We Need a Deathworlder!

Using her available access to the security streams, Chak views within the communications station room at least two comm-operator Terrans with sidearms and one armored soldier acting as security.

Outnumbered and outgunned… but she does have the element of surprise. Evaluating her options, she figures the door may be mostly silent, but there’s still a good chance her entrance will be noticed.

This is likely going to be a fight regardless.

Missing the protectiveness of her helmet more than ever, Chak takes a deep breath and readies herself to make a bold charge into the next room.

But then, an idea hits her before her hand makes contact with the indicator.

From within, the soldier looks at his bracelet screen depicting some of the heaviest fighting while the comm-operators relay occasional updates with security monitoring teams and assurances of their own system’s integrity from the foreign A.I presence.

“It’s starting to look dicey…” The soldier comments as the invading forces gradually push their way towards the center tower structure.

“Won’t be for long.” one of the operators informed assuringly.

The soldier perks up at the sound of the door opening behind them, only to catch sight of something clacking across the floor.

Raising his rifle he jumps back, expecting a grenade. But instead he sees a standard issue Combine plasma rifle that had been partially disassembled.

Though his attention isn’t on it for long as he sees a Cali with her four arms raised in surrender. The two operators have also jolted around with their sidearms aimed directly at the non-Deathworlder, offering support for the soldier to conduct what has to be done.

Stepping forward with caution, the soldier opens his comm to leadership.

“Location of the Cali Pr-” is all he manages to say before Chak closes her eyes and uses her Lens to remotely activate the casted plasma rifle’s firing mechanism.

She recalls the night she and Simone spent together bundled up on Hoth-2 with nothing to keep them warm other than each other and a correctly modified plasma pistol. Simone warned that if done incorrectly, then the pistol would have been little more than a glorified hand grenade.

Well… Chak determines now would be the best opportunity to see how much of an exaggeration that was.

Although stepping around the rifle, the resulting explosion of raw plasma erupts well over the soldier and creates a blinding wall of blistering heat between the Cali and operators.

In that moment Chak snatches her pulse rifle hidden against the wall just out of sight and begins opening fire on where she remembers seeing the three individuals standing.

Though she only hears the guttural impact strike one.

Ducking behind the door frame for cover she waits a moment before taking another quick aim, set on shooting at anyone still standing, however no one is.

The soldier is little more than a writhing charred husk, while one operator lays in shock with their arms mostly missing. The third individual is clearly the one Chak shot, having a crumpled torso and collapsed back over a control panel.

Hurrying in and not granting herself to consider alternative acts of mercy, Chak ends the soldier’s suffering with a decisive shot to his head and follows up with the armless operator. The operator seems to try and say something, perhaps beg for their life or curse her out, Chak will never know as their brain matter becomes another stain on the damaged floor.

With a hefty push, Chak forces the already dead body off the control panel and gets to work.

What she just did might have been a war crime in certain circles, however she doesn’t put her thoughts on that path. The stakes are far too high and these people seek galactic-wide enslavement. There’s no time to linger on the morals of these vital moments.

Connecting her Lens to the system and closing the door to the room behind her, Chak hopes that she isn’t too late.

“Seymour? I believe it’s all ready for you.” she informs the connected A.I.

“Indeed it is.” the masculine voice responds, already beginning to invade and conquer the entire communication system.

Within moments, Chak notices her own personal comms begin to receive signals.

“Simone!?” she attempts immediately before verifying with Seymour if the jamming has truly been taken offline.

“Chak! You made it!” Simone’s loud and relieved voice responds.

The Cali’s eyes gray, thankful to her her wife’s voice again as well.

“I did… I may have committed a war crime to do so… but I did.” Chak chuckles as she sits down in one of the operator’s seats.

“That’s my girl!” A crying Simone cheers, “I have your location, but I don’t think I‘ll be able to get there very soon. Something is happening with this station and we’re pushing to stop it.”

“Okay, then after I catch my breath I’ll head that way as well.” Chak informs.

“If you think you can, but if you need to, don’t hesitate to lock yourself up and barricade in for me to come get ya-” Simone responds before her voice just gives out.

