The guard waited on the platform. It was a dull duty, far below the surface, but it was his duty. Each served the Hierarchy in their own way, and this was to be his.
Yet his sensor-stalks shifted slightly with unease, clacking against the armor atop his head. There were too many guards posted out here, far on the perimeter around the crashed ship-fragment believed to date from the hated Soia. He had contacted the other hardtroops to arrange patrol patterns, and counted them. Precious few were on duty protecting the teams inside the ancient fragment.
The thought bothered him. He and his brothers had been made to protect the weaker members of the Hierarchy. It was why he had been given the form he had. The armor which was his carapace, the cameras which were his eyes, the heavy kinetic cannon that was his right arm.
But how was he supposed to carry out his duty if too few of his brothers were present to protect the vulnerable excavation teams? He had reviewed the footage of the aliens discovered elsewhere on this Ring, passed along by the surviving Hal-tik who had been carried along on the ancient Soia structure when it inexplicably traveled such a great distance to this system.
If more of the dangerous creatures revealed themselves aboard this new remnant of the reviled Soia, many of the workers may be cut down before his own brothers could move to suppress the attackers! The thought weighed heavily on his mind, and on that of many of his brothers.
But a treasonous corner of his mind hoped that such combat would emerge. His ship had been on bivouac duty since he was created, and he had not so much as seen a single one of the hated alien threats to the Hierarchy. Not even one of their ships. Oh, to finally sight one of those wretched enemies, to fulfill his purpose and protect his brothers as he was built to do!
A sensor ping interrupted his thoughts, and the hardtroop paused in his patrol. His head turned back and forth, sensor stalks splaying wide in an attempt to triangulate the sound. This far down inside the Soia structure, there were frequent unexplained noises; one of the worker-forms had explained that it was likely maintenance systems running periodically.
But this was different. Rushing air, warbling slightly in pitch. Coming from—
He stepped towards the edge of the platform, towards the great yawning vertical tunnel beyond.
And froze, as a flying vehicle lifted into sight.
His targeting subroutines flashed immediately through their identification checks.
[Vehicle] was not of the Hierarchy. [Vehicle] was not of a Hierarchy subordinate assembly. [Vehicle] was not of the Great Enemy. [Vehicle] did not match any known standard pattern of assembly.
[Vehicle] was unknown.
No visual identification-marks. His primary camera zeroed in on what appeared to be a piloting-center. The light overhead reflected off of what was apparently a form of glass, rendering it opaque.
He cycled through his secondary cameras, switching through optical frequencies until one finally pierced the glare and let him see through.
[ENEMY DETECTED!]
Fast as thought, he snapped off a message to his brothers patrolling nearby even as he brought his cannon online, raising it towards the now-identified craft. If it carried one of the Great Enemy, then it was an Enemy craft!
His communications subroutines barely had time to process that their message did not receive a confirmation signal before a storm of 70mm shells tore him apart.
"And pop goes the weasel. Good shooting, Talon."
She nodded — it had been very satisfying to see the hardtroop fly apart like that. The other two on the platform followed only solon later.
"EWAR jammed the alert that the Bug sent out." added Wise from his post in the corridor behind them. "Looks like you were just a little bit slow on the draw there, Annie Oakley."
"What is a—?" Talon began.
"Tell you later. At least you have an excuse not to know."
Shaking his head, Alex keyed the mic as the Seagull spun around to back the craft over the platform. "This is the closest access point to the detonation location. Setting her down, now." The dropship eased down onto its landing legs, and Alex ran one finger along the controls.
"Understood, Fireball. We'll take it from here."
Fireblade was among the last to exit from the dropship, helping the other loroi of the ground team to move the alien bomb out after them. On its heavy-lift platform the device floated along easily enough, but its sheer mass made it unwieldy to handle without telekinetic assistance.
Mallas Deepline nodded to the human Colonel. "We are ready to proceed." If her being placed under the command of an alien bothered the Imperial Guard officer, it didn't come across in her voice. Or her mind-signature.
As expected, from one of that disciplined cadre.
"Understood." replied the human leader, before nodding to two of his own warriors. The pair loomed over their fellow aliens, easily head-and-shoulders taller than anyone else in the party. "Master Chief, Senior Chief. You two take point. No noise, no prisoners. We'll move up the bomb behind you, all the way to the target zone."
The two warriors nodded silently, before turning and walking quickly towards the door leading away from this vast chamber. For being such tall aliens and wearing such bulky armor, they were surprisingly quiet.
And they had been silent during the entire flight over, too. A pleasant change from the rest of their species, who were much too prone to verbal chatter for Fireblade's preference.
That said, she didn't appreciate having to walk behind alien warriors. Not when there were Shells to kill. Admittedly, with the sanzai-blocking metal that the Soia had built this entire structure from, the teidar would be limited to line-of-sight only, but that would still be enough for them to clear the path of any patrolling Shells. What could these aliens do that her caste-sisters could not?
Right before her eyes, the two bulky-armored aliens vanished from sight. If she strained her vision, she could pick out a slight disturbance in the air, an oily sort of distortion that continued its motion towards the door.
...So they could do one thing that a teidar could not.
She wanted armor like that.
The rest of the group followed behind the invisible warriors. Tempo sent an impression of the arm-cannon — what was left of it — that had been wielded by the first destroyed hardtroop. {This one was armed with a physical-projectile weapon instead of a blaster cannon. These hardtroops are planetary-garrison forces, not shipborne troops.}
Mallas Deepline acknowledged. {Which indicates that either the Shells have already begun to move dedicated forces onto the Ring in large numbers rather than rely on marines from nearby ships, or a Hierarchy troop-transport force happened to be passing through the system when the Ring transited here.}
Either way, it heralded more difficulty for their mission.
Padding silently through ancient corridors past large open chambers and narrow corridors, Fireblade could not entirely suppress the feeling of awe at her surroundings. She had, like all other teidar cadets, visited the ancient ruins on neighboring Mezan. Had marveled at the ancient structures, felt the surge of pride as her instructor described how the Loroi had the right — had the duty! — to retake their ancestor's place astride the galaxy.
But those had been ruins. This… 'space station' was still operational. The machinery hummed softly as the group passed it by, still serving some unknown purpose even after hundreds of thousands of years.
She could not tell if the complete silence of the other warriors — both loroi and alien — was evidence that they too felt the same awe, or simply a mark of their veteran status.
Although evidently, the two invisible special-forces warriors were at least not too distracted. The seven dead hardtroops that the group passed were evidence enough of that: empty husks lying in a pile on the floor, each with a single hand-width hole in their thorax leaking cerebral-suspension fluid.
{Pallan Fireblade,} sent Mallas Deepline as she eyed one of the fallen enemies in passing, {have you instructed the humans on where to strike hardtroops with such precision?}
{Negative, Teidar Mallas.} she replied. {They seem to have discovered such on their own.}
And it was an impressive display of accuracy. Fireblade herself preferred to use more… 'visceral' attacks against the hated Enemy, but that was in large part because of her imprecise control over her powers. Every teidar, herself included, had trained on how to dispatch any enemy most rapidly. Telekinetic usage might not exhaust the user, but when fighting against a Shell hardtroop and its cybernetically-enhanced reaction speeds, every fraction of a solon counted.
