Short and Episodic Stories

Warning:  I don't trouble my editor with these so you're stuck with my lousy proof-reading

Drifting Tower 351006     Part 1: Prologue

            It wouldn’t be long now.  Even through the cracks that riddled the primary screen he could see their drives warming up.  They were going to micro-jump in.  This would be the last attack.  One way or another.

            They’d hesitated longer than he’d feared they would, albeit not as long as he’d barely dared to hope.  The eleven month siege had to be wearing on them as well.  They had damage to repair, organization charts to patch, morale to restore.  At the same time they must be eager to get this over with, to avenge their fallen brethren and finally achieve complete victory.  They knew the end was near too.

            There was the first jump.  Gaur sighed and turned away from the screen, slowly settling down into his command cradle.  It was a minor miracle in its own right, an almost sublime mix of bleeding edge technology and deep-delving magic.  The same qualities were reflected in the control room that guarded the cradle nestled securely in the exact center of the tower.  Everything here was without a doubt the very best in this universe.  No one had magitech on this level except the Drifting Towers and the technomages that served them.

            And yet…a subtle smell of smoke still permeated the room despite the air circulation system’s best efforts.  The screens and crystals that stretched across the walls bore numerous faint cracks.  Ominous red lights glared from all too many of them, telling of systems offline.  He could barely stand to look at the miniature model of the tower as the horrendous damage to be seen there made him want to weep.  As the cradle locked him securely into place he could smell traces of his own sweat and filth, see the faint stains where he hadn’t been able to completely scrub out his own blood.

            The Malthi had no magic, and although their technology was quite advanced by the standards of this universe it remained inferior to that of his beloved tower.  What they did have were almost inconceivable numbers and a ravenous, fanatical hunger that drove them onwards.  Although the final reckoning had yet to come their assets had proven…adequate to the task at hand.

            At least five times Gaur had detected Omega Pulses.  His brothers and sisters had fought well and long, their towers beside them to the last.  When their final moments had come they had not gone quietly, but instead had taken a few final foes with them as they denied their enemy the opportunity to learn from their corpses.  Just as he and Chary would do when the end came.

             Not yet though.  Not quite yet.  If the Malthi desired victory it was something they would need to pay for, and the price would not be low.  They knew that as well as he did.  The space around Chary was riddled with the gutted corpses of what had once been a great fleet.  Now only one task force remained, cobbled together from the survivors.

            Seventeen light hours out.  They sat there as if menacing the tower, but both sides knew the truth.  Chary’s Shion Cannons had devastated the Malthi capital ships from well outside their own range once Gaur had found a way for those guns to bypass Malthi shields.  They never should have allowed that dead destroyer to sit next to the tower where he could exploit it.

            The subsequent battle had been the most frantic and bloody yet, and had only ended when the Malthi had found a way to create a shield that could withstand Shion volleys.  Unfortunately for them they could only generate such a defensive screen utilizing the primary drives of their capital ships, and the ensuing war of attrition had left them with very few left.  The final task group was not lurking, they were cowering, huddled up for safety’s sake in the protective shadow of their last great carrier and a handful of remaining battleships.

            Ironically they probably had the firepower there to finally smash Chary in her wounded state, but they couldn’t bring it to bear.  The anti-Shion screen required running their primary drives at almost full power, so there was little left for actual propulsion unless they dropped the field.  They didn’t dare do that until they were certain all the Shion cannons were offline.  So instead they had sent in strike after strike of smaller vessels, spending ships and lives in an attempt to knock out those guns.

            As they were doing now.  The approaching attack wave was paltry compared to the massive assaults that had once swamped his screens, but then poor Chary was just as greatly diminished.  It might suffice.

            Despite their reductions the attacking force was impressive.  He counted one hundred and thirty-two destroyers, seventy-three light cruisers, thirty-nine heavy cruisers and even three battlecruisers.  Many were damaged but it was still a substantial force, albeit not the strike’s true teeth.

            That was the small craft.  Three thousand four hundred and eighteen fighters.  Six hundred and nine bombers.  One hundred and six assault shuttles.  Eighty-two gunboats.  The capital ships were primarily distractions and delivery systems.  The small craft didn’t have FTL drives so they had clamped on to the larger vessels’ hulls and hitched a ride. 

            Upon arrival they detached and swarmed forward, their slower big sisters flowing forward in their wakes.  All were eager, coming in as hot as possible.  The ship graveyard they were navigating urged caution but they pushed onward.  In some ways their confidence was warranted.  Many of Chary’s guns remained silent.

            Yet she still had teeth.  The Malthi had known that and not dared to jump up right next to her lest she shatter rake the small craft before they could adequately disperse.  It was a smart tactic but it cost them.  Chary’s anti-small craft defenses had limited range but her larger weapons did not suffer from that limitation.

            The tower’s hull trembled under the effort of what had once been effortless and smooth, but gun ports opened and weapons ran out.  Rapid-fire railguns began to shatter destroyers and light cruisers.  Pulsed plasma beams lashed out and tore chunks from heavy cruisers.  Anti-matter catapults scattered pyrotechnic displays throughout the still dispersing small craft, resulting in yet more spectacular reactions.

            Gaur could feel Chary shake, as much from rage as from strain and damage.  “Do what you have to do.  I’m with you to the end, you know that.”  He sent reassurance down their link and felt her recover control.

            Not that it made her any less savage.  The Malthi were sprinting into their own range, but not fast enough.  Runes and glyphs lit up all along Chary’s battered hull and she was wreathed in a corona of lightning strikes, running from one end of her length to the other until she glowed with the absorbed power.  Then thrusters and levitation spells twitched her slightly until her maw was pointed directly at the incoming force.  The plasma beam she vomited towards her foes was nearly as wide across as she was, and while it lasted it burned a hole in the enemy formation.  None of the battlecruisers would be making it into range.

            The control room began to shake as the fighters launched their missiles.  Gaur ignored them.  They only carried one set of missiles each and their shipboard lasers would inflict minimal damage to the tower.  Besides, he no longer had any defense drones for them to shoot down.  Instead he focused on the bombers behind them.

            Crystalline turrets pelted the small craft with fireballs.  The magical flames couldn’t burn directly through starship armor, but even in the vacuum of space they continued to burn fiercely and the ships couldn’t dump all that heat quickly enough.  External systems fried first, leaving the bombers blind and helpless.  Eventually the heat permeated to the weapons bays, cooking off ordnance and ending their suffering.

            It wasn’t enough.  Some of the bombers got through and Chary bucked and vibrated in agony as the first nukes got through.  Gaur responded with EM and lightning strikes, disabling and detonating bombers at the forefront of bombing runs, breaking up incoming formations.

            The few remaining capital ships entered their own range and began a bombardment.  EM fields killed their missiles mid-flight, defensive runes sapped their laser blasts of power and used it to reinforce the tower’s powerful shields which in turn repelled the incoming graviton beams.  When those defenses flickered and failed locally the tower’s armor did not.  Made of hyper-collapsed density carbon and reinforced with countless magics the substance was almost indestructible.  Almost.

            The defenses simply couldn’t stop everything.  There were too many holes, too many weak spots.  Too many systems offline or malfunctioning, too many runes defaced and magical reservoirs exhausted.

            It was a battle of attrition and Gaur and Chary were losing.  Every minute hundreds of Malthi died, but they had the numbers to absorb such losses.  Each tower subsystem knocked out, each gun silenced was priceless.

            Gaur looked at the timer on the bulkhead and swore.  Too soon.  Too soon damn it!  His displays flickered as he worked.  He dumped the archive and the library, erased his personal quarters and the garden, obliterated the kitchen and life support systems, and even the rift and communication hubs.  Everything that wasn’t combat-essential had to go.  They needed the power.  “We have to hold Chary!  Just a little longer, but we have to hold!”

            Relays burned and popped as the power transferred, but most of it got through, and long-disabled portions of the tower surged back to life.  There was a great screech as damaged systems came back online, followed by a series of explosions.  For a moment Gaur was worried it was too much and that his poor belabored tower would be ripped in half.  Then she stabilized.

            Defensive levitation fields came back online in places.  Three leech arrays powered back up and began draining capital ships in order to reinforce the shields.  She even managed to reactivate one of the glamour spires.  It wavered a bit but the illusions, compulsions and holograms wreaked havoc with the enemy formations in range.  Gaur was impressed and proud.  He’d thought all the spires were completely totaled.

