeatedly. "Nothing major? Kit, I've tried doing the same for weeks now, without success. This … what you've just achieved is a breakthrough of incredible proportions! You should be proud of what you've just done."
Kit let out an embarrassed chuckle, though Rivet didn't miss the smile on her features. She moved to give her friend a pat on the head, but then stopped midway, almost fearful of touching her.
"Heard that, Kit? You've managed to impress Bolts. Not a small feat, let me tell you," she said instead. None seemed to have noticed her previous hesitation, however.
"Yup, can confirm," Ratchet added. "How's that you never are that proud with me, uh?"
"I'm sorry, Ratchet, but have you achieved a scientific breakthrough in the field of trans-dimensional communication as of late?"
"Well, it's not my fault you have such bloody high standards, you know," the Lombax grumbled, much to everybody else amusement. Rivet grinned, genuinely. She treasured moment like this one; to just spend some time with her friends, with nothing lethal dangling over their collective heads. Sadly, such moments were brief, and this one was no exception.
"So, uh," Ratchet begun after a while. "How are things on Markazia?"
"A mess, but we're managing. How's your friend?"
"You mean Grimm? I … well, I don't know," Ratchet's ears dropped as he spoke. "Communications with Igliak are still shaky and with Aphelion out of commission we had to rely on Basilisk III local connection to …" He shook his head. "Dammit, I hope he's alright. At least Felton should have contacted us if … well, you know …"
"I know. Don't worry, I bet he's alright," Rivet said with the most confident grin she could muster. She knew what he was going through. She had lost too many friends and colleagues, some very close to her, over the course of their fight against Nefarious. It was not something that got easier with time.
She decided she needed to say something else quick, at least to distract him. "By the way, hotshot, you haven't yet showed me your starship- wait," Rivet froze, eyebrows furrowing, as one piece of information clicked in her mind with frightening clarity.
"Did you just say Basilisk III? As in, the planet you're currently on?"
"Well, yeah. I thought I had made it clear already. Something's wrong, Riv?"
"Nothing, it's just …" she paused, a note of uneasiness clear in her voice as she quickly looked over her shoulders, as if assuring that they were not being watched. "Okay, look, here's the thing. You remember the lorbs you found back on Savali?" Ratchet nodded. "Well, I found one here too. Although, to be more accurate, somebody gave it to me. Weird Markazian guy honestly, but that's not the point. I listened to it and well …" she paused, scooping out the lorb resting nearby so to present it to him.
Rachet's eyes widened considerably as they fell on the orb-shaped device. The inscriptions and lines along its surface glowed softly, casting a pale blue light that reflected onto Rivet's metallic arm.
"Better if you just listen to it," she concluded. She pressed the upper part of the sphere with her thumb, activating a hidden button with a loud click. The shimmering seemed to grow in intensity, the symbols and letters along its surface glowing bright. A crackling sound filled the air, almost like an electronic interference.
Then, came the voice. It was male, grave, yet immensely tired.
"I know the Council will be displeased to know that I've not been able to give them daily reports as per requested. However, I would be lying if said that I actually give a fuck about what the Council thinks. So, here's my report, even if no lombax will ever read it." The voice drew a deep breath.
"I've reached our colony on Savali to organize the evacuation, but it was already too late. The defences were crumbling and our people … they …" Another pause. "Those fucking animals showed no mercy. They came out of the fucking air, through dimensional rifts no less, by the hundreds, howling, crying, singing as they killed every lombax present. It was a blood bath, and I had to make a hard choice. Many, too many friends and colleagues have remained behind, and we can't go back. May the Ancestors have mercy on those poor bastards."
Rivet sucked in breath. No matter how many times she listened to the message, to hear the raw pain in the voice always sent a chill down her spine. Glancing to the side, she noticed Ratchet as he blinked slowly, his attention completely enraptured by lorb as if in a trance.
"The trans-dimensional boundaries won't stop them though. Honestly, I don't know what will. We've lost contact with countless colonies and research stations across multiple dimensions and I … I don't know how they're doing it! I'm the Keeper of the Dimensionator, the Council wants an explanation, yet I've none to give! This should be outright impossible!"
Ratchet's eyes went wide, mouth agape and tail rigid behind. He looked sick, as if he was ready to fall over right there.
"Alister called me a couple of hours ago. Said that the Council has authorized a general mobilization on Fastoon and the Praetorian Guard is being mustered. I just pray that he isn't too late. Thea was there too, she … she begged me to return home, before something happens to me as well. I …" There was a knot in his voice, as he was trying to swallow something hard. "I'm sorry, Thea, I truly am, but I can't go back. Not yet."