Fireblade added with grudging admiration {They have placed their shots perfectly into each hardtroop's brain-core.} Which gave the enemy a quicker death than they deserved, but at least prevented them from raising an alarm. That said, the fact that the humans had known where to strike implied that their armor suits must have some form of sensor suite beyond what most warriors carried.
{Not 'shots.'} Mallas Deepline commented cryptically, her side-channels muted. {Look more closely.}
With a frown, Fireblade examined the next hardtroop as she stepped over its slumped body. One hole bored deep into its body, just like the others.
But at the same time unlike the hardtroops which she had seen engaged by human small-arms fire so many nanapi ago aboard this very Ring. Those energy bolts had melted their way into the target; here a hole had been…
{Punched.} Deepline sent.
Fireblade blinked, looking up at the Mallas's back as the senior teidar continued down the corridor. {It… yes.} She knelt, holding one hand next to the gaping hole in the hardtroop half again as wide as her own balled fist. No energy burns, no marks other than the bent-inwards armored exoskeleton.
She stood, glancing around her as the rest of the team stepped past. What were those special-armored human warriors?
Colonel Jardin stepped up next to her, making room for his team of Helljumpers to escort the bomb past the two of them. He caught her eye, and dropped his gaze briefly to the dead hardtroop at her feet. "Spartans being efficient as always."
One of his people muttered in passing "[Spartans showing off; what else is new?]"
That gave a name — apparently — to these strange warriors. 'Spartans.' Perhaps an alien attempt to approach the power of a trained teidar? Or rather, one of the Soia's Guards.
{That is my assumption.} Tempo sent, waiting at the bend in the corridor, eyes on Fireblade. {And if they are warriors specially-trained to fight Guards, it was perhaps wise of the Colonel to send them ahead of our formation. They are likely to be… uncomfortable around teidar or other loroi wearing amplifiers.}
Fireblade shrugged, as she quickened her pace to catch up with the rest of the Union loroi in the middle of the group's rough formation. {They seemed to have any such discomfort under control during the flight over. It is not our problem.}
{Not for now, no.} Tempo replied.
The group passed through another door… and into a howling snowstorm. A bridge of smooth, exposed Soia-metal stretched out ahead, disappearing into flurries of flakes blowing almost horizontally.
"[Great, the Soia built a 'Michigan' section on their damn Ring." grumbled one of the Helljumpers. "[I might as well have never left home.]"
Thankful for the warmth of her undersuit, Fireblade followed the other Teidar out onto the bridge. Even now with her senses unconstrained by being inside an underground structure of Soia metal, the sheer lack of any signatures other than her fellow loroi around her was… eerie. Even the humans were still undetectable; apparently each of them had one of those lotai-implants. But why did they have them activated? The Shells didn't—
Mallas Deepline froze mid-step, dropping to one knee and staring up at the white-dashed sky overhead. Her right arm shot out to the side, flashing through a series of gestures. It took a moment for Fireblade to recognize Teidar command-gestures — she hadn't seen them used since her academy days on Deinar!
||Hostile mind-presence. Cease sanzai. Contact-transmission only.||
Fireblade's pulse jumped even as she clamped down on her subconscious sanzai. Such a command was only given when there was a hostile sanzai-user nearby. But who!?
Tempo also froze, helmet staring towards Deepline's signals. It didn't exactly surprise Fireblade that the mizol knew the command-gestures. Beryl took another step, unaware until Tempo's hand snatched at the listel's shoulder and pulled her to a halt.
Fireblade could not detect any hint of the flurry of contact-sanzai that must have raced between the two of them… good.
Deepline glanced back over her shoulder, waving Tempo forward to her. In turn, Tempo gestured for Fireblade to follow.
Both of them rested one hand on the Mallas's back between armor plates, the close contact — even with the underlayer — allowing for nigh-undetectable sanzai. {Mizol Parat, I have detected a distant mind-signature… overhead. It is distant, but strong.} Deepline pointed off into the sky.
Fireblade focuses her senses in that direction. For several solon, nothing. Then—
She blinked. That was indeed a strong mind, to be so visible at such a range. She could only sense it very faintly; Deepline must be very well-trained to have noticed such a signature.
{It is not loroi.} noted Deepline.
{Troubling.} sent Tempo.
"What is it?" Colonel Jardin loomed over the three loroi, one hand resting on the alien carbine slung across his chest. Behind him, the rest of the human warriors could be seen kneeling at the side of the bridge, weapons up and scanning the impenetrable snow-haze. They might not understand Deepline's hand-gestures, but experienced warriors would recognize something unexpected.
"You might know as well as us." Tempo responded. "Mallas Deepline has detected a mind-signature. Powerful, loroi-like but not loroi."
He turned to look in the direction that the lead teidar had pointed to, but presumably could not see any better through the driving snow than the loroi could.
Fireblade felt Deepline concentrate, a solon before the Mallas punched a flat disk of air forward, momentarily thinning the hazy snow in a tunnel leading up into the sky.
For no more than a beat or two, all on the bridge who looked up could see the colossal wreckage of that Soia ship where it lay draped across the Ring, stretching overhead in an arc and disappearing over the mountainous horizon.
"[Damn. Looks like Tempest missed one.]" the Colonel whispered, voice barely audible over the wind. Louder, he continued in a slow drawl "It can only be one thing: a living Soia."
The group redoubled their speed, moving as quickly as the cargo platform that carried the bomb could go. Human and loroi alike threw periodic uneasy glances overhead, moving from shadow to shadow as they followed the Colonel's path to their destination while trying to keep out-of-sight from what they now knew lurked overhead.
But it still didn't answer the question of how a Soia could still be alive. The Colonel had seemed so certain that Tempest had killed them all — at the cost of her own life — and yet it appeared that there was little else that this could be.
The gigantic chunk of crashed dreadstar was the most likely culprit. Perhaps one of the Soia who had confronted Tempest aboard it had managed to escape her wrath and survive whatever final catastrophe had shattered the vessel?
It made the presence of so many Shell vessels nearby all the more unnerving. The Enemy were dangerous enough on their own; what could they learn if they had captured an actual Soia?
Fireblade jogged alongside the bomb carrier, taking comfort from its lethal bulk. No matter what the Shells were up to, it would all become moot in only a few thousand solon.
...although that still didn't explain just where the Shells actually were. After the few dozen hardtroops patrolling the structure where the ground team had left the human dropship, no more of the Enemy had been sighted. Just empty canyons and howling wind.
Most strange.
"There's our target." Colonel Jardin announced as a final door slid open to reveal a massive, pyramidal structure.
"Subtle." Beryl commented, dry humor in her voice.
The human leader snorted. "The Soia weren't known for their humility. And they loved their architecture."
Or rather, they still did. At least for now.
It was somehow even more unsettling for there to be no enemies to fight as the group ascended the pyramid, level-by-level. Nearly twenty warriors, weapons at hand, constantly scanning the perimeter yet finding nothing.