            Would it be enough?  He surveyed the damage indicators and scans, checking the timer every few minutes.  Maybe.  It was going to be close.

            A new indicator popped into sight and Gaur swore.  He thought furiously for a moment, then toggled the release on his cradle.  “Chary, they’ve boarded us.  I’m going to go down there and explain to them why that was a poor decision.  Once I’m gone dump the control room.  One way or another this will be over before I can make it back.”

            For a moment her love flowed over their connection, then she was all fire and fury again.  Gaur heard the control room pop out of existence behind him once the door had closed, and the rattle of bolt-throwers suddenly echoed through the tower’s no longer sound-proofed interior.  He smiled.  That was a good choice for the freed-up energy.  Those guns had been offline for months but before that their rune-engraved projectiles had proven especially efficacious against small craft.

            Progress through Chary’s interior was difficult, in every sense of the word.  So many interior compartments had been voided that there were long sections of nothingness, making navigation tricky.  Damage only made the journey more hazardous and surreal.  Artificial gravity was out in large sections, as was life support.  The glowing edges that gave proof of recent enemy weapon strikes provided the only illumination.  In places damaged systems and half unwrought spells fought to maintain rooms that hadn’t been zeroed-out properly, resulting in unreal tableaus flickering in and out of current reality.

            As strenuous and nerve-wracking negotiating such an environment was the mental strain was almost worse.  It hurt Gaur to see Chary like this.  She’d been damaged before, but never this badly.  It had to be excruciating.  He concentrated on that thought, allowed it to focus his rage.  Far better to dwell on that then consider that she might be dying.

            Finally he was through, back where there was at least a semblance of order and functionality.  The boarders were here to disable tower defenses so of necessity they’d chosen a section that was still operational.  They were trying to find a way to destroy a railgun battery when he spotted them.

            They were the first living Malthi he’d seen in person.  He’d viewed their communication attempts to glean what he could about possible tendencies and tactics from their ultimatums, and of course there had been numerous autopsies and post mortems for the same reason.  None of the enemy had lasted long enough or gotten close enough for him to observe them in action.

            He felt just a tinge of atavistic dread at the sight.  Something in their appearance, in the way they moved seemed simply unnatural.  The feeling itself was so strange that (given that he had not yet been observed) he spared a moment to try to determine its source.

            It was not that they were alien.  He was at least somewhat familiar with all the various types of lifeforms he was custodian for in the sector, and none of them inspired a comparable reaction.  Besides the Malthi were an amalgamation of many species themselves.  Nor could their extra-universal origin be the case.  There had been refugees and invaders from other universes many times before, and Gaur had been involved or studied many such cases.  The presence of cybernetic implants wasn’t dispositive either.  Technically Gaur was a cyborg himself, and in many ways his own modifications and circumstances were far more unnatural than those of the Malthi.

            What then?  One of the boarders jerked, searching for threats and Gaur finally saw it.  It was the way they moved.  Their motions were not those of sapient beings nor even those of beasts, subject to anthropomorphism.  They seemed to be filled with shear inscrutable purpose, to have the opacity and single-mindedness of the most ruthless and survival-oriented species.  No whims, no real imagination, no personality.  Everything they did was meant to further the mission.  Like the most base and terrifying of the non-sapient insects.

            Sudden fury shuddered through Gaur’s frame.  How dare they come here and foul Chary!  He would burn the infestation out!  It was the work of a moment to conjure and hurl two azure fireballs.  They incinerated everything they touched and he charged forward in their wake.

            Only their reflexive reactions saved him.  They began firing automatically, and the first shot to impact on his chest armor blasted him back to his senses.  Temporarily befuddled, he ducked into cover and shook his head clear.

            He’d been awake for far too long.  When was the last time he’d slept for longer than a few hours?  He couldn’t remember, proving his own point.  No wonder he’d made such an incredibly stupid move, allowed himself to be overcome with emotion.

            Taking a moment to wryly thank the Malthi who had shot him, he then leaned back, evoking a brief clarifying trance, then chased it with yet more stimulants.  For a minute he lay behind the broken bulkhead, shuddering and twitching in agony.  His body couldn’t take much more of this sort of thing.  Not in its current state.  Then the reaction subsided.  He could contain himself at least a little longer.

            The end might be imminent though.  He hadn’t really thought this course of action through.  The Malthi were trained in infantry tactics and he was not.  A brief glance drove that home very quickly.  There was a collective twitch as they woke from the dream, then they began moving with clear purpose derived from long years of training and experience.  Before long a large group of the boarders were suppressing his position while others swung out carefully to flank him.  They’d have him in a crossfire before long.

            He really should have thought to fabricate hand weapons before coming down here.  As it was he didn’t even have a sidearm.  There’d never been a reason to carry one before, much less train in its use.  He took a moment to vow to himself that he would remedy that error, in the unlikely event he and Chary survived this battle.

            Still no technomage was ever truly unarmed as long as he still drew breath, and that was especially true in Gaur’s case.  Most technomages controlled their abilities and tower interface using a control gauntlet.  Some, more technically-minded, primarily utilized their suit’s virtual interface.  Others who were more inclined towards the mystic wielded a wand or grimoire.

            Gaur did not fall into any of those camps, but instead belonged to a proud faction of two.  A shadow flitted through his mind.  One now.  Taking a deep breath he steeled himself and stepped out of cover.  He would just have to represent both of them.

            The dagger he drew looked unassuming at first blush.  It was large enough that it fit seamlessly with his increased bulk in his armor, but not otherwise imposing.  In form it resembled a simple combat knife: straight, edged on one side and tapering slightly to a point rising from the unsharpened edge.  Deadly enough in its sheer utility, but nothing to pit against the guns and training of his foes.

            Although it had never been touched with the blood of enemies however it had certainly played a part in annihilating them.  It was Gaur’s primary control mechanism and as such it had been a critical component in many a desperate gambit and vicious improvised tactic.  This was on top of the role it had played in his training and preparation.  By those standards it had been instrumental in the deaths of many.

            So with a confidence born of equal parts experience, training and quiet raging despair Gaur pointed the dagger at his foes.  The first step was to give himself some added degree of protection.  His armor was robust but not really designed for firefights.  He needed additional power in order to erect a defensive shield.  The leech arrays provided inspiration, and a quickly muttered incantation and reconfiguration allowed him to replicate the system in miniature.

            The Malthi weapons had power aplenty, so he reached out to take and repurpose it for his own ends.  As the leech effect activated the dagger showed its true colors.  Tiny intricate runes glowed to reveal their presence and coruscating energy fields snapped into position.  Once the dagger had sprung to life it immediately launched the new leech attack.  It was hard to say who was more surprised by the results.

            The target Malthi fell to the floor in a stark transition, no death throes or final twitches.  They just collapsed lifelessly.  Gaur froze for a moment in shock.  It was well that the other portion of the attack had worked just as well, because without his new shield the next several shots would have ruptured his armor.

            Shaking himself once again he ducked back into cover, pondering.  What had happened?  He had intended to drain power from their weapons, not kill them.  It was a welcome result, but he needed to understand it lest the improvisation fail in the future.  Peering around a corner he risked a quick scan of the newly fallen corpses.

            Ah.  He’d miscalculated.  He was so used to the titanic clashes of space combat that he’d failed to scale down the technique properly.  He had leeched every bit of power from the targets, completely draining their weapons, their gear, their armor; right down to the electricity in their nervous systems.

            Effective yes, but not exactly efficient.  He couldn’t afford to waste his strength here.  Who knew what would be required in order to hold out long enough?

            What he needed was something simple yet effective.  He shifted behind cover as the enemy fire began to complete the destruction of the nearby bulkhead.  He could figure this out.  Infantry combat wasn’t that different from what he was used to.  In the end the enemy used similar weapons, and their power armor was not dissimilar from tiny space craft.  They had sensors, external hulls, life support and propulsion analogues.

            Life support.  It took only a transmitted thought to deactivate the life support in this section of the tower, then Gaur scooped up a large piece of flattened debris from the bulkhead.  A simple levitation spell held it aloft and a particle beam from his dagger scored it into numerous needle-like segments held to the whole only by a small disc in the center.  He carefully transferred energy until the impromptu device was heated to just shy of its melting point, then had the levitation spell begin to rapidly rotate the improvised weapon while lifting it free of his current cover.  When optimal speed had been achieved he used the particle beam again to vaporize the central disc.