"I know where they're headed. It's just a theory but, if correct, it may very well give us a chance to fight back. Their target has to be our research complex on Basilisk III, they want what's inside." The voice turned cold. "I cannot allow it. Whatever happens, they cannot retrieve what's inside. I'd rather die than letting that happen!"
There was another moment of silent, then a deep breath. "I cannot believe what I'm about to say but Alister may be right about Tachyon. I don't trust him since last year, true, but the Cragmite is brilliant and if he actually delivers his promises, well …" A rueful chuckle was heard. "Ancestors, am I really thinking about it? It's not like I have much choice, and I need all the help I can get. I'll try and have a word with the rest of the Council later this week, but now I must go. If my new friends here are correct, we've got only a brief window for the warp jump. I'll leave this message in our safehouse here on Markazia. I instructed our friends to destroy it should something happen. This is Kaden, Keeper of the Dimensionator and permanent member within the Council. May the Ancestors watch over us, beneath the pale moon of Fastoon."
The message ended, the glow of the lorb dimming until it was barely noticeable in Rivet's hand. The Lombax glanced up for a moment, waiting for Ratchet to say something, yet he did not. He simply stood in complete and utter silence, his eyes never leaving the orb, as if they had been magnetized to it. The silence stretched out for several seconds.
"Ratchet," Rivet begun, slowly. "Who is Kaden?" She suspected from his reaction that Ratchet knew him, but he was not going to draw any conclusions yet. The male Lombax's lips moved but no sound came out.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said," Rachet uttered, his voice nearly a whisper. "He was my dad."
"Oh."
"You know, in all those years, I always wondered what he sounded like." He gave a weak chuckle. "Not exactly what I expected, I'll be honest."
"You alright?"
Ratchet shrugged. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just … you know, a lot to digest." He did not sound very convinced.
"He mentioned something about Savali though. Do you think he was talking about the archives? And who's this Alister guy he kept mentioning?" Rivet wondered.
"Alister is kinda of a long story. And a complicated one at that."
Rivet blinked. "Wait, you know him?"
A shadow seemed to cross the Lombax's face as it darkened. "You remember when I said you were the first Lombax I ever met? Well, it was not entirely true."
"What do you mean it's not entirely true?" Rivet's eyes narrowed as she placed both hands on her hips. "Are you about to tell me that you've met another lombax before? And you didn't mention it?"
Ratchet shook his head. "As I said, it's a long story."
"Well, we got some time, don't we? Might as well start."
Ratchet shook his head, but a small smile had made its appearance on his lips. His green eyes shone brighter for a brief moment as they met hers. Rivet could swear her heart had skipped a beat right there.
"I guess it's true. Very well, go grab something to eat while you're at it, cause it's time for a long excursion down memory lane. You see, some years ago me and Clank were on in Alero City in Kerwan, a planet in the Solana Galaxy. Thanks to Big Al, a friend of ours living there, I had just managed to get my hands on a hov-bike and I was in the process of fixing it up and take it for a ride."
He paused, letting out a loud and annoyed sigh. "Of course, a very irritating someone decided to pay a visit to us, together with a whole legion of Drophyd commandos. Things kinda got worse from that point on …"
The tension within the room was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a protonic blade. The Kartisians, so focused on preparing themselves to battle but moments before, now stopped and looked up, their faces a mixture of incredulity and rage. On the contrary, Kalani was perfectly relaxed, his eyes occasionally flicking up from his data-pad to examine the warbot standing before him.
"How dare you?" Mekior finally hissed. Clad in his ceremonial robes, he strode towards the Imperial bot; despite his smaller size, the Devotee carried righteous fury in his steps, his eyes akin to burning pieces of coals as they bore into the machine.
"How dare you?!" He spitted out those words as if they were venom in his mouth. "You dare come here? You dare issue a command to Her Voice!? You, an unnatural monstrosity of cogs and steel whose very existence is a mockery of the life the Brood Mother has gifted us, dare issue an order to Her Will made manifest!?"
The Imperial warbot, a rather modest model shorter than its tri-legged counterparts, flicked its sensors for a moment around the hall. The surrounding Kartisians had all reached for their weapons, and now were glaring at him with murderous intent. A single word, a single uncalculated action, and the entire hall would erupt with violence.
Kalani was the first to move; he placed a hand on Mekior's shoulder. "Enough, Brother. This thing is only a messenger. Do not waste your anger on such trivial matter." That seemed to have some effect. Mekior's breath slowed down a bit, the flush on his face waning.