“Simone!? What’s wrong!? Are you okay!?” Chak says in worried urgency.

After a few moments of concerning silence, the redhead manages to speak up again.

“We’re too late…" Simone utters her thoughts aloud.

-

Chucknuq’s scales pale in hue as he witnesses all the station’s towers light up in immense energy before the forks briefly connect to the center with transferring beams of radiating light.

The center tower then projects the energy ‘upwards’ so that a pinpoint of light suspends the entire station.

Some ships flee the area while others double down on focusing their efforts in trying to destroy at least one of the towers in hopes to halt the process.

However it’s clearly of no use as the pinpoint rapidly expands into a circular screen of bluish hue.

A wormhole of enormous prepositions opens to reveal another place as though gazing through a window fit for gods. On the other side something magnificently terrifying approaches.

A grand vessel of gold, pearl and purple crests through. It’s over twice the size of the largest Terran ship present, shaped like four grand religious cathedrals merged at their foundations to create an extravagant ‘✖’ on top of a spiky rectangular front profile. In fact along the sides the ship is adorned in many spike-like structures, like thorny scales of a behemoth dragon of the void that is space.

At its front are four maw-like structures already leaking or drooling out excess purple ‘liquid lightning’.

Four smaller yet formidable sized ships join through the portal, representing what can only be described as spiked covered ‘leviathans’ in shape and form, including their own forward facing maws emitting the same destructive purple substance.

As the flagship fully passes through, it rams straight through a Union Challanger-class ship like a hammer through a plaster brick, erupting the Terran vessel into two imploding pieces.

Despite everything… all efforts… sacrifices… triumphs… alliances… it was not enough.

The Manarians have finally arrived.

The defenders of the galaxy rush to organize an offensive, but are alas not fast enough to react to the four maws of the Manarian flagship flash in intensity before casting out its own attack.

“All power to shields!” Chucknuq roars in command to not only his ship, but all who could receive his broadcast.

Each of the aggressor’s maws fire out directed blasts of this strange liquid lightning that splinter out like branches of the largest tree in existence. Every ship that is caught in it, either explodes or severely scars in bright flashes, becoming the glorious leaves and blooming flowers of the destructive ethereal violet tree.

Without the immense loss of life, morale, and hope… any onlooker would consider the sight beautiful. Magnificent even.

Chucknuq is forcibly sent flying forward as the Z’ah’tuck flagship is struck. He thrashes against the floor in a harsh tumble as the interior lighting and other vital systems die.

By the time he comes to a stop against the hologram projection platform, he feels the insides of his entire arm and shoulder be pounded into fragments and much from the halting impact.

Grunting in the pitch darkness, the backup systems thankfully boot up, granting minimal light and gravity.

“High Admiral!” Sreiak barks in her own recovery as she hurries over to evaluate him.

Blinking and suppressing the intense pain, Chucknuq looks around at his surroundings in a haze. However his sight focuses on his cap next to him. It had fallen off from the thrashing, but still seemingly followed him.

He stares at it for a few moments before a small smile crosses his wide face.

“Heh… so that’s how it’s going to be… glorious indeed.” he whispers as his unharmed arm reaches out and takes hold of the cap tightly.

The Z’ah’tuck compatriot attempts to look him over for lethal injury, but he merely waves such concerns away as he stands back up.

“No time for that, what’s our status!?” he orders out to the bridge crew.

“All primary systems are completely down and we’re down to manual control input. Backup systems are still in the process of booting up, but we may have just enough reserve power to be able to make an emergency FTL retreat jump.” an officer reports back to him.

“Perfect. Can we get a restored visual?” the Tromple inquires.

“In a few moments.” another officer confirms.

Chucknuq nods.

“Are we really retreating? After all that?” Sreiak says to both Chucknuq and herself.

“No one said such a thing. This battle has yet to be decided, not yet.” The High Admiral assures before a dim flicking hologram of the scene restores itself.

The spikes of the smaller Manarian ships are now detaching and swarming, revealing themselves to be types of dart-like fighter and transport crafts.