Halfway up, Mallas Deepline paused for a moment. She craned her neck back, helmet visor staring now almost straight-up. {The 'Soia' mind-signature just disappeared. Can any of you detect it?}
A beat later, and the other Union loroi in the party chorused their negative responses. Fireblade focused as best she could on the driving snow above, but indeed could not sense even a hint of the alien presence that she had earlier seen.
"Colonel, the Soia is no longer detectable." Tempo relayed. "What could this mean?"
"Nothing good, we can assume." The party rounded a corner in the zig-zagging ramp which led to the top of the pyramidal structure. "If we're incredibly lucky, the Shells just killed her in a fight. Otherwise, she's hiding her signature... which implies she thinks there's other sanzai-users around."
They redoubled their pace, teidar taking turns to telekinetically shove the heavy bomb faster up the slope.
The doors at the top of the building — if 'door' was enough of a descriptor for the massive slabs of Soia metal, easily large enough to fly a large shuttle or small pinnace through — slid aside. A long corridor, just as oversized, stretched beyond. And behind those distant doors…
"This is it. The Ring's Command Center." Colonel Jardin explained.
Few paid much attention to him; instead, all eyes drank in the chamber large enough to house a frigate, holographic projections of the Ring and nearby planets looming overhead.
The humans and the Legion loroi recovered first, pressing onwards towards the center. Perhaps they had seen functioning — no, intact! — Soia machinery before. But the Union warriors took a few solon longer to follow their allies.
"It is amazing..." breathed Beryl, turning this way and that, drinking in the sight. "To know that this was built so long ago, before any of the Sister Worlds were even settled! It is a truly majestic sight."
"And we're going to blow it all up." deadpanned one of the three Legion loroi. The first words that Fireblade had heard from the otherwise-silent trio during the entire mission.
Fireblade caught the slight twitch of her close friend at those words, and rested one hand on Beryl's shoulder. In tight, short-range sanzai, she sent {It has to be done.}
{I know. But I do not like it. Such an ancient relic, such knowledge, gone forever.}
{We still have the two Legion dreadstars.}
Beryl's muted signature glowed dully with humor, despite the situation. {That is perhaps something of a consolation.} She turned her helmet, smiling thinly at Fireblade.
With one last squeeze of her hand, the teidar stood back as Colonel Jardin joined the group of Union loroi. "My people have the bomb in position." Indeed, a few paces behind him the human warriors could be seen arranging the bomb so that it rested on the lip of the platform, poised to plummet into the unknown depths below. "That's now our backup plan."
"Then what is your new primary goal?" asked Tempo.
"If one Soia survived, others might have as well. And as long as any of them draw breath, we're not safe. Not the Legions, not the UNSC… not the Union. I've got my people working on a new plan."
A flash of movement caught Fireblade's eye, as one of the human special-warriors emerged from invisibility standing next to the mostly-holographic console at the end of the platform. The Helljumpers nearby flinched away: apparently such invisibility was as unnerving to them as it was to the loroi. The alien reached up to the back of their neck and then extended the same hand to the console.
"What do you request from us?" Tempo said, right arm on one hip and left foot extended. Fireblade knew that stance, and the unease which must be flowing through the mizol's mind for her to slip into it unconsciously as she often did under such circumstances.
A blade-duelist's stance, reflexively trained from Tempo's own days at the mizol academy as she had told to Fireblade many years ago. It had… not been surprising to learn that mizol were trained to win the sort of duels — both formal and informal — which their caste's actions tended to generate.
"For now? Stay here, guard the bomb. If all goes well, we will return."
'Return?' Fireblade furrowed her brow, even as a holographic image of a large human female grew into view above the ancient console.
"[Oh, how I've missed Soia systems! There's nothing like them.]"
Colonel Jardin turned around to face the human… artificial intelligence? But why would such a machine choose to adopt a human guise? "[Focus, Cortana. Can you reach into the—]"
Fireblade couldn't follow their language, but it certainly sounded like the AI interrupted even the senior human warrior.
"[Comms network? Already have. Fireball's on his way, flying treetop between the canyons. He says they won't see him, and I believe him.]" The human image glanced aside, cocking its hip and raising one hand to trace along invisible lines. Such mannerisms, from a machine? "[And what do we have here? Looks like the Soia forgot to firewall off their sensor networks from the comms.]"
"[Keep a low profile; we must not be detected.]"
The AI waved its hand dismissively. "[Relax, their brainless systems couldn't catch me back when my code-base was 100% UNSC. Legion upgrades and decades later, do you really think they have a chance now? Give me a second to access… yes, there's Bravo Five-oh-two. Took me almost three seconds to spot them, so the Bugs would need an hour. We'll be fine. And...]" the AI glanced aside, before its eyes widened in a clear simulacrum of shock. "[Oh. Oh no. Colonel, get your people hidden, now!]"
"[What is it?]" The Colonel's voice had jumped in volume, and all of the human warriors visibly gripped their weapons tighter and scanned around the room.
"[Alien dropship just took off from that moonship fragment and it's making a beeline for this location! Anyone want to take a bet just who is onboard, knowing our luck?]"
Jardin whirled, half-shouting to Tempo and Deepline "Back to the entrance corridor, at a run! There's a maintenance side-passage just past the inner door that turns off to the side; keep at least an arm's-length of Soia metal between you and the main corridor at all times! We've got a Soia incoming in-person, in just under—" he gestured to the projection behind him.
"Three-hundred solon!" finished the AI. "[Chief, yank me. I've covered my tracks in this system.]"
The large human warrior pulled something from the console, presumably an AI chip. Meanwhile, Jardin barked orders to the rest of his warriors "[Anders, you and the Senior Chief get that bomb over the side and down the chasm. Hold it steady when you're out-of-sight from up here, and drop it at my signal... or your discretion, if we are overrun.]"
The other invisible human warrior appeared next to the bomb, and worked with one of the Helljumpers to lift the bulky device off of its cart. Then, as if it were the most normal thing to do, they both stepped off of the side of the platform and plunged out of sight.
Fireblade took a step to the side, leaning over the edge of the platform. Two human warriors fell away into the distance, intermittently-flaring thruster plumes revealing their plan to do something other than plummet down forever. A controlled descent, then, if still a rapid one.
Crazy people, these aliens.
Her kind of crazy.
Sprinting to catch up with the rest of the loroi, Fireblade caught up with them just barely ahead of the humans. The group as a whole crowded into the narrow maintenance-tunnel that the Colonel had indicated would be there, and ducked around where it bent at a right-angle some ten mannal away from the main outer corridor.
"How much time remains?" Mallas Deepline asked, the situation evidently having escalated enough for the teidar to speak aloud directly rather than relay her questions through Tempo.
"One-hundred solon." came the AI's voice, but projected from the armored bulk of the 'Master Chief.' Unless the hulking warrior was only a mechanical body for the AI? "Assuming that that shuttle lands just outside at the top of the pyramid."
"But it is a Hierarchy shuttle?" asked Jardin. "Not Soia?"
"Yes. We're that lucky, at least. Whatever the Bugs found aboard that wreck, it might just be limited to a single Soia."
"[Here's hoping.]" Jardin said.
All went silent then, as the faintest of tremors could be felt underfoot.
"Right on time." the human AI muttered, before raising his voice to a hissed command. "Follow radio silence, no sound or emissions. Chief, we engage on your signal."