            Freed from their connection the various sections obeyed inertia and rocketed across the room.  The near molten slivers blanketed much of the room at about chest height.  They didn’t do much damage to the bulkheads (being made of the same material) but they achieved excellent penetration against Malthi power armor.  They didn’t kill everyone they hit but they did rupture armor containment in most cases.  Since the compartment now matched the vacuum outside this proved a formidable distraction.

            Even as an amateur in ground combat Gaur had little difficulty exploiting such an opening.  He dispatched the remaining Malthi one by one, this time taking care to use much smaller (and more efficient) azure fireballs.  With the enemy in disarray they could no longer threaten to batter down his shield faster than he could re-use the leech technique, so it was simply a matter of time.

            The final eight or so rushed him, attempting (successfully) to bring him to grips before he could burn them all down.  All they did was change the type of deaths they died.  Although Gaur had never fought hand to hand before he had extensively practiced martial art knife katas designed to help focus his mind and achieve familiarity with his control mechanism.  His techniques were far too formulaic and he left many openings for strikes but it turned out not to matter.  The margin of superiority between his base capabilities and theirs was simply too high.

            Although not designed for ground combat his suit was stronger and tougher than theirs.  His senses and reactions times were greater than theirs as well, and although their bayonets were wickedly sharp and composed of a very strong alloy his dagger glowed with dual energies.  His cuts met virtually no resistance, so it didn’t take long for their remains to fall at his feet.

            He took a moment to ensure they were all dead, then turned to their boarding craft.  Crude by his standards but they were intact and powered, and that was all that mattered.  He carefully broke them up and fed them to Chary, giving her a smidgeon of extra strength courtesy of their enemies.

             After that he began to move through damaged sections, effecting repairs and clearing debris in areas that Chary’s damaged subsystems and remotes could no longer access.  It was complicated, difficult work and he threw himself into it whole-heartedly, trying to think of nothing else.  Any moment Chary could give him Code Omega, so he filled his mind with work, focusing on trying to hold off the end for another hour, minute, hell even one more second.

            So successfully had he engaged himself that he started when a signal finally came.  He staggered incredulously for a moment, then re-synched and checked Chary’s status.  11% combat effectiveness remaining, but what was within that small number was what really mattered.

            Emotion flowed forth from a wellspring deep inside himself, then he suddenly leapt and screamed.  “They took too long Chary!  They took too fucking damn long, and now they’re going to pay for it!”

            Four months ago Gaur and Chary had begun crafting a new weapon.  One month ago they had deployed it in orbit of the tower, a neat little loop that allowed Chary to apply power in order to continuously and gradually accelerate it.  Two days ago the weapon had reached a speed of 0.5 light speed.  Thirty five hours ago they had released it, and in twenty seconds it was going to impact the Malthi barrier.

            It was perhaps the most expensive spear ever constructed in the history of this universe.  The exterior of both the spearhead and shaft were comprised of a new collapsed density composite that was so effective it was virtually impossible to handle.  Despite being the size of a normal spear the weapon possessed the mass of a starship.  It had taken over a week to move the weapon out of the tower, even with tractor drones, mass negation and levitation fields.

            Runes of true-seeking were inscribed across the spearhead, while the shaft was covered with spells of invisibility.  The latter were infrequently used since of necessity they also blinded whatever they were cast upon, hence the use of a spear rather than a missile or drone.  Additionally, although invisibility protected against visual detection and many active sensors they didn’t keep the Malthi from noticing the mass changes or the energy increase.  That had been the rationale for the weapon’s small-size and gradual acceleration.  The Malthi hadn’t noticed the changes, likely attributing the new readings to the damage to the tower which served as a backdrop.

            All of which explained how the spear had made the trip undetected, but not why.  After all the spear itself couldn’t significantly damage the enemy ships, regardless of mass and acceleration.  It could perhaps carry a payload but there was no conventional way to reliably detonate it at the proper moment.  It had been a knotty problem.

            They couldn’t use a timer because circumstances might force them to release the weapon before it had reached optimal speed, regardless of the increased risk of detection a longer flight time would inflict.  Any sensors that could safely be installed were pointless due to the invisibility spell and the skewing effects of the carapace’s own density combined with the projectile’s high speed.  Magic could bypass some of those concerns but no spell would suffice against the Malthi barrier.

            They’d found a way around that, by going back to basics.  One of the most rudimentary spells was one which detected energy.  Very simple and short-ranged, only good for a 100 feet or so.  That allowed the spear to detect the barrier.  The rune for that spell sat inside the shaft, just behind the spearhead, connected to a simple light crystal.  When it detected a significant energy field ahead of the spear the crystal lit up.  It had been pitch black inside the haft up until that point, so the light from the crystal activated the miniscule light-sensitive sensor nestled up against it.  That in turn told the compact shield generator that made up a quarter of the spear’s haft to deactivate.

            This turned out to be unfortunate for the Malthi, because the rest of the haft was packed with anti-matter.  The resulting explosion was small by the standards of space combat, but quite powerful.  Sufficient to temporarily create a localized destabilization in the barrier.

            Chary was waiting.  They’d known precisely when and where the spear would impact, so she fired the moment the window opened.  The Malthi hadn’t thought through the ramifications of the possibility that silent weapons were not necessarily silenced.

            Three months ago Chary had rotated to screen a devastated battery from Malthi view and the repair work had begun.  Over a quarter of the battery had been salvageable, and they had conducted repairs with their usual efficiency, with only one exception.  Debris and damage had not been cleared away, but instead added to.  There was plenty to choose from (in fact one gun was covered by the burnt prow of a Malthi destroyer.)  They’d camouflaged the weapons, then never fired them again.  Despite the many harrowing attacks they’d faced since, they’d reserved those weapons for this opportunity.

            The Malthi literally never saw it coming.  Shion attacks were faster than light (by an incredible degree) so the blasts couldn’t be detected until they arrived, and Chary began firing the moment the spear detonated.  The Malthi aboard the carrier and accompanying ships heard the alarm indicating the barrier had fluctuated and before they even had time to look at their screens their ships were under fire.

            Their shields were configured to create the barrier, so since the first salvo fired through a gap in that barrier it went in completely unopposed.  Chary had been calculating the placement of that salvo for months, and it ripped through the carrier’s primary shield generator.  The vessel’s contribution to the barrier faltered as the computer began to switch to the secondary generator.

            If the Malthi capital ships had been each protecting themselves that would only have affected one ship.  The largest and most significant remaining, but still a limited loss.  When the barrier had been established however the Malthi had possessed many more ships, and the largest of their vessels had combined their efforts to create a shield large enough to cover all of them.  Changing that after the fact would have mean dropping the barrier, so they had simply left well enough alone.

            Without the carrier’s contribution the barrier itself flickered, and Chary continued to fire without pause.  The Malthi couldn’t do anything to stop her.  Some tried to restore the barrier, others to reconfigure shields and engines.  One enterprising captain attempted to do an emergency micro-jump.  All for naught.  The same technology that gave Chary faster than light weaponry supplied her with real time sensor readings of their actions.  It was a return to the part of the fight when Gaur had first discovered how to exploit Malthi shields using Shion cannons, only this time the enemy didn’t have the numbers to absorb even his diminished fire.  The distant fleet remnants died to the last Malthi.

            The closer foes didn’t know that of course.  Unlike the tower they did not possess faster than light sensors, so all they knew was that Shion weapons thought neutralized were firing on their motherships.  They surged forward to silence the guns and save ships that were already dead.

            Shion weaponry tended to create slightly paradoxical outcomes as a matter of course, something Gaur had always found fascinating.  In this case the light emitted as a byproduct from the Shion cannons traveled for nearly seventeen hours to impact long dead targets.  Around the half-way point said light passed the emanations emitted by the spear’s explosion and the subsequent weapon impacts, with the flares from the exploding ships in its wake.  When the light from the cannons actually arrived there was only cooled and dissipating debris for it to bounce off of.  Gaur resolved that, if they survived, he would review the records from the visual scanners that were left.