"Yes, of course. But, my Lord, this thing, it-"
"It is alright," Kalani repeated, this time a bit more forcefully. "You may return to your occupation, Brother. Rest assured, I'll be dealing with this thing." Then looking up at the warbot, a frow appeared on his visage. "Well? Do you have a message to report or not?"
"Commander LT-4471 has requested you and your forces in Sector 05. We suspect the rebels will soon launch an assault in the area. He requires you to repel them."
"He requires me to win the battle for him, you mean," Kalani chuckled darkly, as sentiment echoed by the other Kartisians present. "But very well. You may tell him that I'll be doing the dirty work for him and that disgrace known as the Emperor's Assistant." He flashed the bot a wide grin. "Now, scurry along, will you?"
The bot didn't need to hear that a second time. He turned back and promptly zoomed out of the room as fast as his grav-repulsors could carry him. He nearly missed Zertis on the way out, but the Pack Leader easily managed to sidestep him as he entered the room.
He looked over his shoulder just enough to launch an irritated glare toward the fleeing warbot, before turning back to address Her Voice. "Did I miss something, my Lord?"
Kalani grinned. "Oh no, on the contrary. Your timing is impeccable. I was about to send for you anyway. Tell me, Pack Leader, what's the status of our forces?" He shrugged.
"I would say good, but we've taken some losses in the last weeks. The Markazians can be fierce and cunning opponents when they choose to. I've given the order to let the Imperial bots go first so to soak up the damage as much as possible, so we managed to mitigate the worst of that."
"Excellent. And, what about the Manticore?" he asked, eyebrow furrowed. "Is she … operational?"
"Almost, my Lord," Zertis replied with a swift nod. "Integration with Imperial technology has been easier than expected, and our technicians have worked wonders so far. By tomorrow morning, the first will be ready for deployment."
Kalani shook his head, grinning wildly as he did so. There was a predatorial glint in his eyes. "Once again, you have exceeded my expectations, Pack Leader! You have done well, and you have my gratitude. As a reward for your actions, I'm placing the Manticore and her crew under your direct command. Use them wisely tomorrow."
Zertis nodded, his chest swelling with pride. To serve Her Voice was an honour by itself of course, but to have his achievements being acknowledged before a host of his own warriors? It was rare honour for him, and he took his time to savour the moment fully. However, a thought broke through his mind, causing him to frown.
"I beg your pardon, My Lord, but did you say 'tomorrow'?"
"Indeed I have," Kalani confirmed. "The Markazians are finally moving, and the Lombax is with them. Even better, she has with her exactly what we are looking for!" Kalani shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle of amusement. "Truly, the Brood Mother's aid comes in most unexpected ways."
"So She does, my Lord," Mekior quickly added from nearby, though Kalani ignored him. He turned his attention instead to the warriors filling the hall, who had been listening to him all the while.
"Brothers. Sisters," he addressed them, spreading his arms wide. "For thirty years we have waited for their return. For three long decades we have prepared to face again the Ancient Enemy. Each of you has trained exhaustively for this, fought tirelessly to honour Her name in countless battles and campaigns. Your entire life has been dedicated to this single moment!" The Kartisians whooped and shrieked their approval, some of the veterans pounding their chest-plates like the warriors of old.
Ever the careful orator, Kalani went on, each word and syllable crafted and chosen to elicit the maximum response. "I can see in your eyes the burning fire, the unbreakable faith that led us here. Never forget, you are the heirs of one of the greatest empires that ever existed. When treacherous hands ripped it apart, you were the ones that remained true to its legacy. In your heart, in your veins flows the ancient blood of your ancestors. Stand proud now, sons and daughters of Kartin, and reclaim what was stolen from you!" His voice grew in intensity with each word, fire poured into every single one of them thanks to unshakable conviction.
"Her Embrace shields and protects us across the stars!" Kalani bellowed.
"AND HER VOICE DROWNS ALL OTHERS IN DARKNESS!"
The answer was a deafening roar of pure fury and hatred, coming out by dozens of throats as they howled in furious affirmation to Her Voice. Battle and blood awaited them, and their destiny would not be denied any longer.
"Took your time, uh?"
Rivet jumped off her skin as the voice manifested itself behind her. Old instincts kicked in and she whirled around, ears pressed back and one hand hovering on the blaster secured to her side. Only once she realized the origin of it, she allowed her guard to drop with a frustrated sigh.
"Don't you ever do that again, please. I was this close from shooting you!"