The Chief's hands flashed through a series of rapid alien hand-gestures, a solon before the warrior vanished from sight once more. Colonel Jardin carefully took his place, kneeling just on this side of the corner. With no door sealing off the maintenance tunnel, all could hear the clack-clack-clack of Shell footsteps, growing ever louder.
It had… been some time since she last had to sit still and listen to the hated Enemy, rather than destroy them as soon as she could pinpoint their location. Fireblade's hands twitched, and she balled them into fists to stop the reflexive action. To have the Shells so close at hand and yet have to wait…!
What was strange, though, was that they only heard the Enemy's footsteps. None of their harsh, grating speech; perhaps it was a force consisting solely of hardtroops? Nor could Fireblade sense any trace of the 'Soia's earlier mind-signature.
That was bad news: it implied that the enemy expected opposition here. Had the ground team been detected, somehow? If the enemy had already realized that their patrolling sentries underground were not reporting in, would they have assumed that the control center was the target?
Fireblade grimaced. Of course they would; the Shells were evil, not stupid.
But the Colonel had warned that a 'live Soia' may be coming; where was she?
Then suddenly, a voice spoke aloud— and Fireblade's stomach fell.
Tempo frowned, reflexively leaning forwards as if that would make the words make sense. In Spoken Trade — accented, but recognizable — a commanding voice which she would have sworn was loroi intoned "—uite the surprise, but a… pleasant one. Perhaps we were destined to meet again, here at the end."
The voice made her skin crawl — just that little bit deeper than a normal loroi's, and it… 'echoed' for lack of a better word. As if—
Her eyes shot wide open. As if the words were received by her mind via sanzai, even through what had to be several mannal of Soia metal in the walls!
Tempo double-checked that her own mind-signature was as suppressed as she could make it. That had never been one of her particular specialties among the mizol, but it was a skill which she had practiced. Thankfully. And if this Soia — for who else, what else could the voice be? — was strong enough to be received even through such disruption, then Tempo did not want to run any risk of detection.
A tap on her shoulder, and she turned.
Fireblade's piercing gaze tore into her own, the teidar's eyes wide-open. If Tempo hadn't known the veteran warrior better, she could have said that Fireblade looked… 'scared.'
The teidar quickly — but silently! — removed the armored covering of the tip of one finger from her left-hand gauntlet, gesturing for Tempo to do the same. A technique used by those loroi who had had to fight against others of their own kind, to communicate via sanzai through direct touch and thus absolutely undetectably.
{The voice!} Fireblade all but shouted, her sanzai strong enough that Tempo's head rocked backwards slightly out of instinct. {I recognize it!}
{What.} Tempo's mind responded on instinct before her thoughts could catch up.
{It is the Lenni of Leinnazalat! I would know it anywhere!} Fireblade's anguished sending was accompanied by memories… of what she had seen, what she had felt on Seren.
Tempo's blood froze. Of all the stories to come out of the Siege, Fall, and Liberation of Seren, one of the few still remembered — besides Fireblade the 'Semago' herself — was the 'Spy of Fire-city.' A mysterious loroi who had been reported — or at least her voice; none had set eyes on her and lived to tell the tale — by several of the survivors of the Shells' abominable testing facilities.
A loroi who had seemed to work alongside the Enemy.
Most all had assumed that it was a loroi who had shamefully chosen to work for the Shells to spare her cowardly life — the more extreme stories claimed that she may have done so even long before the fall of Seren — and that name stuck. None had ever seen her face, and many in the Union had wanted to dismiss such an utterly-unbelievable story, but seven surviving witnesses from three different facilities, each of whose memories matched those of the others, had forced the Union to accept that one of their people had indeed betrayed them to the worst Enemy which the loroi had yet faced. An unknown loroi whose appearance at one of those monstrous facilities had always preceded the more… vile experiments inflicted upon the prisoners there.
And now one of those survivors was staring Tempo in the face, her skin visibly paling by the solon. It was… unsettling to see the normally tough-as-armor teidar so obviously shaken.
{Then you will have vengeance for Seren.} Tempo sent, even as her mind whirled at the implications. If the Spy of Fire-city had not been a loroi, but a Soia… how had she come to be there, so many years before the discovery of this Ring? Had the Shells found the Ring and the crashed human transport so long ago, perhaps even before the beginning of the war? Then why was their lotai offensive so delayed, if they had had access to pilfered human and Soia artifacts for all this time?
None of it made any sense.
{I… yes.} Fireblade's mind stammered.
Without breaking skin contact, Tempo wrapped her hand around Fireblade's, pulling it into a tight grip. With all the certainty that she felt — and perhaps a bit more — she sent {You can. You will.} She squeezed her friend's hand, and after a solon felt a response. Soft at first, but then came the strength — of both body and mind — that she knew to be at Fireblade's core.
Tempo let go and moved past Fireblade, rolling her feet with each step and taking great care to make no sound whatsoever as she approached the Colonel. It had been some years since she had last put that particular aspect of her mizol training — and experience — to work, but it all came back to her now.
Setting one hand gently against the human leader's helmet, she set her own helmet against her hand and slowly established silent contact. "Colonel Jardin, Pallan Fireblade and I believe that this Soia is 'known' to the Union. As an enemy." The alien twitched under her hand, unsurprisingly. His eyes widened briefly, before a calculating look took over. "We will explain, once we understand how this has come to be. But I must ask that Fireblade and I move to see this Soia with our own eyes, immediately."
"I… see. We'll try to leave enough of her in one piece for you to look at after the shooting's done. But for now, follow me."
The three of them slowly made their way out of the corridor as stealthily as possible, half-crouched and with rank tabs dark, pausing every few solon to listen. Shell footsteps echoed off of the ancient walls, but much less loudly than they had earlier. The Enemy had passed them by and entered the inner room.
And all this time, the voice had continued.
"—magine my dismay, once these idiotic new servants finally crawled their way off of their homeworld and reported to me what they found in their searching through the stars. A galaxy lost and adrift without the Empire, chaos everywhere as a hundred unguided species sought to make their own blind way through the cosmos, bereft of guidance."
Tempo held her breath, ears straining to pick up a response. Who was the Soia speaking to? And why?
Only silence. And then the clacking speech of the Hierarchy. A hardtroop, by the pitch of it. Tempo's Ikkukhak wasn't the greatest, but she could follow enough of the report.
"|Room| is empty. Perimeter is established outside |the room in question|."
Was the Soia… talking to the Shells? It didn't seem to fit quite right.
"And then your traitor daughters appeared. Fallen back to near-barbarity, of course, given all this time without their betters. You will meet them soon enough, once they are brought to heel. Perhaps another decade, no more. It is a challenge to remove the enhancements which you so unwisely granted them, but I have found ways around that."
Tempo's blood froze in her veins. It... no. It couldn't be.
The trio reached the side of the grand doorway leading into the inner chamber, Jardin and Tempo exposing their helmets as little as possible to see around the corner.
Nearest to them, six hardtroops stood carrying a large metal box. The side facing Tempo was perhaps two mannal wide by one tall, and by the number of hardtroops holding it it must be twice that long. Another Umiak, a 'normal' one, stood dwarfed by the hardtroops as it tapped away on a holographic keyboard projecting from the side of the box.