            That was for later though.  For now he had to aid Chary in trying to fight off one final assault.  The Malthi had ceased their complex patterns of evasive maneuvers and intricate strikes in favor of pushing forward to stop the Shion cannons.  Chary in turn strove to prevent that, not for the cannons’ sake, (they had played their role and in fact were no longer even powered) but because they were the ultimate lure, drawing the Malthi into the best killbox the pair had been able to cobble together from what was left.

            To an outside observer it looked like sheer force on force, a bloody meat-grinder of brute force and desperate attrition, and in some ways that was true.  Chary and Gaur had known it might come to this though, and they had planned for it.  That ended up making all the difference.

            Gaur could see the comm tech gasp in shock as his end of the transmission stabilized.  It had taken Chary and himself weeks to restore even basic comm capability and the effort had not left them with much time to effect other than necessary stabilizing repairs.  The scene behind him showed a tower battered and nearly broken, wavering on the brink of death.  It spoke nothing but the truth.

            Still despite the stress and pain Gaur felt a glow of pride.  Chary was pushing past her agony, and although her signal was weak it was unwavering.  He forced his voice to match.  “CHQ this is Drifting Tower 351006.  Request permission to file emergency after-action report.”

            At first the tech continued to stare, then she blinked and nodded.  “Permission granted Drifting Tower 351006.  Ready to receive data transmission.”

            “CHQ I regret to inform you that due to extensive damage our report will be verbal only.”

            “Ah, I…” she looked down, clearly frantically searching for the proper response for a situation she had never encountered.  “…I uh…Tower 351006, can you maintain transmission for long?”

            Gaur growled to himself for a moment, then checked the screens.  “The relay is estimated to hold for another twenty minutes or so, but I’d prefer to hold some of that in reserve.”

            “Uh yes…please hold for just one minute.”  Her side of the transmission vanished and Gaur’s growl became louder.

            In fact it was four minutes before the transmission resumed.  This time it showed someone Gaur recognized.  “Drifting Tower 351006 this is Magus Trearne.  I am prepared to receive your verbal report.”

            Gaur came to attention.  “Drifting Tower 351006 emergency after-action summary.  We have engaged the enemy for a period of three hundred and forty-two days.  As previously reported we detected the enemy long before they arrived.  Unfortunately upon arrival they immediately began jamming long-range communications so were unable to report that the detected force was merely a vanguard.”

            Trearne was taken aback by that.  “The massive force you reported was only the vanguard?”

            “Yes.  The main force was approximately five times its size.  An exact count will have to wait until we can bring databases back online.  We engaged the enemy as ordered.  Attempts to reason with or dissuade them from their course were unsuccessful so hostilities ensued.”

            “Hostilities concluded nineteen days ago, and we began repairs in order to re-establish communications.  Drifting Tower 351006 is at approximately 2% combat capability.  Drifting Tower 351005” there was an almost imperceptible pause or catch in his voice “was forced to institute Code Omega.  We would like to testify for the record that Drifting Tower 351005 fought in the best traditions of the Drifting Towers and accounted for approximately 54% of the enemy force.  We would like to nominate them for entrance into the Stationary Hall, an honor for which we can provide ample justification once our databases are restored.”

            Another pause.  “We also detected an additional five Omega Pulses, although due to sensor degradation we cannot say much more with certainty.”  He straightened slightly.  “Nevertheless we remain marginally operational and ever vigilant.  Our rift hub is offline and long range communications will not remain online for long.  Request the immediate dispatch of repair teams and required materials.”

            Ignoring him Trearne leaned forward.  “What of the enemy?  Did they push onward upon realizing you were disabled or did you actually drive them into retreat?  How many remain of the force that engaged you, what was their composition and disposition?”

            Now the growl began to return.  “Apologies for being unclear.  Enemy casualties were total.”

            “Total?”  Trearne looked stricken for a moment, then his head was in one hand.  “Total.  Of course.  That only makes this harder” he muttered, almost to himself.  He looked back up.  “Excellent work as always Gaur.  You and Chary both.  I wish…” he looked down again, then squared himself in front of the pickup.

            “Tower 351006 I’m afraid the situation is more dire than you know.  In the last year we’ve lost thirty-four towers across the portion of the border the Malthi are using for ingress.  They are launching a comprehensive offensive, and at the moment it is proving quite successful.  Both the sector adjoining yours have fallen.  We’re doing everything we can but as you know all too well erecting towers is not something we can do much to rush.”

            “Your sector was already well below strength.”  He raised a hand as Gaur made to respond.  “I am well aware for the reasons for that and no one can blame you.  Once you became understrength your sector became an enticing invasion point and enemy after enemy seized on that opportunity.  It formed a vicious cycle where you who could least afford to lose towers also had the worst loss rates.”

            “Still, regardless of how it came to pass I’m afraid you’re the only tower left in the sector.  To be honest we didn’t think there were any survivors, hence the shock at your transmission.  We’d given the sector up for lost and are working to consolidate in the sector behind you.  There’s just nothing available.  I’m sorry.”

            Rage suddenly gripped Gaur.  “That’s what you said last time!  And the time before that!  Hell that’s the message you made us deliver when we was assigned to the sector as neophytes!  ‘Sorry, we can only give you two new towers.  We just have nothing available.’  Never up to strength, never enough reinforcements, just excuses and orders to pick up the slack!”

            “Every single reinforcement we gave you burned!”  Trearne’s temper flared up in response.  “What were we supposed to do, keep shoveling rookies into the furnace?  Give you and Fredericka an endless supply of meat-shields?  Throw good money after bad?”

            So overwhelming now was Gaur’s anger that unnoticed sparks and wisps of energy began to cascade and jet off of his suit.  Behind him the innards of the tower gave matching proof of Chary’s reaction.  “How dare you malign Freddi and Scyl that way?”  Flames began to flow off of him and wash over the viewscreen.  “How dare you?  Those rookies died because they didn’t have enough support!  If there had been enough towers here we could have all mutually supported and they could have gotten experience, but instead you threw them here in penny packets and scattered them across the sector!  We were all swamped, unable to cover each-other and naturally the enemy focused on the easiest targets first!  If you’d built from the inside out like Freddi begged you to this sector would still be standing strong!”

            Trearne drew himself up to deliver his own invective, then his passion died and he drooped miserably.  “Perhaps” he said softly.  “Perhaps you were right all along.  Still, despite our differences over tactics I’ve never had anything but admiration for you all.  Please forgive any aspersion I cast at the departed, especially Fredericka and Scyl.  I didn’t mean it, this situation is just…dire.  But also please realize that despite our disagreements we’ve never lied about tower availability.  You know there are hard limits, and we just don’t have any to spare.”

            Although still furious Gaur recognized the attempt at conciliation and got a grip on his own temper.  “Fine.  Fine.”  He was still shuddering with rage but at least his voice calmed significantly and the flames faded considerably.  “Just send us over a repair team.  The next enemy fleet is likely a ways out, and we’ve learned quite a bit from this battle.  Once Chary’s back to full strength we’ll begin preparing.  We might be able to hold them back, at least for a while longer.”

            Now Trearne looked truly miserable.  “I’m…I’m sorry Gaur, you misunderstand.  We don’t have any resources to spare.  No matter how bravely you fight that sector is lost, so we can’t afford to help you.  We need to focus on reinforcing the sector behind you in the hopes that it can hold them back and give us time to prepare some sort of counter-offensive.  Somehow.”

            “Your official orders are to continue to hold as long as possible.”  His voice softened considerably.  “Unofficially we recommend you both go to sleep, wait for the next fleet and then institute Code Omega once they’re within range.  There’s no need for you to suffer any longer.  We thank you for your inimitable service.  Rest assured both you and Fredericka and Scyl will be inducted into the Stationary Hall.”  His voice caught and he halted for a moment to compose himself.  “For what it’s worth I am truly sorry.”

            Gaur could do nothing but stare.  Had a tower ever been abandoned by CHQ before?  He had never heard of such a thing, and without archive access there was no way to check.  Regardless the thought of not receiving repairs and reinforcements had never even occurred to him.  Once he realized they had survived he had steeled himself for a long period of repairs and preparation, then yet one more in a series of trying to defend the sector with insufficient resources.

            He had no response.  Could barely even comprehend what he had been told.  The flames and sparks writhing along his suit died completely and he just stood there, lost.  What was he supposed to do now?  He and Chary?