The station is being rained upon much like how the Union did earlier, but now with a new enemy deploying.

And on top of all that, the great maws of the Manarian flagship are charging up once more to fire another devastating blow towards an untouched patch of fleets.

Sreiak lowers her head, crestfallen.

“It’s over, Chucknuq. Perhaps if we broadcast for urgent help and regroup… maybe we could stand a chance.” she says solemnly.

“No.” the Tromple responds bluntly, “It’s not over. This is merely our final test. The Manarians have the whole galaxy surrounded with untold amounts of ships, this isn’t yet the proper invasion. These have been summoned here, likely to evaluate the situation and make the call. So…” he turns to look at his fellow Admiral, “I say we show em everything we have, and regardless of who’s left standing, they will know we are not primed to be so easily broken and that their opportunity has already passed them by. We press our attack, to victory, and perhaps to death.”

Sreiak stares at him for a moment before nodding.

“A great beast stands at the mouth of a cave, and our nest rests behind us. We dissuade the beast by making it too much effort. Very well.” she agrees, the clear sense of acceptance in her eyes, “What weapons do we have online?” she asks the crew.

“None at the moment, but repair teams are working on that right now-” an offer reports before another urgently interrupts.

“Something’s dropping out of FTL! And it’s massive, but too concentrated to be another fleet!”

The flickering display zeros in on the calculated location, right next to the massive Manarian ship.

Dropping out of FTL while still maintaining an aggressive forward momentum, an entity that almost rivals the size of the Manarian flagship charges directly for it.

It’s a mass of familiar stone-like material, though never in its long existence has it known such a sheer scale of size or might.

Vermis in a rage that festered in hundreds of thousands of years opened up the front of its mass like a gigantic splitting maw crashes and latches onto the Manarian’s flagship with such force it crashes into two of the accompanying escort ships without time to evade.

The two serpent-like vessels shatter in bluish purple explosions that meet the vacuum of space and scar the flagship with very visible damage.

It’s like watching an animal the size of a small moon catch its prey and attempt to crush it. Though the flagship holds up well otherwise and fires its four forward weapons as though in a panicked retaliation.

Two fire in one previously intended direction, branching out now destroying bothe friend and foe alike. The other two blasts manage to curl around in an impossible manner and strike the titanic Vermis structure.

The liquid lightning tears and burns it like it’s made of mere paper mache. Despite the might it had moments ago, the Vermis entity as a whole is compromised. The integrity of the entire creature fails to join back up and instead embraces pulling itself apart to shatter and aid in the battle in any other way it can.

“For a moment I thought… perhaps… Vermis would…" Sreiak utters in both awe and dread.

“Defeat our largest foe for us? Were it so easy, heheheh.” Chucknuq replies in a chuckling sigh, “Regardless, Vermis gave us a better chance. Status on weapons?”

“I’m afraid… the repair teams have reported that none are functional or repairable at this time.” an officer replies in dismay.

Closing his eyes, Chucknuq nods.

“So be it.” he sighs, “All hands, evacuate the ship immediately.” he orders as he moves towards the manual controls.

“What?” Sreiak questions, “What happened to not retreating?”

“We’re not retreating. Just rearranging.” the Tromple assures, “Evacuate now, and serve upon other more capable ships if possible.

Although his authority technically outracked hers, the crew all look to Sreiak for the final say on whether to commit to that order.

“Is there anything I can say to dissuade you, sir?” she asks the High Admiral.

“I’m afraid not, not with a galaxy to save and a family to preserve. And I’m a rather stubborn fool, hehahaha!” Chucknuq responds as he looks down at his cap.

Sreiak looks to the floor and nods once before turning to the crew and patching in to the local ship comm network.

“Emergency full evacuation, I repeat, full evacuation. Head for the escape pods and shuttles, transmitting for recovery from ally vessels.” she states before putting that on loop.

The bridge crew immediately get up from their seats and exit out the back entrance, but Sreiak approaches the Tromple’s side.

“Allow me to accompany you, sir. Just in case. You only have one good arm after all.” she requests sternly, though the man didn’t seem at all persuaded.