Tanya emerged from one of the alcoves littering the covered walkway. There was an amused grin on the Markazian's lips. "Oh, you could have certainly tried. But honestly, I've been shot at enough times that it has gotten pretty boring."
"Can relate," Rivet said. "So, what you're doing here anyway?" The sun had fully slipped beneath the horizon some thirty minutes prior, and countless stars shone above their heads. Most of the fighting down in the city had died down by now, though the lights there were few and far in between.
"Waiting for you, of course. Can't really start a briefing without the 'rebel Lombax'."
Rivet scoffed at the umpteenth use of that name. "Well, I could have arrived sooner, if someone had woken me up after five minutes like I had asked her to do." She threw Tanya a irritated glance, but the Markazian simply shook her head.
"Five hours of sleep are the bare minimum if you want to look presentable, and probably you needed them anyway. I'm sure that boyfriend of yours did not mind waiting a bit. Pretty sweet guy, actually."
Rivet froze, every single muscle of her body going completely rigid at those words. Aside from her cheeks of course, turning to a rosy shade that she was thankful her white fur could hide. The next words came out as a sputtering deluge.
"W-Wait … boyfriend? Oh, no no no no. I think you made ah … ah … a huge mistake. Yes! Yeah, that's right. Me and Ratchet … we are not … I mean I don't think we … uh … we are not that, alright?"
Tanya arched an eyebrow. "Uh. Could have sworn you two were. I apologize then. I clearly misread that whole thing."
"Yeah … yeah …" Rivet paused. "Wait, how do you even know that I had a talk with him?"
Tanya laughed. It was not a mocking one though; she sounded genuinely amused. "I've spent the last seven years leading covert raids against Nefarious's bots all across the planet. Give me some credit, girl!"
Rivet frowned. Even if she was not completely convinced, she decided to nod along. Then, Tanya looked at something over Rivet's shoulder.
"Ah, and she must be the famous bot my technical team won't ever shut up about. Well, Lombax, aren't you going to present us?"
Rivet blinked. "Uh? Oh right, of course. Sorry." She shot a glance over her shoulder, before turning slightly so to give Tanya and Kit a better look of each other. "Kit, this one is Tanya, a Markazian that I've met literally a few hours ago. Tanya, this is Kit, my …" The pause lasted for barely a second, yet for Rivet felt like a small eternity. "My friend," she finally said.
"Hello," Kit said with a timid wave of her hand. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and-"
She never got to finish it. Tanya immediately seized her metallic hand and gave it a vigorous shake.
"Pleasure is all mine, miss. Got to admit, I wasn't very enthusiastic about working with a former warbot. Even went so far as to warn command that nothing good would come out of it."
Kit flinched slightly at those words, only to quickly brighten shortly afterward. "Though I've got to eat my words, cause you have carried your weight so far. Both of you I mean." Then, she gave her a wink.
"Thought, if you allow me to be honest for a moment, our cryptology department will at minimum build a statue of you once this is over. I've never heard those eggheads sings the praises of someone in my entire career, so what you've done so far is something."
"Oh, it was nothing, I assure you. I simply happened to crack a couple of Imperial codes. They follow a rather standard pattern once you pass the first level."
"Say whatever you want, but those codes allowed us to anticipate those Imperials more times that I care to count. And thanks to that, a lot of my friends are still alive. So, thank you, Kit. Your contribution has been critical to our cause, and you can be certain I, no, we won't forget it."
Kit remained silent, seemingly overwhelmed by the picture that was being presented to her. Tanya took that cue to turn back towards Rivet. "And I've heard from the boys on the ground that you have achieved quite the body count so far, uh? What was the number, two hundred or something?"
"Two hundred and fifty-seven warbots destroyed, one hundred and twenty-three disabled," Kit sheepishly pointed out. Rivet gave her an inquisitive look. "I've been keeping count," she explained.
"Don't know where you learned all of that, but it sure as hell is helping," Tanya said with a grin, before throwing a quick glance down at her wristwatch. The grin turned into a deep frown.
"Better not keep them waiting though. Alright, follow me." And without another word, she led them both inside.
The place used to be a multi-story hotel. Now, half of its elegant façade had crumbled down, the walls and windows of the last few floors blackened by soot, as recent fires had ravaged the building during the fighting.
Inside, it wasn't any better. The main lobby had been thrashed, all the fine ornaments and furniture stripped away, and then converted into a fortified checkpoint, the Markazians manning it waving Tanya and Rivet through without much of a fuss. Rivet couldn't help herself from gulping as they passed through; the Markazians there had several plasma cannons pointed straight for the main entrance. A bit excessive perhaps, but it did convey the 'do not disturb' message quite well.