            Forgetting the transmission completely he looked up at the tower, searching for an answer.  Was this it?  The fight over?  No more purpose, no more struggle?  Now yield to sleep and wait for the fire to end everything?

            Complex thoughts and emotions began to flow agitatedly across his link to the tower, too fast for him to comprehend fully.  Like him she felt rage and sorrow, but there was not despair.  Instead there was something else.  The seed of an idea perhaps.

            Frustrated at her inability to communicate properly given her degraded state Chary redirected some of her scant available power.  Relays whined and sparked but finally a single additional viewscreen came alive.  Gaur watched transfixed as images flowed across it.

            Slowly understanding dawned, and he felt purpose return to his life.  It would never work of course, not in the end.  They would all die, just not quite yet.  Not without a fight.  Not alone.  A few more Malthi would be accompanying them.

            As he turned back to the pickup Trearne shuddered.  In his desperate plight even the formidable discipline of a technomage had begun to fail and Gaur’s abilities were reacting freely to his emotions.  The magus watched as the other’s armor was covered with a thick coat of ice.  The technomage didn’t even notice.

            “Orders acknowledge.  We will conduct repairs and preparations utilizing local resources and continue to hold.  As communications capabilities are failing further reports may not be forthcoming.  Drifting Tower 351006 out.”

            The transmission ceased.

Drifting Tower 351006     Part 1: An Embassy in Flames 

Despite the fact that males of his species were often consummate natural diplomats the Honorable Zhaims was thinking some very impolite thoughts at the moment.  The chaos before him went a good way towards explaining his mood.  The conference room was full of diplomats, staff and representatives from six different star nations.  Most of them were currently engaged in bickering that ranged from biting remarks to outright shouting.

            Time to try once again.  He stood.  “Ladies, gentlemen please.  Although I understand our polities have many long-standing grievances and disagreements the issue at hand is relatively simple, and I believe we have addressed most of the causes for concern.”

            The room quieted somewhat as he began to tick off items.  “We have all agreed to allow one representative cum liaison to facilitate aid and assess the situation.  The representatives have been selected and been deemed unobjectionable by all here.  We have agreed that no more than one ship per nation, of destroyer class or equivalent, will be dispatched to support the appropriate representative.  We also all acknowledge that any such vessel will bear the risks inherent in such a posting.  What other matters directly relevant to our purpose in gathering do we have yet to discuss?”

            One of the Nopalhohn staffers stood, his retort coming quick.  “Whether it is appropriate for any ships to be dispatched!  Given the extremely convenient inability to garrison troops in the structure the only forces in the region will be said ships, and we all know who that situation benefits!”

            Zhaims looked around for support.  Everyone was lining up about as he would have expected.  He sighed internally.  “With respect, regardless of what you may choose to believe that decision is one we regret.  It is the position of the Eormin government that this threat is quite possibly real, and as such we wish we were all allowed to send as many personnel as possible.  Were it politically viable we would be sending an entire task force and invite as many divisions as you could spare.  However the current environment unfortunately does not permit…”

            The boom was an almost welcome distraction from the raucous meeting.  Zhaims had one moment to feel that relief, vaguely wondering what had caused the noise as he watched the window in front of him shatter.  Then weapon fire came through the new hole and made the meeting someone else’s problem.  Half his delegation was similarly relieved of immediate concerns.  There was a series of rolling irregular booms from outside.

            “Get down!  Get away from the windows!  Crawl to cover, now!”  The commands came with a thick accent but in a tone that was authoritative and competent.  The bewildered diplomats and staffers found themselves obeying.

            The speaker was dressed in the uniform of the Reisun Confederation’s army, and his sidearm was in his hand as if it had been there all along.  In one fluid motion he rolled and leapt to the cover directly beneath the windows, then risked a quick look, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.  Another volley blasted in through the aperture in answer and he hissed a laugh at the margin by which it missed him.  “Amateurs.”

            Another deceptively smooth motion brought him back to the cowering staffers.  “Looks like a terrorist attack.  Security is fighting back but they were bombed.  They won’t hold and there’s an enemy team poised to enter the building.  We need a place to make a stand.”

            He turned, searching through the chaos until he picked out a slightly built young woman.  “Sar Meera?”

            Her eyes studied him for a moment, calm and unexpressive behind the intricate runic tattoos that covered her face.  Then she nodded once, sharply.

            “I intend to head to the security room to see if the building can be locked down.  Your skills would be quite useful there if you would deign to accompany me.”

            Another long look, then she nodded again.

            “Excellent.”  His facial scales shook in his species’ version of a smile and the pair left together.

            In his absence the mood in the room worsened.  Some staffers sat in shock, others cowered in corners.  A few muttered unstably to each other.

            Another incoming volley finally spurred one to speak nervously.  “We should make a break for it now, before the guards are all killed!  At least some of us will make it.  They can’t catch us all, and it’s better than being trapped in here.”

            There was a pause, then a murmur of agreement came.  An Eormin woman stood, brushing dust off of her exoskeleton and naval uniform.  “Nonsense” she scoffed gently.  “If they could have blown up this building they already would have, but they definitely have demonstrated the firepower to burn us all down if we panic.  We need to do as the Reisun gentleman suggested.  We should all get to a safer place and wait for reinforcements.”

            “But they’re jamming communications!”

            She just laughed.  “I hardly think the authorities are likely to miss all this!”  One clawed hand waved at the chaos outside while her upper limbs continued to pick off tiny pieces of debris.  “Come on now, up the emergency stairs, that’s the ticket.  Quick as you like.”  She chivvied what was left of the Eormin delegation out of the room, looked back to see if anyone would follow, then shook her head sadly and headed up herself.

            A few of the Cheval Republic delegation made to follow her despite their difficulty with stairs, but a subtle head shake from one of their number made them desist.  He looked about the room carefully, then sidestepped a bit closer to one of the more panicked groups.  He paused to take a deep breath and suddenly his entire demeanor changed.

            “They’ll all be trapped up there and butchered like animals!  We need to find a way out of here immediately, before the trap snaps shut!”  For a moment there was silence, until his tail switched almost imperceptibly at one of his subordinates.

            The latter blinked and bridled in place for a moment, then took the hint.  “But M. Petille, perhaps the Eormin woman was correct.  Surely no one could miss all this?”  He waved a hand at the noise outside.

            Petille laughed, a sharp bitter wavering sound ending in a snort.  “You would put your faith in the Eormin?  On the ground?  In space perhaps, if they couldn’t find a way to profit over leaving us all to die, but we all know they’re worthless once they leave their ships.  No, if we don’t find a way out this will be our tomb.”

            One of the Reisun Confederation staffers suddenly nodded jerkily, his growing panic easy to see.  “The damn pony is right!  It’s now or never.  Get behind me everyone, we’re making a break for it!”

            About a quarter of those left lined up near the door.  The loudmouthed staffer never noticed Petille hold his people back when they made to join the group, nor did he see the hidden self-satisfied smirk on the face of the man he’d just insulted.  Perhaps if he had he would have questioned his course of action.

            Very few of those who ran survived.  The terrorists were firing wildly, but they had a lot of guns.  Petille didn’t turn away from his hidden vantage point at the window until the last staffer had stopped moving.

            Now he seemed like a completely different person, calm but sad.  “What a dreadful business.  How I wish we had dissuaded them.”  His grief and sorrow seemed as genuine as his previous fear.  “We must make certain their sacrifice was not in vain.  I observed the terrorists firing and realized they do not have a good line of sight along the near wall.  If we exit the door and hug that wall moving away from them they won’t be able to see us.  As long as we proceed individually and stay close we should be able to make it safely deeper into the compound.” 

            The survivors gratefully took his advice, most of them unaware of how deliberately their escape route had been mapped.

            Elsewhere the compound was in chaos.  Incandescent bolts of energy pelted a courtyard as the Surki Federation tech and the Reisun Confederation soldier sprinted across it.  “Get the door Meera, I’ll cover you” the latter shouted.  Meera stared at him for a moment, then nodded again and dropped back into a precise zig-zagging rush to the far side.

            Once she arrived she quickly realized the door was locked.  Cocking her head she reached towards her waist, then halted the movement as she realized she was in court dress and therefore was not wearing a tool belt.  She blinked twice, considering, then nodded to herself.  Her tattoos began to glow and her outline blurred, her mass increasing at least three times.  Her grey skin stretched effortlessly, her features mainly remaining intact, just written larger.  The same protruding fangs, pointed ears and moss-colored eyes were all present, albeit much more substantially.  Likewise her clothing remained the same, simply scaled-up.