“I’m afraid I must deprive you of that honor, Admiral Sreiak. Forgive me, but I have a specific mission in mind for you.” he replies as he massages his grasper’s fingers on the brim on his headwear.

The Z’ah’tuck tilts her head.

“What is it that you ask of me?” she asks.

Chucknuq slowly holds out his cap to the woman for her to take.

“Return this, when you are able.” he requests in a sincere tone.

Looking down at it, the Z’ah’tuck accepts it with the utmost respect in her own clawed graspers.

For a few moments she gazes upon it, before coming to a subtle realization.

“I will do so, High Admiral.” she concedes before placing her free hand on his shoulder, “Hunt well for the songs, for there will be many to carry your legacy.” she says in a deeply respectful farewell.

Chucknuq’s smile broadens.

“Indeed, I intend to.” he replies as he sets his grasper on the resting arm and gives it a gentle pat, “You are worthy of your rank, may your career put mine to shame before its end, heheheh.”

Giving the honorable man one last nod, the woman strides off in a hurry with the item tucked against her chest like a holy relic.

-

All around her, Simone can feel within every being a sense of deep fear and dread. Not only because of the enemy reinforcements, but who those reinforcements are and the encoding they instilled upon the peoples of the galaxy.

The battle to stop an invasion, has now become the first battle of the invasion. Even in her resisting nature, the redhead can’t help but feel like the biggest carpet of all time has been pulled from under her feet.

Hope is hard to hold on to, slipping more and more with every passing second.

Deployments of Manarians come down clad in superior armor and weapons and from formations to withstand and press back. Like Terran roman soldier of old, they favor forming walls of handheld shields and advancing while simultaneously opening fire.

Their armors are sleek and graceful with their trademark colors. Yet they seemingly need hing-held antigrav tech to counter the weight.

They widely ignore their Terran and Malchite allies, seemingly confident that they are not necessary factors for victory.

And so far, they are being proven correct.

The Manarian form presence is enough to break the combative spirits of many species. Deathworlder or not, even the Union Warthogs begin to lose ground, cursed by a fear that strikes deep on a genetic level. If they were warned of the encoding’s effects, many weren’t truly ready for it.

Simone and her old comrades take shelter behind a barrier as a line of organized Manarians open fire in their location. A hidden, especially brave Terran squad attempts to charge the wall from the side, but unfortunately the Manarian’s hearing perception picks them up before they can get close. Support soldiers behind the marching walls with no shields take aim and obliterate the Terran ambush in a cast of liquid lightning and plasma.

The last surviving tries to cast a grenade, but it’s swiped out of the air by a lashing armored tail, knocking it against the barrier Simone hides behind.

It explodes upon impact, though the barrier holds true.

“At least even with their wings tucked they are a bigger target, no wonder they need shields…” Thorn muses bitterly.

“I don’t think we can fall back without exposing ourselves.” Devin informs while in the midst of repairing a rifle.

“So die with shots in our front or our back? Lovely…” Brandy quips, swallowing the dread gripping at her heart.

“We were so close… one last big push and we might have made it…” Simone utters as she leans the brow of her helmet into her robotic fist.

“Hey.” Thorn heavily pats on the redhead’s pauldron, “It’s not over yet. We have comms now and Vermis is in the fight now too. We just need to hold on for it to give us a hand down here.” he reminds.

“Yeah… yeah…” Simone nods, trying to rile herself back into the right mindset, “Sorry, it’s just… Feels like we lost.”

“Well we haven’t, right? So let’s keep our heads in the game until we lose ‘em.” Thorn says before twisting onto a knee and aims an arm over the barrie, “Ready yourselves.”

His cyan eye lights up before a thunderous string of miniature missiles blast forth, Half hammer right for the wall of shields while the other rises up and straight down on those behind it.

A ripple of impressive explosions pop off, sending the line wall into complete disarray.

“Now!” the cyborg man instructs.

The rest of the Terrans in the team arise to open fire. Thankfully although the Manarian’s armor is impressive, plasma is still effective enough to cause serious damage.

Rebuilding the wall as best they can, the line starts to fall back.