From there, Tanya led them through a side corridor that had seen better days, water pipes constantly leaking just above their heads. Rivet hissed in discomfort as droplets of icy cold water fell on her ears. Undaunted, Tanya pushed on, leading them deeper withing the structure and up a flight a stair.
Finally, the Markazian came to a stop before a set of old mahogany doors, rotting at the hinges. The resistance fighters just outside, Markazians wearing full body-armour of intertwined raritanium filaments, pushed the door open for them. Rivet blinked to adjust to the sudden light inside, only for her eyes to widen as she registered her surroundings.
An ancient ballroom had been refurbished with rows upon rows of chairs, all directed towards a raised podium in the middle. Dozens of Markazians crowded the space before her, their voices coming out as an indistinct cacophony of senseless sounds. The discussion appeared to be rather heated at the moment.
Rivet had learned quite a few things during her brief yet intense stay on the planet. Chief amongst them was the realization that there was no such thing as a proper Markazian resistance.
Indeed, it was more akin to a loose alliance of multiple different groups that had all agreed that Nefarious had to go, and that was the only point they had in common. And never was that more evident than today. Markazians wearing more official-looking military fatigues – the survivors of the first war against the Emperor that had continued fighting – were in the middle of a shouting match with others with a more loose dressing code. A few survivors of the old political bodies were there as well, distinguishable by their clean yet worn suits; they were those shouting louder than the others.
Then, without prior warning, the voices began dying down; slowly at first but then quickly picking up pace, until Rivet's ears could no longer pick up any sound. It wasn't hard to understand the reason of that; every single Markazian present in the room had turned his or her attention towards the door, specifically towards Rivet.
They stared at her with a combination of surprise, mute astonishment, and even outright awe in some cases.
"Ah, Kit?" she hissed under her breath.
"Yes?"
"Mind giving me some help here?"
The small bot on her back frowned. "I do not have much experience in this kind of things, but I think you should try and say something."
"Oh, that's just fantastic." She turned back to the impromptu audience with an awkward smile.
"Okay, sooo …" Rivet cleared her throat, fidgeting nervously with her artificial hand. She tried to ignore the rising heat on her face. Speaking in public was not one of her strengths.
"How … how are you all doing?" Her mouth widened in the most confident smile she could muster. She had the distinct impression that somebody had let out a chuckle from somewhere in the back. Then, out of nowhere, she felt Tanya giving her a powerful pat on the shoulder.
"Well, what are those faces?" the Markazian said, a frown on her face. "Is that how you greet the hero that took out the Emperor? Come on, people, give her an applause at least."
"Well, actually, I don't-" Rivet tried to interject, but it was too late. The room exploded into a thunderous applause right there; before she had the time to react, Rivet found herself surrounded by cheering Markazians on all sides, applauding, chanting her name, even trying to shake her hand.
The Lombax froze on the spot, unable to move and her tail going rigid, as the faces surrounding her moved like a blur. She became suddenly aware of the sweat running down her face as she tried and maintain a confident smile. The sounds reaching her hears were an indistinguishable cacophony, slamming like crashing waves against her, threatening to overwhelm Rivet at any moment.
"Alright, alright, I get it! Now, get out of my way the lot of you!" A thunderous voice broke through the others for a faint moment, and Rivet's mind only partially registered someone grabbing by her hand and leading her away.
"Yes, that's right. Show's over. Give the girl some breathing room, you creeps!" Clatchky snapped in fury as she led her out of the press. She whirled on a Markazian fighter trying to get an autograph from her, seizing him in a cold stare. "Want to get your ass kicked, boy? I said get the fuck out of my way!" To his credit, he quickly took the hint.
Clatchky led her toward a part of the hall where the rest of her friends were gathered. Phantom was there as well, looking up from the small console on his arm he had been fumbling with, shooting her a wide grin before the two of them bumped fist together.
"Enjoyed the welcoming party?" Phantom commented, to which Rivet replied with a simple shook of her head and a grin. That same smile however disappeared as her eyes fell on the rest of Clatchky's group of resistance fighters. They had arrived on Markazia two weeks prior with twenty operatives; now, only ten remained, including the three of them.
'Dear Zonies, it has been just two weeks!'
Clatchky must have realized what she was looking at, for Rivet heard a soft, tired sigh coming his way. "Yeah, I know. We did get kinda trashed around in the last few days. We tried to do some reconnaissance past Imperial lines, but it did not went very well." He fell silent, shooting a glance at Phantom. The Rilgarian's face darkened.