And beyond them, a silhouette stood at the end of the projecting platform, backlit by the holographic gas giant.
A loroi-shaped silhouette… although standing half again as tall as the hardtroops waiting obediently in her shadow.
It struck Tempo that she was the first mizol to put eyes on the Spy of Fire-city. A figure that her entire caste had wanted to get their hands on, once they had decided that she was more than a mere figment of traumatized minds.
And she was a Soia.
Without turning, the Soia continued "And now they have delivered this Installation into my hands by their own actions! You see how they continue their self-destructive blind scrabbling? They truly do not know any better. But they will learn. I will add them to the grand symphony of a new Empire — My Empire — and this Ring shall be my Instrument."
...Was she talking to herself? The Shells weren't moving or otherwise reacting to her speech — although reading their body language was difficult even for a trained mizol — and there seemed to be nobody else present in the room. Facing towards the control console as she was, perhaps the Soia was addressing her speech to some entity contacted through that machine? A distant contact… or a Soia AI present in the system? Could the human AI have missed something like that?
There were far too many unknown variables to be certain of anything. And Tempo did not like any of the scenarios that she could imagine to explain the content of the Soia's monologue.
The Soia's head twitched, and both Tempo and the Colonel immediately ducked out of sight before she could turn around.
Tempo suppressed a flinch as she now came face-to-face with Mallas Deepline, crouched next to Fireblade. Behind the two teidar, the rest of the mixed Union-Legion-UNSC warrior band waited, all eyes on their leaders. They were quieter than she'd expected. Good.
Tempo grimaced. The humans evidently planned to attack the Soia directly, on a 'signal' from that invisible warrior of theirs somewhere else in the vast chamber. But this position was not suited for any sort of firefight: there was room for maybe three warriors to fire around the corner of the doorway, from a position with at least some cover.
But there was no other source of protection within many mannal of that position. How were they supposed to take out the six hardtroops nearest them, the eight others patrolling further away on the platform, and a Soia of all things!?
Tempo took a breath, inhaling the filtered air of her helmet. They would do this as Warriors of the Union. It was her duty, and she had faced harder fights before. And won each one.
She just didn't want to think of how many caste-sisters hadn't survived those fights.
Colonel Jardin was gesturing again, first rapidly to his own warriors, and then pointing at Mallas Deepline to get her attention. He pointed at her, then down at the ground. Himself, then two of his warriors, then the far side of the doorway.
Ah. Well, if the aliens were brave — or insane — enough to attempt to cross that open ground when the firefight began, then they were welcome to it.
He continued, tapping one finger against his chest, then the weapon slung across his chest. Then pointed the same finger at the wall towards the enemy, before spreading that hand into a flat palm held above his head, raising.
The alien repeated this strange sequence once more before Tempo understood. The humans would focus on engaging the Soia, leaving the hardtroops to the loroi.
And so they waited for whatever 'signal' the invisible human soldier would give to start the ambush. Solon trickled past, each one longer than the last.
Over the group radio channel, a single 'click' sounded, deafeningly loud in the absolute silence.
Bioplas undersuit material creaked slightly, as eight loroi helmets snapped to look at Colonel Jardin. Was that the—?
The human held up one hand, five fingers splayed wide. Then retracted one: four.
Three.
Deepline nodded, flashing her own signal to her caste-sisters. 'Attack imminent.'
Two.
One.
The human leader was the first around the corner, energy weapon blazing even as it rose from its sling position to the alien's shoulder.
Tempo was right behind him, laspistol lined up on the nearest hardtroop even before she rounded the corner.
Just as she did so, the Soia disappeared in a blinding flash of light, the afterimage of a bright-red energy beam as it lanced out from a point against the far wall burned into Tempo's retina.
Part of her mind rejoiced at the easy victory… but the twenty-five-year war veteran part of her mind overrode it. Few things were ever so easy in combat.
Her target hardtroop shattered under multiple maximum-power laser impacts, but the pistol in her hand beeped shrilly as it was forced into a cooling cycle. A downside of carrying the smaller weapon instead of the blaster carbines preferred by soroin and many teidar. The pistol would cool fast, but it still needed more than three solon to be ready again.
An eternity, in a gunfight.
But as calculated, the box carried by the hardtroops began to fall once deprived of one of its carriers.
Just as the near corner impacted the floor with a resounding clang, Deepline stepped up next to Tempo. The teidar flared her powers and the box slammed to the side, bowling over two more hardtroops.
Boots rang against plating behind Tempo as the human warriors sprinting past her, hurling blood-blue bolts of energy into anything that moved.
Yet even the sudden assault was not fast enough to down all of the hardtroops before the Enemy could get their bearings. Seven of their number had fallen — one to Tempo, two more pinned by the box, another trio telekinetically hurled off of the platform to fall to their deaths, and one last crumpled into a black-bleeding ball of twisted plating in what could only be Fireblade's work — but that was only half of the hardtroops in the room.
Quick as lightning, the surviving Hierarchy troops swiveled their torsos towards the loroi, lined up the mismatched array of weapons built into them, and opened fire.
A railgun round slammed into the doorframe an arm's length to Tempo's right, fragments whistling past her.
A blaster bolt soared overhead, close enough to spike the temperature in her helmet unpleasantly high.
And at her left, a sanzai cry of pain was quickly suppressed as one of the teidar ducked back into cover, clutching the explosively-truncated ruin of her left forearm.
Tempo glanced aside. Good — it was not Fireblade. Grimacing at the selfish thought, Tempo crouched aside to clear the firing line for those with working weapons.
One of the Legion warriors leaned over her, Dustfall Biriren Coldstream yanking the wounded teidar past her and shoving the Union loroi towards the human doranzer. "Healer, see to her." The grim-eyed biriren's own weapon roared back at the enemy, shadows dancing even against the brightly-lit walls of the Soia building.
The three human warriors, now halfway to the other side of the doorway, were the next to feel the Hierarchy's bite. A railgun round slammed low into one of them in an eye-searing flash of light, taking the alien's feet out from under him and knocking his helmet visor-first into the floor.
But the human still fought on, armor dented but unbroken as he rose to one knee and put two energy bolts into the hardtroop that had fired on him.
Those personal-scale energy shields of theirs would be very useful right now, Tempo thought with a twinge of jealousy. They made the hectic fight almost sa—
A green pulse of energy detonated against the same warrior's chestplate in a blinding explosion, and when Tempo blinked vision back into her eyes the human was ten paces backwards. Lying limp on his back, armor smoking.
Amidst the shattered hardtroops and scorch-marks burned into the floor plating, the Soia stood. Her robes swirled around her, smoking but otherwise unmarked by the human energy impact from earlier.
In her raised right hand she held a pistol of unknown design, barrel glowing dully. Without looking at the mixed human and loroi warriors, she spat "Enough of this farce. Your daughters come for you? Then let them piece you back together in what time they have left."
The Soia placed one booted foot against the upturned box in front of her, and pushed.
The container which had been clearly heavy enough — or perhaps just bulky? — to be barely carried by six hardtroops rolled and skittered across the floor… before disappearing over the side and plummeting out of sight.