            She used her larger form to great effect, grunting with effort as she carefully secured proper leverage and gave a quick sharp yank, twisting the door frame and popping the bolt free.  “Erhec!  Come!”

            The soldier nodded in reply, his attention never wavering from the enemies he was exchanging fire with.  Methodically he shifted targets, popping accurate fire at various enemies in turn in order to keep them all suppressed and inaccurate.  Then abruptly he shifted.

            Moving with a speed that seemed implausible given his hefty frame he went from stationary to a full on sprint.  His tail extended out behind him as he picked up speed, bent almost double to minimize exposure.  Despite his precautions a round caught him and he stumbled and fell, rolling until he caught himself with his free hand.  His claws dug into the ground and he skidded to halt, then righting himself he resumed his flight.

            He plunged through the open door without further incident, collapsing into a heap once inside.  Meera bent and edged in sideways, pulling the door shut behind her.  “Are you hurt?” she asked as she worked to jam the door.

            “Not…not badly.”  Erhec’s tongue flicked out as he twisted to examine the wound, gingerly working his left shoulder.  “Just a glance.”

            There was a glow and Meera resumed her previous form.  “It would be prudent to allow me to examine the site of the injury.”  At his nod she approached and looked down at him penetratingly.  “It is far from negligible but I do not believe complications will develop.  Hold still while I improvise a dressing.”

            She removed her jacket and began using a decorative metal fastener efficiently to undo a seam.  “Given the burn pattern on your uniform I expected the damage to be more severe.  Is it possible your scales are somewhat ablative or otherwise energy-resistant?”

            Erhec grunted as she wrapped the now-detached sleeve into place.  “A little bit.  Not much good on its own, but it does me good when they punch my armor.”  He hissed a laugh.  “Or when I’m not allowed to wear it.”

            “I see.”

            Another sibilant chuckle.  “Thank you for the first aid.  We’d better get moving before your medical skills are in demand again.”

            “Now if only we knew where we were going.”  They proceeded down a series of corridors, only to have to scramble for cover when coming under fire once again.  Erhec swore and returned fire sparingly.  “Wish I’d brought more power cells.”

            Meera popped her head up for a moment, then back down.  “If you have limited ammunition reserves we should seek an alternate route.  I count at least four foes, and two of them appear to have ensconced themselves in formidable positions.”

            A volley smashed into the wall near her in punctuation and Erhec grunted in agreement.  “You are probably right, but how to keep them from pursuing?  We need some sort of…what’s this?”

            Behind the terrorists pouring fire into their positions emerged a man in the court dress of the Nopalhohn Primacy.  His movements were furtive, his face ashen.  It looked as if he were about to seek safety undetected, but then he caught sight of the pinned duo.

            For a moment he looked stricken, then his desperation seemed to give him courage.  Reaching out to the nearby wall he seized a decorative lighting fixture and ripped it free, demonstrating a casual strength belied by his slight frame.  Approaching the rearmost terrorist he hesitated, then brought the improvised club down in a jerking motion, almost crushing his target’s skull.

            A few steps to the side and the process was repeated with a second attacker.  That victim must have made a sound as he died because his two companions in the forward positions suddenly turned.  One of them let loose a shout of outrage, but Erhec had been waiting for such an opportunity, and he stood and took careful aim, gunning down both remaining foes before they could fire.

            The danger past Erhec and Meera advanced to meet the Nopalhohn officer, finding him searching the bodies.  “Shifters” he said offhandedly.  “Anarcho-separatists by the look of things.”  He held up small golden pins for their eyes.  “Likely here to kill the Surki Federation ambassador.”  He caught sight of Meera and grimaced.  “No offense intended.”

            “I am certain” she responded coldly.  Erhec looked back and forth between the two, aware of a subtext he was missing.  Finally he shrugged minutely and spoke.  “Regardless, thank you for your intervention.  I’m Major Erhec, and this is Sar Meera.”

            The Nopalhohn man stood, his smile crooked but seemingly genuine.  “Alidrei.  Glad to be of service.  I got separated from the rest of my delegation.  Can you direct me to them?”

            “Afraid not.  We’ve been searching for the security room for some time now.”  Erhec quickly and professionally stripped the corpses of weapons and ammunition.  “At least we have some real weapons now.”

            Alidrei frowned.  “I’m not certain it will be enough.  I passed a sign for the security room earlier.  I don’t think it is far away, but that entire area is crawling with separatists.  They must have made it a priority.”

            “Damn.  Meera is there anywhere else we could access the compound’s security systems?”

            “Without a doubt, but given that I am unfamiliar with the systems in question and the compound’s layout I have very little idea where we could find such places.”

            He sighed.  “Well shit.  In that case I suppose we should…”

            Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a piercing, chilling scream.  It began as something that sounded like it issued from the throat of a woman, high-pitched but with far too much volume and depth.  It was penetrating, rattling and vibrating internal organs and bones.

            Abruptly the sound changed, to the much more conventional but equally terrifying sound of men shrieking in pain and shock.  Their screams were filled with agony and fear.  One by one they were silenced, until the only sounds were those of the distant firefights.

            “What…what in the hell was that?”  Erhec was mechanically sweeping the corridors and approaches for danger, his appropriated carbine at the ready.

            “No idea, but it sounded like it came from the direction of the security room.”  Alidrei admitted hesitantly.

            “In which case we should investigate.  It is possible the situation has changed and our objective is once again obtainable.” 

            The two men considered Meera’s words, then nodded; Erhec decisively, Alidrei with obvious reluctance.  The trio proceeded down the corridors carefully, Erhec coaching them into a rough leapfrog formation that allowed one to cover while two advanced.  Finally they reached a door marked security.

            “Note a distinct lack of terrorists in the general vicinity?” Meera said in a studiously neutral tone.

            “They were all over the place, I swear.” came Alidrei’s nervous response.

            “Either way, we should be ready for anything.  Post up on either side of the door.  I’ll open it and hit the deck, that way we can catch anyone inside by surprise.”  The major quickly matched his actions to his words.

            The door swung open and weapons swung up to cover the interior, then drooped in shock.  The trio blanched and recoiled in shock.  After a moment they turned to each-other to confirm that their confusion was shared.  (It was.)

            The security room was full of corpses.  Mutilated corpses.  Blood was sprayed haphazardly along the walls and pooled on the floor around the bodies of the deceased terrorists.

            The woman working at the terminal inside pivoted in her chair at the sound of the door opening.  It was difficult to make out at first against her red dress and dark skin, but she was also liberally coated in blood.  This didn’t seem to discomfit her very much.  “Ah, good to see friendly faces.  I’m Harrety, from the Amalgamate Union delegation.  I’ve been trying to reactivate the security protocols but I’m locked out.  Do any of you have any particular technical expertise?”

            Meera cocked her head for a moment, then nodded.  “Yes.  This model resembles one I am familiar with.  It should be possible to force reinitialize the system, which will reset the security systems to default.  I will begin immediately.”

            Without delay she began removing panels and sorting through wiring.  For her part Harrety yielded her position graciously, retrieving a terrorist weapon and ammo bandolier from the back of her chair and aiding the men in standing guard.  “Excellent.”

            For ten or fifteen minutes the awkward silence was only broken by the clatter of panels being pried free and the crackling of broken wires.  There was a momentary glow and Meera shrank until she was about six inches high, hovering on delicate flickering wings.  She flew directly into the terminals innards and there were a series of flashes and the smell of burning circuitry, then she emerged, grew and resumed work.  A few more forced connections and the system died.

            A few minutes later it came back online, bringing with it emergency klaxons.  There were a series of deep booms as external blast doors slammed shut, then a sudden muted clatter as auto guns sprang to life.  Security measures were clearly back online.

            “Oh splendid.  Well done!” Harrety enthused.  “I’m very glad you came along when you did.”

            Meera’s only response was a gracious quarter bow, but Alidrei saw an opportunity.  “Speaking of which, what exactly happened here?”  When he got a confused look in return he clarified.  “I mean with the separatists.”