"Got ambushed on the way. Damn pricks came out of nowhere and got the jump on us," he hissed in frustration.
"Imperial warbots?" Phantom shook his head though.
"Nah, these guys were good, they actually knew what they were doing. Mercenaries, maybe? Big Nef did use to hire them once in a while. Never seen them around up until now though."
Rivet frowned, his artificial hand tightening into a fist. "Why didn't you warn me? I could have helped!"
Phantom shook his head, but before he could answer a soft piercing whistle echoed through the room. A Markazian woman stepped up onto the podium, her back stiff as she wore a navy-blue military dress. She tapped a couple of times on the microphone attached to her ear.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. We are about to begin," she began curtly, yet her tone was sharp with a blade. She waited just long enough so that everybody could reach their seat.
"Most of you know me already," she spoke, walking slowly along the podium, hands behind her back. "For those who don't, I'm Colonel Cora Veralux, the commanding officer of what remains of the Markazian Armed Forces. As decided by the Committee of Liberation, I'll be supervising the military operation that will commence in twenty-four hours." She paused just enough to let the information sink in.
"I'll be frank with you, the fact that we're moving to the liberation of Kalithar is no secret. We know it, the Imperials know it, so they'll see us coming from a mile away. The city's defence matrix was damaged in the initial uprising, but a good chunk of the automated defences is still active. Our job will be to batter down that reinforced door so to gain a foothold."
Another pause, except this one was fairly longer as Cora turned her stern eyes upon the crowd.
"That is why we'll need to employ every dirty trick in the book. We won't be getting a second chance before winter sets in, and our forces are not ready for months of gruelling siege. As such, we are going to cheat our way in." She glanced to the side. "Professor, if you don't mind?"
Rivet's eyes widened slightly as Maximilian Apogee climbed upon the podium with a nervous smile. He carried something beneath his arm, though Rivet couldn't make it out from where she was.
The professor's eyes flicked across the waiting crowd, taking note of the whispering spreading through it. Surely, most were surprised to see an academic in the middle of a military briefing. He took a moment to adjust the glasses perched up on his nose.
"A good evening to you all," he said. "Before beginning, I would like to extend my thanks to all those that have made the project possible, such as the Druzin University's department of Advanced Technologies, the department of Quantum Physics, the department of Applied Industrial Engineering. Oh, and of course, I cannot forget-"
"Professor," Cora warned him, "I said to make it short."
"Uh? Oh, right. Terribly sorry, I'm just very excited." He placed something down onto the podium and, after he removed a small remote from his pocket, activated it. The holo-projector flared to life, the blue hue filling the room as various pictures and schematics hung high above. A few Markazians in the room gasped in surprise.
Squinting, Rivet tried to make out what was written there, but to no avail. It looked like incomprehensible gibberish to her. Kit, on the other hand, could read it quite well.
"Oh. Oh no. No no no no no-" Rivet heard her friend mutter, a panicked pitch in her voice. She was about to ask what had gotten to her when Max resumed his speech.
"In recent years, despite considerable risk to my own safety, I managed to smuggle myself past Imperial patrol and onto planet Savali. There, I could study the ancient Lombax ruins, as well as taking my time in consulting the Dimensional Archives. And it was during one of these expeditions, after painstakingly translating the Lombax inscriptions present there, that I came upon a most curious discovery."
"Uh, Kit? Is he saying the truth? Was he really on Sa-"
"Yes." There was a note of realization in her mechanical voice. "Yes, I remember him. He showed up a few times to speak with Gary and the monks. I paid little attention at the time, but ... " She shook her head. "I should have realized it sooner. Rivet, this is my fault!"
"Your fault? Kit, what are you talking about?"
"Rivet, it's-"
"The dimensionator," Maximilian spoke up. "An incredible device capable of opening paths towards other dimensions, as the name implies. I'm sure many of you remember it when it was first employed by the Emperor to hunt down the most prominent members of the resistance. The fact that he didn't go looking for the leaders of the Markazian resistance, well, I can only assume it was because he really didn't know where to start." There was raucous laughter in the room. Even Cora allowed herself a small smile some distance away.
"Another capability such device possesses, however, is to open rifts between different points on the same dimensional plane. More plainly, it can act as a teleporter of sort, one nearly impossible to detect or jam."
Maximilian was grinning now, seemingly proud of the accomplishment. "One of the most worrying bottlenecks, however, was the lack of Blizon crystals, especially after the loss of Blizar Prime. We were in luck though; thanks to the Rebel Lombax and her efforts, the planet has been restored intact. One of our commando teams raided the still empty mines and gathered all the examples present. I'm proud to announce the device we've built is now functioning correctly."