Over the group radio channel, Colonel Jardin barked "[Senior chief, Anders! Catch that pod, leave the bomb!]" He sprinted past Tempo, weapon shouldered and trained on the Soia. Aloud, he growled "Surrender, Minister. This ends here."
For over a solon, there was silence. The Soia — the 'Minister'? — did not bother to look over her shoulder as the remaining hardtroops behind her fell to a final volley of loroi fire.
All weapons in the room now trained on one figure. One who stood tall surrounded by death, a sneer on her sharp-lined face as she stared down at the human leader.
Then "It does. But not for me." Swirls of golden light rose around her feet. Even as the rising motes began to shield her from view, her arm with the pistol snapped aside and fired.
But not at Jardin — a glowing bolt instead obliterated the control console at her side.
The humans fired on her immediately, cyan bolts slamming home into the Soia.
And the shots which obliterated hardtroops with ease simply disappeared into the flashing shield that surrounded the ancient being.
Loroi blaster-fire performed no better.
And—
{I cannot impact her telekinetically!} sent Mallas Deepline, naked shock leaking through the veteran teidar's sanzai. {It is as if she is not physically present!}
A bright flash of light, and the Soia disappeared.
Tempo frowned. The Soia had evidently been actually present — as the downed ODST could verify — but… 'immune' to telekinesis? Tempo would have said that it was impossible, but evidently not so for the Soia.
"That was a short-range teleport! No more than a kilometer." Colonel Jardin barked, pointing to his second-in-command. "Palmer, their dropship's outside. Take it out!" As the surviving human warriors of their group sprinted for the outside doorway, he turned back and ran to the side of the platform. "[Anders, status on the pod?]"
Another human replied "[Secure, sir. Little banged up, but it's still functioning.]"
"[Thank God.]" His shoulders slumped, and the human whirled to face Tempo. "The Soia's running. If she gets a message to those Bug ships overhead, we're in a world of trouble. Even if she doesn't, they're bound to figure out something's gone wrong soon enough. Get your people outside, we're evacuating as soon as we can."
His words were superfluous — the rest of the loroi besides Tempo had ran for the exit as soon as the Soia had disappeared, with the telekinetically-enhanced speed that only experienced teidar could muster.
But Tempo paused, eyes dropping to the floor plates… and to where that mysterious Soia box had disappeared. "What was in that container? Weapons? Data?"
"Not what. Who. It is a Soia medical-support pod."
And the human had evidently been very concerned for its safety, and the Soia had been talking as if to…
Tempo's eyes widened. No, it couldn't be—
"Go!" the alien ordered, as two human warriors ascended slowly from the abyss behind him, suit-thrusters flaring brightly as they struggled to lift the battered Soia 'pod.' "Fireball's on his way, we leave as soon as he gets here. Soia or no Soia."
Fireblade was only a few mannal behind the other teidar as they bolted out into the snowy landscape beyond the outer door. An accomplishment of which she was rather proud, given that the caste-sisters selected for the Azerein's Guard could each match her for sheer telekinetic strength — well, almost — and greatly exceeded her own precision of control over their powers.
And hurling one's own body forwards while sprinting, without falling even as one's feet bounded across the floor, was… 'challenging.'
But for all that, their only reward was to see the glaring thrusters of a Shell transport as it ascended into the sky. Already distant enough that it was impossible to accurately judge distance.
Not that that stopped the teidar from trying. Ten eyes stared skywards, each loroi straining to lay her powers accurately on target.
The dropship bobbed slightly, one engine briefly sputtering as some wisp of telekinetic force pulled at it. But the craft kept on, disappearing out of sight.
"Colonel Jardin. The enemy dropship has escaped." To her credit, Mallas Deepline's voice betrayed little of the sheer frustration that glowed around her mind-signature.
"[Damn.]" the human replied. Then, "Cortana, ETA on those Bug ships getting into weapons range?"
"The files the Union provided showed those vessels as armed primarily with plasma weapons. They will have to enter the atmosphere and close within several kilometers to have any effect with those… but their missile systems are another matter. And—" the machine gave a frustrated sigh. "I'm locked out of the wireless access points, and the console's been slagged. Without that, I don't have eyes on what those ships are doing right now. Best guess? If she started screaming bloody murder as soon as she got out to her ship, we have five minutes before they get a missile down here."
"That doesn't give us much time..." the human mused, before raising his voice. "Mallas Deepline, Biriren Coldstream, get your people and my Helljumpers back to the Seagull, as fast as you can manage. The Spartans and I will follow. If we're not there in four minutes... leave without us."
Fireblade frowned. The human leader and their two most-elite warriors were tarrying behind? Perhaps they needed the time to rig their bomb. She looked behind her, seeing the aliens kneeling by the side of that box the hardtroops had been carrying earlier.
The non-teidar warriors only now arrived at the entrance, understandably slowed by carrying their non-mobile wounded from the fight. The one human warrior who had gone down was slung across the shoulders of two of his comrades, their doranzer hurrying alongside and applying biofoam even as they moved. The wounded one's blackened and torn armor heaved with each labored breath.
By the crimson alien blood that spattered the inside of the warrior's visor with each wet cough, Fireblade wouldn't put his chances as too high. But then again, these aliens were full of surprises.
The group hurried down the ramps that they had ascended not too long ago, and Tempo ran up alongside Fireblade. The mizol's mind was shielded, her thoughts unusually obscured from her friend.
At Fireblade's wordless pulse of curiosity, Tempo merely shook her head. {A… thought of mine. A baseless hope, nothing more. I do not wish to give substance to it, lest it turn out to be in vain.}
It had been years since Tempo had been so closed to Fireblade, and she fought down the rising bubble of hurt at her friend's reticence. {As you wish. But—}
Her sanzai was interrupted as a loud crack echoed throughout the valley, slamming down from overhead. The party continued moving, but necks craned skywards to see a glowing streak race across the sky towards the dimming glow of the Shell dropship's engines.
A missile — but from whom?
Then another craft flew into view, climbing rapidly in the missile's wake.
With the Colonel out of radio contact thanks to interference from the Soia metal of the control center structure, it was the human's second-in-command who barked "[Plummet, Fury-two. State your purpose here. Why have you left the concealed hangar?]"
Fireblade could not follow the words, but their clipped tone belied the emotion behind them.
A male voice answered "[The sensors we put out for perimeter watch saw that Bug dropship beeline for you. We figured you'd been made, and headed over. Low and slow, so we weren't spotted. Turns out that elf pilot can handle the ship pretty good with one eye. Looks like you've got the Bugs running without us, so we can depart as soon as Fireball shows up.]"
"[Plummet, that dropship is a priority target. There is a Soia Minister aboard. You are cleared to engage with all ordnance. Bring it down.]"
"[Copy that, Fury-two. We've got our EWAR cranked; they're not getting an SOS out. Three of those elf missiles left on the racks, engaging now.]"
The light of the Shell dropship flared, Fireblade squinting to make it out even with her helmet's optical magnification. Thruster plumes vented to the side, as the Enemy craft hurled itself aside a fraction of a solon before the incoming missile would have obliterated it.