As Simone continues to hammer against them with the rest of her comrades, a call comes directly to her, or at least that’s what she first believes. But it becomes clear that everyone on her side is receiving.

“The stars are watching, and history will judge us by the outcomes we make today. Let our efforts be a testament to the enduring power of our spirit and the possibility of a universe where justice, peace, and hope prevail.” Chucknuq’s voice carries proudly, “On this battlefield we face a challenge that demands a united front, a coalition of all nations and peoples standing as one against a common threat. The FSA, Central, and even those seeking redemption of the Cali. For in unity, we find strength, and in self-serving fear-driven separation, we risk our very existence as we know it.”

Chak’s eyes widen as she watches via hologram Chucknuq’s flagship recklessly navigate through carnage and battle to the side of the Manarian flagship.

“Chucknuq, what are you doing?” she attempts to comm back to him.

“Let us forge an unbreakable bond against this adversary, founded on the shared understanding that our survival depends on our ability to transcend our stark yet wonderful differences. Not once in our history have all these peoples and species fought together on the same side of conflict, under the same banner!” Chucknuq continues, “Let hope carry all of you! Every step forward, every breath ahead, there will be no defeat until you all let that go! I urge you all at this moment to charge forth!”

“Chucknuq, please! Answer me!” Chak begs as the FTL engines light up, yet are incorrectly prepared by intention.

The man takes aim at the ship directly for the exposing damage from the friendly-collision caused by Vermis.

Taking notice of the ship, the Manarians beset his smaller ship with dart craft and volleys of defensive fire.

“Chak. Simone. I am without any doubt that you will succeed in what you’ve set out to do. Or that you will raise the most wonderful children the universe has ever seen. Hmhahaha.” he addresses directly as he stands on his shaking bridge.

A portion of the back ceiling explodes from something rupturing.

“Please don’t… I need you…” Chak pleads, now harshly crying into her comm, “Please… please… you don’t have to do this, our kids need their grandpa… I need my father!”

There's a brief pause of silence.

“You’ve always been my daughter, even before the universe turned against you. Chakalata’Thatch, I’m so proud of who you were and who you have arisen to become. I’m sorry that I will not be there to see your kids grow. But that is not a regret I will hold, because I will do anything to ensure they grow up at all. And this, I hope, will make that happen.” Chucknuq responds softly.

Chak hugs her body with all of her arms, hunching over in a sob.

“I love you!” she shouts, wanting to say so much more, but… it wasn’t already anything he didn’t know.

“And I love you, Chak. Continue to be strong. Mourn me as you will, but promise me to remember to celebrate. I didn’t lead the life I did to only leave tears on my grave! Bwhahaha!” he says as he presses on the jump sequence.

“We will, Captain.” Simone’s shaking voice assures, “Thank you, for everything.”

“Aye-aye. As they say, keep moving forward. It’s been an honor to know you, Simone.” Chucknuq says before addressing everyone again.

He’s terrified in these moments, he cannot deny it to himself. But he’s been afraid many times, like allowing Chak to depart the ship all by herself in search for a Deathworlder.

And look how that turned out.

She’ll be fine this time as well.

They all will.

His slightly shaking grasper ensures he openly broadcasts towards the Manarian ship before it lifts up in a salute while he faces his final foe. A huge smile spreads across his face, his regrets melting away with pride.

The ship rattles inside and out as the faulty FTL jump commences.

“As High Admiral of the Cali fleet, Captain of the Kwip-chap, proud father and grandparent, I bid you bastards welcome to the Milky Way! BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”

In a moment quicker than a blink of an eye, the Z’ah’tuck flagship disappears and the side of the Manarian vessel collapses inwards before an enormous explosion blows out the other side.

A chain reaction of violent purple energy surges from within, causing a followup star-like explosion that brightens the ‘sky’ to the point where the majority of fighting on the station comes to a pause to behold it.

The juggernaut of a vessel fragments into several massive lazily drifting chunks.

Simone blinks fresh tears out of her eyes as she watches the residual aftermath. Then, looking to the others, she gives a nod to them.