Rivet ignored the nods and approving glances coming her way from the Markazians present. Her mind was too busy trying to come to term on what she had just heard. Asking the fixer to bring back Blizar Prime had seemed like a good idea at the time; it was the right thing to do. Yet, those very crystals were a valuable commodity across the galaxy, with hundreds of different applications.
A chill run down her spine. What if somebody else tried and take advantage of that? The mining crews had not yet gone back, and those crystals could be a dangerous threat in the wrong hands.
'Dammit, why didn't I think that one through?'
"Now, what me and my colleagues managed to accomplish is, admittedly, a very crude and imperfect version of the original. Sadly, we don't have Lombax's knack for technology, so we had to improvise. As you can see," he gestured to one of the projected slides in particular, "the device is not portable, and extremely short ranged at five kilometres. That means it will have to be moved around through other means."
"There are of course a few imperfections that will need time to be ironed out-"
"Thank you, professor," Cora promptly cut him off. "Unfortunately, we don't have the time, so we'll need to make do with what we have."
"Uh, actually, if I may-" he tried to interject, but to no avail. Cora continued speaking as if he wasn't even there.
"The plan we have devised is simple. We'll use the cover of the ongoing assault to sneak the newly built dimensionator as close as possible to the imperial lines. With the device acting as a teleporter, my 12th Armoured Brigade will launch an assault against the rear of the Imperial forces and cut open a considerable hole in their defensive line. After that, it's the usual; we roll up the defenders that still stand and cut them to pieces."
Rivet had to bite her own lip to not snap right there. That was insanity! They were really planning on using another dimensionator, one that been basically been built in a garage. Wasn't one dimensional cataclysm enough? Were they seriously willing to risk another one and bring it into a warzone? What would happen if it malfunctioned? Or even worse, if it was hit in the fighting?
The Lombax tightened her artificial hand. She couldn't remain silent, she had to say something.
"And finally, there's the last point. The Emperor's Assistant, to be precise." The holo-projector ceased functioning for a brief moment as all other pictures disappeared. They were all replaced by a single one; one capable of making Rivet's blood boil the moment she laid her eyes on it.
"ALC-856, or more simply the Assistant, is the only thing keeping together what remains of Nefarious's Empire. Our scouts have confirmed that she's in the Palace of the Legislature and has turned that place into her fortified headquarter." Cora frowned, eyes glinting as she addressed the crowd.
"I don't care if dead or alive; we get her and we break the Imperial resistance on the planet, as well as making sure of cutting the head of the snake for good. Permanently."
There were nods of agreements all around.
"Any questions?" There were none. Everybody understood what was at stake. "Very well, then. We are done here. Get some rest while you can, cause tomorrow will be akin to plunging straight into an Agorian Battleplex. Dismissed."
All around, Markazians rose from their seats and began filtering out of the room. Some spoke in hushed yet excited tones amongst themselves, but others left in silent. There was a sparkling electricity in the air, a tension ready to be unleashed.
Rivet however did not join his friends as they exited from the room. Instead, she and Kit went pretty much in the opposite direction, towards the podium.
"Excuse me?"
Cora looked up from the data-pad she was examining. One of her eyebrows went up upon realizing who was before her.
"Well, if it isn't the 'Rebel Lombax' everybody has been pestering me about." The corner of her lips went up. "I've got to admit, though. Hearing how every single of my subordinates was talking about you, I expected you to be a little taller."
Rivet blinked. "Uh … okaaay. Sorry for, uh, your expectations, ma'am? I can call you ma'am, right? Good. Now, I wanted to have a few words with you regarding the upcoming operation."
Cora let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Ah, yes. Should have guessed it. You want to volunteer, don't you?"
"I … wait, I can?"
She shrugged. "The way I see it, I need all the help I can get. And I'm sure a lot our troops would feel better knowing that you're there with them. It's not every day that they get to fight with the gal that knocked off the bloody Emperor."
"Miss Veralux?" Kit suddenly spoke up. Rivet almost failed to realize that the little bot had climbed down from her back. She was now standing before the two of them, her eye-lenses narrowed and her face set into something Rivet had never seen up until that point.
Kit was angry.
"Do you realize the danger of your actions? Can you even begin to phantom the peril we are all currently in because of you? An actual dimensionator!" She whirled around, her furious gaze settling on Maximilian, who had been up until then busy gathering his things. "And you! Gary and the monks welcomed you, and this is how you repay them? By using the knowledge gifted to you to do … this?"