The missile continued on for a half-beat before its guidance system registered the miss, its maneuvering jets going limp as the dejected projectile soared off on a now-ballistic trajectory.
"[Damn, that fucker can turn.]" the voice from the prowler said. "[One more, then we're closing for guns.]"
A new missile streaked away from the prowler, as the two dueling craft rapidly approached each other.
This time, the dropship could not entirely evade.
"[Glancing hit, glancing hit!]" the strain in the human's voice came through the radio, as the Plummet banked hard to follow the dropship. "[They're still maneuvering, but one engine's flared out!]"
The two craft raced towards the ground, — 'plummeted,' even — twisting around each other as the Shell pilot fought desperately to keep the dropship away from Plummet's nose.
"[Almost have them, almost hav— bloody fucking Hell!]" A bright-green energy blast soared past the prowler, close enough that from Fireblade's perspective it almost seemed to go through the alien spaceship. "[That damn lunatic's firing out the back hatch!]"
The Plummet broke off just in time to avoid a second bolt, atmospheric contrails spinning off the wing-tips as the prowler turned sharply.
"[We're going around for another missile pass, I think. The elf's Trade is worse than mine!]" Heavy breathing interspersed the human's words, as the tenoin narrat hurled the hundred-mannal spaceship into another sharp turn as if it were the forty-mannal interceptor she had flown before. "[Bloody lunatic flies as crazy as the kid ever did, I'll give her that!]"
The ground team reached the bottom of the pyramidal approach to the control center, and paused. Their only real transport off of the Ring was currently toril-fighting a Shell dropship right above them, so running down to the waiting Seagull craft was superfluous.
Two of the human warriors kept going, their commander's words following them "[Mirez, Lovik, get word to Fireball. If we do not follow within two minutes, they are to pull back to the agreed meeting point and evacuate the Ring to rendezvous in orbit.]"
Overhead, the two dueling craft closed again. A third missile streaked towards the already-damaged Shell dropship.
"[Missile away!]" a quick breath. "[We've got four atmospheric craft closing on us from spinward, just popped up out of the ground clutter. Look like interceptors, small ones.]"
The human warriors raised their weapons, scanning the horizon over the towering rocky walls.
Then "[Mira! There!]" one of them called, a split-solon before he fired at the four dots rising skywards in the distance.
The distance was great enough that Fireblade could follow the energy bolts as discrete points rather than an instantaneous beam. They raced skywards, fading into invisibility.
Some sort of exotic projectile weapon rather than the pure-energy of a blaster?
The rest of the humans joined in, a fusillade clawing at the sky in front of the Shell combat drones. An impressive display of firepower. But at this range?
Fireblade would have said that the Shell craft 'ignored' the scattered incoming fire, if they hadn't been robotic drones. If the Shells considered their own flesh-and-blood soldiers to be completely expendable, they probably didn't even bother programming the unmanned craft to dodge at all.
Instead they fired their own volley, railgun projectiles screaming towards the Plummet.
The prowler rolled onto its side, twisting out of the way.
Almost.
Perhaps the Shell drones had calculated their volley to preclude any evasion, or perhaps the tenoin pilot was not exactly familiar with the craft that she was flying.
Either way, one of the rounds blasted a chunk out of the prowler's wing.
"[Plummet, you've got a hole in your left w—]"
"[I know! I know!]" the human copilot yelped. "[Didn't hit anything essential, but it's getting a bit touch-and-go up here!]"
Indeed, even as the ground team watched helplessly, the five Shell craft broke formation, dancing around the much-larger prowler like a pack of predators hunting a wild miros.
A red laser-blast seared out from the forward dorsal hump of the prowler, and one of the combat drones disappeared in a brief fireball. But even as smoking wreckage trailed its way down to the ground, the three survivors immediately dove to keep below the defense-turret's sweep.
"[Really wish we hadn't removed the bloody wing-guns!]" blurted the copilot. The Plummet rolled and twisted wildly, but could not throw the drones off of her tail.
Presumably out of desperation, the tenoin threw her ship into a vertical dive straight down, the sheer mass of her lumbering ship allowing her to open up the distance.
The defense-gun scored another kill… but the Plummet was rapidly running out of altitude.
And all the while, the Shell dropship was ascending into the distance, comfortably putting distance between the escaping Soia and her only pursuer.
Then both surviving drones suddenly exploded, a bright-red pulsed laser tearing them apart within a single beat. A moment later, and the loud crack of the shots reverberated throughout the canyon.
Screaming over the distant rocky landscape, a single Seagull rose to join the battle. "Plummet, Fireball. Bravo Five-oh-two has your back." Compared to the much-larger starship, even the bulky gunship seemed nimble as it climbed for altitude. "Let's go hunt a Soia."
For the first time, a loroi voice — a very tired one — was heard over the radio. "Your timing is most good, Alex! That fighting was becoming not fun." Plummet pulled out of her dive just above the ridgeline, the shock of her passage blasting small rocks into the air in her wake.
A fourth missile leapt out of the prowler's weapons bay, motor igniting as it lanced skywards.
Solon later, two more followed it from under the Seagull's wings. The human-made projectiles rocketed after their Union counterpart, catching up rapidly.
Ahead of them — and so far away that Fireblade struggled to see clearly — the Shell dropship once more threw itself aside in a desperate bid to survive.
The first missile screamed past its target, maneuvering thrusters failing to bring it into detonation range.
A last-minute blast of green energy-fire obliterated one of the two human projectiles.
But the last one slammed into the belly of the dropship, a fireball large enough for Fireblade to see clearly erupting from its far side.
The satisfied roar of sanzai which raced around the Union ground team was matched by exhilarated whoops from the human warriors. Their Legion counterparts stood silently, heads tracking the descending wreckage of the Shell craft.
The two human warriors who had left the group perhaps half a bima before returned, cheering loudly even as they panted from their sprint.
Fireblade frowned at the sight. If the human transport craft had been meant to wait at its landing point below, and the Soia metal of the Ring blocked communications, how had the pilot known to arrive above the ground just now instead of the planned rendezvous underground? It seemed to have been perfectly timed, but still a mystery.
"[Fireball, Fury-two. You're a sight for sore eyes. We're evacuating as soon as you can get down to dirt-level and take us aboard.]"
"[Understood, Fury-two.]" Alexander Jardin replied. After a pause, he added "[Uh, status on Fury Actual?]"
"[Alive, and finishing up last-minute preparations inside the control center.]" The human second-in-command said, leading the group back the way they came and towards the base of the pyramid in the valley's center.
The Seagull descended to meet them there, while overhead the Plummet orbited slowly, thin smoke still trailing from the hole in its wing. "[Get aboard and away right quick, the damage up here's really done a number on the directional camouflage. It's all I can bloody do to keep the whole system from crashing!]" By the sound of it, the prowler's copilot was not enjoying the damage to their craft.
And behind them the burning wreck of the Shell dropship trailed smoke as it fell, seeming to slow as it descended.
Fireblade frowned. No, not 'slow.'
'Turn.'
Her eyes widened as she realized the course that the craft was on. Perhaps the Shell pilot sought one last revenge before its death, or the team's streak of good fortune had just finally ran out.