            “Oh that.”  Harrety’s tone suggested it was a matter of little concern.  “Well I was in the corridor when they rushed the compound.  I wasn’t armed at the time, so they were able to take me prisoner, and they brought me here while they locked down the system.  After they were finished they proposed something rather untoward, and I’m afraid I lost my temper.”  She shrugged.

            “I…see.”  Alidrei was quiet for quite some time.

            Three hours later the situation was mostly contained.  The reactivation of security had done quite a bit of damage to the attackers, and Eormin security forces had finished what was left.  The delegation survivors were clustered in a conference room for safety’s sake.

            Most people were still in shock, and the exceptions were busy taking care of the injured or softly chatting.  A rapping on the table drew everyone’s attention.  It was the woman who had led the Eormin delegation to safety.

            “Everyone, I’m sorry to disturb you.  I’m Captain Mrathyn, the Eormin representative.  I apologize for not knowing everyone on sight.  If I call your name will you please indicate whether you are present?”  At their nods she continued.

            “Sar Harrety, the Amalgamate Union representative?”  Harrety smiled and gave a genteel wave.  “Alive and well” she said cheerfully.  The effect was somewhat ruined by the traces of blood that a hurried scrub had failed to remove.

            “For the Cheval Republic, Sar Petille?”  He chuckled in response, his hooves ringing slightly as he approached.  “Present.”

            “From the Surki Federation, Sar Meera.”  Unsurprisingly her only response was a nod.

            “Major Erhec for the Reisun Confederation?”  He threw a brisk salute that the Captain returned before moving on.

            “And representing the Nopalhohn Primacy, Sar Alidrei?”  He started slightly, then rose and approached.  “Yes, sorry, I’m here.”

            “Excellent!”  Mrathyn clapped her upper set of hands.  “We are all quite fortunate to have survived, but I find it especially auspicious that all the designated representatives are among our number.  Your governments have reached out and been apprised of the current situation.  You have all received new orders, and I expect you’ll want time to decode and confirm them.”

            “Given the circumstances however your various acting ambassadors have conferred with ours and have determined that time is of the essence.  We’re not certain why this attack was launched but we cannot allow it to hinder our crucial mission.  For that reason we have agreed to dispatch the entire delegation now, before anything else can go wrong.”

            “Without our support staff?”  Alidrei seemed nervous.

            “Also, how will we proceed to our destination?  My government’s ship is not yet in position, and likely such is the case for many of our fellows.”  Petille’s tone was pointed.

            Mrathyn tucked her lower claws in tight to her torso.  “Yes, I am aware this is sub-optimal.  However the ambassadors agree that time is of the essence.  I urge you all to confer with them and confirm the truth of what I am relaying, but please do so quickly.  We all agree we should leave as soon as possible.”

            “As for our transportation, we will have to take a ship that is already available.  The Eormin government was going to dispatch one of our new Crimson Wind class ships, but none are currently in the system, and we don’t have time to wait.  Instead we’ll take the ENS Haze.  A slightly older ship, but I’ve been her captain for over a year and I can vouch for her quality and that of her crew.  We’ll get you there safely ladies and gentlemen.”

            “Will we have time to load cargo?  Given the fact that our mission parameters are mostly undefined I would appreciate being able to bring as much equipment support as possible.”  The major couldn’t keep a slight edge out of his voice.

            “Naturally.  Our cargo bay is at your disposal.”

            “Speaking of necessities, what about our principal?  Has anyone seen…him…since the attack began?”  Petille’s question was sardonic, but no less real for that.

            “The ambassadors were the only ones who had spoken to him in person, I believe.  Did any of them survive?”

            Mrathyn shook her head sadly at the AU rep.  “I’m afraid not.  For that reason we’re having difficulty determining where he is.”

            “He was in Secure Conference Room 4 when the attack occurred.”  Petille shrugged off the sharp looks his comment earned him.  “Our ambassador trusted me.”

            Mrathyn brought up a data slate.  “That’s in the damaged area.”

            “It is imperative that we ascertain his current condition.”

            “I agree with Sar Meera.  I was under the impression the ‘principal’ was at a secure location.  If this is not the case we need to take action immediately.”  The RC rep’s tone brooked no disagreement.

            “Perhaps it would be best if we representatives went and looked for him?  After all, if tragedy has struck it would be best if all the involved nations had a witness to report back to them?”  The intensity of Alidrei’s expression undercut the diffidence of his words.

            There was a general murmur of agreement and the group filed out.  Mrathyn acted as guide while they carefully picked their way through the debris and chaos, stopping frequently to explain their mission to the security cordons.  Finally though they reached their destination.

            The scene was not encouraging.  Mortar strikes had collapsed the entrance, and the room’s interior didn’t look much more intact.  There was no easy way in.

            The group sprang into action.  Mostly.  Meera glowed and grew, then began gingerly shifting rubble out of the way.  Erhec moved to assist her, pulling smaller debris out of her way with his good arm.  Mrathyn began speaking into her comm, ordering recovery personnel to bring equipment.  Alidrei poked around the edges, looking for an easier way in.  Petille stood back and watched, a mildly mocking smile pasted on his face.

            For her part Harrety had been staring at the ruin, pondering.  After a few minutes she shook her head wryly, looked something up on her data slate, then approached the pair trying to clear a path.  “This is probably silly, but let me try something for a moment.”

            The two exchanged glances, then backed away.  “Of course.”

            Harrety stepped up to the ruined doorway.  Cupping her hands to her mouth she shouted into the wreckage.  “Gaur!  This is the government representatives!  Are you alright?”

            Her only answer was silence.  She shrugged and turned back to the others.  “Worth a shot.”

            Any response was cut off as the ruined room abruptly collapsed.  A cloud of dust billowed out, coating and choking the representatives.  As they waved and coughed a light shone from the ruin in front of them, and a wave of heat blew the dust away.  The armored alien followed in its wake.

            His helmet panned back and forth.  “What happened while I was sleeping?” he asked mildly.

            “Sleeping?” Alidrei asked incredulously.  He looked behind at the still glowing wreckage.  There was an almost precisely Gaur-shaped corridor melted through it.  Astonishment was written across Alidrei’s features.  Ruefully he turned to the others.  “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

The Fall of Witguard Keep

When I was in college I had the opportunity to study for a semester in Austria.  While in Europe I had occasion to pass a graveyard where I noticed a tombstone with the name "Blankenstein" in large letters.  I made up a story about the man buried there and annoyed my friends.  (My new story also annoyed them.)  Years later the story had evolved substantially and I sat down and typed it out.  Although the inspiration remains the same this story is clearly no longer set in our world.  (Or is it?  Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn!  No.  No it's not.)

     Witguard Keep was on fire.  This was important for a number of reasons.  First, it meant that some utter catastrophe had befallen the fortress, for it was made primarily of stone and would not burn easily.  Second, it signaled the doom of the throngs that had sought sanctuary there, for to flee would have been worse than death, yet few could survive such an inferno.  Third, it revealed the demise of the majority Keep’s defenders, for they never would have let it burn so had they lived. 

     Mostly though, the fire was important because it gave the knight on top of the tower the light necessary to fight the vampires swarming around him.

     The trail of his begrudging retreat was marked by the corpses of vampiric thralls and winded its way from the Keep’s devastated gate across the width and breath of the courtyard, through the main hall, the living quarters, the library and then up the winding stair to the Keep’s predominant feature, a central tower, ending on the roof.  The same path was littered with liveried corpses showing that although the knight had not began his fierce defense alone, he was almost certainly the last defender breathing. 

     Those breaths came raggedly now, made painful and arduous by hours of combat against tireless foes, to say nothing of numerous superficial wounds and having witnessed the destruction of all he held dear.  Despite this his preternatural foes were clearly cautious, all their movements revealing respect for his abilities.  It was no accident that he was the final survivor. 

     One of the fallen feinted forward, but the knight ignored the movement completely, whirling to hew at a vampire behind who had moved to strike at his turned back.  His sword flashed and the target fell to the ground writhing in agony as his wound emitted oily smoke.  The knight fell to one knee and drove the long wooden stake in his left hand into the vampire’s heart, causing it to crumble to dust.  That foe eliminated the knight began to rise, but his movements had slowed greatly, and one of the other enemies lashed out with a wickedly barbed dagger, catching the knight with a jagged blow that slipped between his armored back-plates before dancing back.