"Whoa, easy with the finger-pointing, miss!" Max exclaimed. "It was not my idea to deploy it immediately. I wanted to keep on studying it; you know, test its limit, see what other applications could be developed, until we knew it could be safely operated. How could I know th-"
The rest was lost on Rivet. The bickering coming from nearby seemed suddenly unimportant. She glanced up, where a hologram of the Assistant had been left playing. Boiling rage filled her with each passing moment, her mouth twisting slowly into a furious snarl. The Assistant was exactly as she remembered her, her oblivious pink and white colour scheme sending an instantaneous jolt of fury through her. Her lips peeled and ears pinned back, Rivet could feel the growl beginning to build in the back of her throat.
'You're not escaping this time. I don't care what it takes, I'm not letting you escape. This is a promise.'
"We are in."
The discussion grinded to a halt right there, everybody glancing at the Lombax for different reasons. Cora doing so with a satisfied grin; Max with a curious frown; and Kit with her mouth agape in horror.
"Rivet," the small bot began, "You … you can't be serious."
The Lombax shook her head. "This is the only way we have to finally catch her. We cannot let her escape."
"And does that excuse employing a makeshift dimensionator to achieve this goal? Have you thought about the consequences?"
"We don't have a choice!" Rivet snapped. "We need to stop her-"
"Doing what?" Kit countered. "Nefarious's Empire is over. There's nothing else she can do. So why are you so single-mindedly focused on catching her?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Yes, it does!" Kit shook her head, taking a few moments to recover her cool. "Rivet, this … this obsession is not healthy. I've seen what it's doing to you, all the time you've spent fighting with the Markazians. I've seen the sheer exhaustion in your eyes when you returned in our billet late at night, only to wake up the next morning and start it all over again!"
"Not healthy?" Rivet growled, causing Kit to take a sudden step back. "You want to know what really isn't healthy, Kit?" She raised her mechanical arm slowly, taking her time flexing her artificial fingers one after the other. The last days of fighting had left a few bumps and cuts across the metal surface, giving it a scarred appearance.
"Waking up in the middle of the night due to flaring pain, knowing that you can't do anything because there's nothing there."
"Rivet …"
"And yet it burns and burns, sometimes for hours. The only thing that remains for you to do is clench your teeth, shut your eyes and hope that eventually it will go away. Or just try and sleep as little as possible and pray you don't get another episode. And sometimes it works."
She lowered her arm back down, though the scowl on her face did not abate. Kit, on other hand, turned her eye-lenses away, unable to meet her eyes as she fidgeted nervously at her hands.
Some distance away, Cora Veralux cleared her throat loudly. "I'm not sure exactly what you two are going about, but I've got to marshal my guys and prepare for tomorrow, so I'll be short." She straightened her uniform with the palm of her hand, her tail twitching slightly behind.
"I was not joking five minutes ago. Tomorrow will be hell on earth, and believe me, I know a few things about that. We're about to charge straight into a prepared line of automated defences that managed to hold off the Emperor's Army for almost six months. And we're trying to breach it in forty-eight hours."
"So, tell me, Lombax; you sure you are with us for this one?"
Rivet shot one last look in Kit's direction before nodding firmly, her eyes hardening in determination. "Yes. I'm with you. The only thing I ask thought is one clear shot at the Assistant. That's all."
Cora chuckled. "I can't guarantee you that, but if the chance happens, you'll hear no complaint from me." Rivet nodded in response.
"Good enough then. Kit, are you com-"
"No."
Rivet raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Kit said, her tone quiet. "My answer is no. I will not follow you along for this one. I'm ready to offer you my help should you need it, but I will not enable you in any of this." She was looking up now, her previous timidity gone, replaced by a set of eye-lenses narrowed in determination.
"I've hurt you once already, Rivet. I've mutilated you and forced you to make do with an artificial replica. I'll never be able to give that back to you, and for that I'm sorry. But this is why you cannot ask me to hurt you a second time. I'll be by your side if you need me, but not in this. Please, Rivet, I ask you to reconsider it, to think why you are doing it."
Rivet remained silent. The previous scowl, all that anger had now evaporated, replace by a neutral, detached expression. A small tingle run through her fingers, until she managed to bring it under control through sheer will. Her eyes glanced at the hologram once last time before settling on Kit.
"Suit yourself, then."
The Lombax left without another word, the sound of her boots on the tiled floor becoming fainter and fainter with each step. Nobody noticed her glinting eyes, nor the tears streaming down her cheeks.