{Dropship crashing straight towards us! Everyone seek cover!} she sent strongly, shoving Beryl aside towards the V-shaped depression of an iced-over stream that ran through the artificial valley. It was the closest thing that they could reach in the few solon they had.
Fireblade remembered only a fraction of a beat later that only a minority of the ground team could receive sanzai.
Well, this was not a time to cling too closely to teidar tradition. "Dropship crashing on us! Take cover now!" It had been some time since she had last spoken aloud — an off-the-record duel with a fractious junior teidar who had been causing trouble with the other personnel of Tempest… and who had been quickly transferred out to another formation, bald, bruises and all — but only a foolish warrior would have allowed that to dull her ability to speak when needed.
To their credit, neither the aliens nor the Legion loroi hesitated. They hurled themselves to the ground only a solon after their Union counterparts.
A few beats of silence… and then the world exploded.
Fireblade timed her telekinetic shield as best she could, an outwards shell of force that blunted the worst of the blast wave. The narrow culvert in which she and Beryl lay did the rest, and only a smattering of shrapnel clattered off of their armor.
Still, the heat was enough that the thin strip of exposed skin at the back of her neck stung even under the protection of her hair. Perhaps Tempo had had a point whenever the mizol argued against the… 'impracticality' of the custom-designed helmet.
Then again, no. Fireblade's career had mostly been shipborne duty, impressing the seriousness of their duty to the new warriors assigned to Tempest. In that, her hair was part of her reputation; the Semago of Seren had to be seen to be intimidating for that story to work for her.
And besides, the flowing crimson mane never failed to bring a proud smile to her face each morning, so—
Fireblade blinked, and shook herself. Dirt slid off of her armor as she rose to a crouch, surveying around her with blurred eyes.
A concussion, then. Fortunately mild, as she felt no dizziness and her vision was clearing quickly enough. But a bit of confused thinking was a small price to pay for surviving such a deadly crash.
It seemed that Tempo was thinking along the same lines. {Any injuries to report?}
{None, it seems.} Mallas Deepline sent with an air of surprise. {The two Legion loroi are under this rock with my caste-sisters and I, and they are unharmed as well.}
Beryl repeated Tempo's question in English over the radio. After a flurry of replies in that alien tongue, the tozet sent {It is indeed most fortunate! Two of the humans received minor fragmentation punctures where they protected their already-wounded comrade, but they are the only ones harmed!}
The ground team clambered to their feet, carefully approaching the still-hot wreckage of the Shell dropship. It seemed to have broken apart on impact — or perhaps just before — as the front half was all that remained, at the end of a smoking furrow blasted out of the soil. Tiny fragments of the engine section still pattered down around them, small trails of ash raining down in their wake.
"[Looks like the Bugs came down hard. Any sign of ejections just before the crash?]"
"[None. They rode it all the way in. Crazy bastards.]"
"[Motion sensor got anything on the So—]"
A metal plate flew away from the ruined dropship, and a bloodied blue hand clasped hard against the metal. The Soia pulled herself upright, bloodshot eyes glaring around the group with white-hot fury radiating out of them.
Ten weapon muzzles stared back at her, laspistol in a listel's hand as steady as the carbine-length weapon held by the ODST beside her.
For several solon, nobody said a thing.
Then the Soia doubled over, coughing hard. Blue blood flecked the ground at her feet.
It was… strange to think that this was the same Spy of Fire-city whose voice had haunted Fireblade's nightmares for so many years even after Seren was liberated.
The vile creature that had worked alongside the Shells, at least present for — and, Fireblade was now quite certain, leading — horrific experiments on the loroi both young and old who had had the misfortune to find themselves in one of the Hierarchy's prison compounds.
And here she was: beaten, defeated and surrounded.
Tempo took a step forwards, echoing Colonel Jardin's words from earlier. "Soia 'Minister,' you are outgunned and clearly injured. Surrender now, and we may provide med—"
The Soia tilted her head back to stare at Tempo, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth even as it curled into a sneer. Another hacking cough — no, not a cough.
Laughter.
"'Outgunned,' you say? Child, you clutch at authority far beyond what you may lay claim to. Do you simple creatures never learn to look up?"
The group froze, and then instinctively glanced upwards.
Clouds parted before the great shapes descending through them. Warships.
Hierarchy warships.
"[Oh bugger me!]" yelped the Plummet's copilot, the craft backlit against splotchy Shell hulls as it dove away from the far-larger warships. "[They're right on top of us! Sensors must have taken a—!]"
Fireblade had never before seen an in-atmosphere plasma focus shot.
She didn't enjoy it.
An eye-searing cone of yellow-green energy lanced out to engulf the prowler. She blinked away the afterimage just in time to see the smoldering craft fall out of sight beyond the rock walls, crumpled wings streaming flame.
Behind her, thrusters flared loudly as the Seagull ducked sideways into the questionable protection of a rocky cave.
"Now, I believe you spoke of 'surrender'?" the Soia mocked, drawing in a shuddering breath. "It is only right that I offer you the same opportunity. Surrender now, and I shall have my servants show clemency towards you. Comport yourselves wisely, and there may yet be places for you atop the occupation forces sent to the former Union."
Fireblade's pulse raced, and now it was hate rather than a mere concussion that blurred her vision. Surrender to such a creature, one who not only worked with the Shells but commanded them?
"Yes, even you humans. There is no reason to further continue our peoples' petty feud. Unless perhaps you hope to escape and rebuild your species from fifteen beings?" She glanced aside, where an oily black smoke plume rose above where the Plummet had crashed out of sight. "Thirteen, now. Your people will serve me, or you will doom your species to extinction."
Fireblade reached for her powers, to crush the Soia's skull like a sibreg fruit. They would all die under Shell bombardment a moment later… but it would be worth it.
Nothing.
She frowned… or tried to frown. Her muscles refused to obey.
Fireblade's eyes shot left and right, trapped in a head that refused to move.
The other members of the group likewise did not move at all. Could not move.
This was… Fireblade had not even felt any intrusion into her mind!
The Soia sagged to one side, leaning against the distorted metal frame. She slowly sank to a crouch, still tall enough that she was looking levelly across at the warriors frozen in front of her. "There. Take all the time you need to consider my offer. It has been some time since I was forced to strain myself so, but it will suffice for long enough." She rested her head back against the hard metal, eyes drifting closed.
Overhead, the Shell warships held station perhaps a thousand mannal up. Hangar doors fell open, light spilling out into the gathering darkness of the Ring's 'evening.' Shadows flickered as rounded shapes poured forth from those hangars.
More dropships.
Silhouetted against the lights dotting the larger warships, the small craft descended towards the canyon. And there was nothing that the ground team could do to stop them.
Fireblade stared off at the snow-draped nature scene before her. Beautiful, despite the scorch marks, smoke, and still-burning fires of the combat that had raged through the canyon.
It seemed that this mission would be her last, then… but it would be worth it to see this vile Soia cleansed from the galaxy.
She just hoped that the NOVA bomb in the control room would detonate soon.
The Soia in question snapped her eyes open, gaze locking onto Fireblade. "Bomb!?"
Blinding white light engulfed the group.