     And so it went.  The knight fought on with all his remaining strength, but every foe pursued meant less energy, another wound suffered….and his foes never felt weary.  He slowed….and slowed………….and slowed.  Finally exhausted he staggered back and forth on the burning tower, barely able lift his sword, keeping the hell-spawn at bay only through the Holy symbols etched into his armor.  His wounds continued to seep blood and the vampires looked on hungrily. 

     Then, at a signal, they suddenly retreated.  An enormous bat flapped lazily towards the tower, stopping over the crenellations to blur and become tremendously handsome man.  His skin was pale but fair, and although his long, impeccably groomed hair was white he seemed quite young.  His clothing was the latest court dress immaculately tailored and all bright crimson.  On his left hip he wore a slender rapier whose barbs and hooks could be seen through the scabbard.  He smiled broadly at the sight of the knight, but there was no warmth in his expression.

     “To think it has come down to this,” he said gently, meandering slowly around the knight who barely managed to turn and keep him in view.  “After all we’ve been through, all the rises and falls of fortune….”  He looked contemplatively towards the sky.  “It could have gone the other way you know.  There was a time when your star was ascendant.  There was a time when I sought refuge, when each encounter with a hunting party was a time of difficult decision-making, whether to flee or risk an ambush.  When I sometimes went weeks or even months without feeding and my strength faded.”

     He suddenly pounced, drawing his weapon quicker than the eye could follow and batting at the knight’s sword with unbelievable speed.  The knight’s grip broke and the sword fell from his hand…only to dangle from a slender chain that attached it to his gauntlet.  A quick tug brought the sword hilt-up and in reach, and he seized it, turning the weapon’s momentum into a spinning slash at the other’s throat. 

     The vampire leapt backwards, the only damage inflicted on his clothing, and the knight slumped to one knee for a moment before doggedly pushing back to his feet.  The vampire smiled more broadly.  “I see you recall our last encounter.  An excellent improvement.  If only you had a bit more strength left, that might have actually worked.  You’ve feigned weakness before though.  This time I made certain to throw all our thralls at you first, to say nothing of the delightful dance you were just led through. 

     He looked suddenly speculative.  “Now where was I?  Oh yes.”  He resumed circling, stepping from crenellation to crenellation.  “There was a time when I believed you might actually win.  In the end though, it was your very dedication that did you in.  Everyone loved you as a protector, of that there can be no doubt.  Once you had protected them though, they began lose interest, didn’t they?”  He dashed forward to slash at the knight’s gauntlet then flitted back and resumed circling.

     “They didn’t see the need to protect others from me.  They didn’t think their family members should risk their lives to secure other peoples’ families.  They didn’t care what we did as long as we did it elsewhere.  They liked you as the protector, but not as a crusader, am I right?”  He lashed out again.

     “They thought some of your rules went too far.  The threat was gone now, and surely it wouldn’t return.  You were inconveniencing them.  So….”  Another swift attack, “…since you were off hunting us most of the time anyway, they subverted your rules.  Oh, your wife and your counselors….my most sincere condolences on your loss by the way….” He smiled sardonically.  “…they tried to stop them.  It was of no use of course.  As useless as your own reform efforts whenever you returned.  And fewer and fewer men would support your hunting parties, much less join them.”

     He lashed out again, his blade biting unnaturally deep into the gauntlet while he effortlessly evaded a clumsy counter-blow.  “Fewer men meant you had to spend more time to cover the same amount of ground.  You were quite good at it, I’ll give you that.  You continued to be a thorn in my side.”  Another smile.  “We clashed quite a few times then, didn’t we?”  He shook his head slowly.  “But eventually I evaded you.  You pursued me and you destroyed my kin, but I was circling back around.”

     “You know what I discovered?”  A slash to a weak point in the battered armor over the left leg slowed the knight’s movement even more.  “Some of your people were tired of fighting.  You wanted to do what was right.  They wanted to do what was easy.  So when I came along and they had failed to maintain defenses, they chose servitude and capitulation over death and righteousness.  And so my ranks swelled.”  Another attack on the gauntlet.

     “You had many true-believers, I’ll grant you that.  I was impressed by how quickly you rallied.  It was a long hard road beating you back to this keep.  Your defense of the Eastern farmlands was brilliant.  I can’t believe you held it for two years.”  A slash to the left shoulder left blood seeping out of the armor.  “To say nothing of your defense of the Keep.  The way you destroyed my siege weapons during the fifth attack was amazing.  Insane of course, but amazing.  And that final breakthrough as cover for your best men to slip out and request help?  Pure gold.  I caught all seven of them of course, but still.” 

     He looked at the knight’s expression and smiled again.  “If it makes you feel any better some of them made quite a credible attempt.  You would be proud….” His rapier licked forward, skewering the chain and sundering it before sweeping the blade once again from the knight’s hand. “…if I hadn’t just systematically destroyed everyone you loved and everything you ever accomplished.”  He gingerly nudged the fallen sword over the side of the tower with his own weapon.  “No more of that.”

     Two lightning quick slashes attacked the knight’s knees, and swift kick sent him crashing to the stones.  The vampire stabbed the knight’s left wrist and rolled the released stake to the edge of the tower, out of reach.  His smile turned predatory.  “I don’t know how clearly you can still think.  It’s been some time since I had to worry about being tired.  Still, if you can think you’re probably wondering what I can actually have left to do to you.  Well, as it turns out, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering the same thing, and I came up with something wonderfully elegant.  That warded armor is in the way though…”

     His tone turned cold and mocking.  “Did I say I used ALL my thralls to tire you out?  My mistake.  I saved one for just this contingency, and I think I hear him coming up the stairs now.  I can’t touch your armor, but he can.”  He pointed, and a third figure emerged on the tower’s roof.  It carried chains, pitons and a hammer, and began throwing the chains over the fallen knight and securing them to the stone.  “You probably don’t remember him, but once he served in one of your hunting parties.  His heart wasn’t really in it though, and when I slaughtered the rest of his group he said he’d do anything….”  The vampire smiled again as the third figure finished with the chains and carefully removed the knight’s helmet before leaving silently.  “He certainly kept his end of the bargain.  I think I may turn him, give him little shot of immortality as a reward.  That’s your key problem, really.  You can only offer rewards in heaven.  I offer very tangible gratification.”

     He kneeled over the knight’s head, leaned down and drank deeply.   After a time he stood, licking his lips.  “Almost as good as I imagined it.  Listen, I know you’re pretty far gone, but I didn’t take it all.  I did start the change though.  So here’s your dilemma.  If you do nothing you’re going to change soon and become like me.  That’s the easiest path really.  If you can get past the shame the pain will go away.”  His smile turned ugly.  “Of course, this storm I conjured is only going to last another day or two, so if you do change the sunlight will burn you alive, so you’ll have succumbed for nothing.  On the other hand….”

     He carefully nudged the knight’s fallen stake back within reach, taking care to stay out of reach himself.  “…if you work hard you can probably free a hand and reach this, allowing you an infallible way to keep yourself from changing.  Of course, suicide is a sin though….”  He laughed uproariously.  “Good, isn’t it?  That’s my final gift to you- a choice that damns you no matter what you do.  I look forward to hearing which evil you end up embracing, but I can’t stick around to watch.  I need to secure my control of the area and replenish the ranks so that another….you…..never arises.  Good luck with your decision!”  Laughing again he jumped off the tower and moments later a giant bat winged away.

    History has forgotten the name of the knight.  It says only that Viscount Lamorte eventually defeated the last hold-outs and carved out a kingdom, heroically increasing both its borders and its power.  The knight is portrayed both as an opponent of progress and as utterly defeated by the powerful Vampire Lord.  One legend however, tells a different tale.  It says that three days after the final battle the storm dissipated and sunshine filled the land.  One of the knight’s trusted retainers, gravely injured but alive, crept from the burnt ruins of the Keep.  Following the trail of corpses he climbed to the top of the tower.  There he found his lord’s corpse, neither staked nor dust.  Instead it was surrounded by Holy symbols written in the knight’s own blood.  The source of the blood was not difficult to ascertain, for the knight had used the stake to carve the symbols into his very body.  The retainer is said to have taken the corpse and buried it in a secret location that he took to his own grave.  The legend lives on, telling that through these actions the knight was able to evade the fate Lamorte had chosen for him, defying the Vampire even in death.