“We need to get into that tower.” she says.

“One last push?” Brandy assumes eagerly.

“As many as it takes…” Simone clarifies before broadcasting to all of the forces, Union or FSA, that are on the station, “This is Simone Thatch, we press, and don’t stop. No more ships are coming through that portal, got it?” she orders, not knowing if she has that kind of authority.

But as she readies herself, a string of non-verbal confirmations reply and she can already see many species charging against the defending forces of the tower. Union Terrans included.

Brandishing her pistol, Simone lurches over the barrier and charges as well.

The grand maneuver is a costly one, as she already sees people of almost every species getting shot or caught in plasma explosions.

But the masses keep going until they eventually clash with Manarians and their allied forces.

Meeting up next to a Borkon, Simone joins in their efforts in hammering a handheld wall of Manarian shields.

Bursting through it she and her fellow line-break are met with graspers and blades. However her team comes crashing in support, followed by a storm of inspired soldiers which lessened the attention on her specifically.

Although contributing to the fight is important, Simone keeps her main goal in mind and keeps moving for the base of the tower.

The once organized Manarain defenses fall apart as the fighting devolves into a crazed and brutal onslaught.

Feeling as though she has equal chances of getting hit intentionally or with a stray shot, Simone keeps moving forward and honestly hopes for the bes.

Dodging and shooting, she scrambles through the escalating chaos until she nears the base of the tower and sees the large opening doors.

This brings immediate concern that there’s going to be enemy reinforcements spilling out, but beyond them there’s not a single defender within.

Figuring that to be very strange, but not refusing to divert her path she bolts through them.

She glances back to see that the doors are now closing at an alarming rate, but at least her personal team have managed to keep up with her along with a dozen or so fellow soldiers.

Still moving, she reaches a central circular elevator of the open space she’s in. Reaching out she presses the indicator and turns to address her team.

But, this place is of Manarian construction. They apparently don’t like ambient noises, because the elevator opens swiftly and ever so silently.

“Red behind you!” Thorn shouts thunderously as he and everyone else aims their weapons past her.

Her legs twitch to jump out of the way, but just before she can, a blue chitin claw strikes through her armor, shoulder and clean through her other side.

Numerous fifteen foot minimum male Malachite storms out of the elevator to meet those now trapped in this place, all the while the fifteen foot tall male pulls the fully skewered redhead up off her feet and into the elevator.

“Fuckfacemgee… you’ve been expected…” the Malchite screeches in glee.

Slamming her arm down on the pincer that stabbed her, she broke right on through it and landed on her feet. Yet unfortunately the door had already re-sealed.

Backing away, she opens direct fire upon the massive blue Malchite.

As the overcharged plasma causes significant damage, the giant crab disregards his previous orders and happily engages in a good fight.

Rolling to the side as the crab charges her, Simone pops shots over and over at the face and joints.

Her attack causes a larger pincer arm to separate and crash into the floor.

“What do you mean I was expected!?” she shouts now that the crab only had two smaller arms and one remaining broken larger pincer.

Instead of replying, the crab roars and charges her again.

This time, Simone charges back and slides under the quad legs. In a smooth motion she activates and sweeps her sword blade clean through one pair of legs.

Rolling again she gets back to her feet and readies her blade while watching the titan screech and crash down on his side.

“Listen here you overgrown bottomless crab leg basket… I’m not in the fucking mood! Tell me what the fuck you meant or I’m bringing out a bucket of melted garlic butter!” she threatens.

The blue crustacean menace starts to aggressively and awkwardly crawl at her with no intent of exchanging words.

Sighing, Simone aims her blade and lurches forward, driving it right into the Malchite’s face. He seizes up and twitches entire limbs, but the redhead is confident that he’s dead.

Deactivating her sword, she gets a sense of what’s going on. Now that she wasn’t being murdered by a butterless bastard, the sense of the elevator moving is all too clear to her.

“Thorn!? Devin!? Brandy!? Are you still alive down there?” she speaks into her comm.

“Handling it! You good!?” Brandy shouts back.

Simone sighs in relief. Though the danger for her friends has not passed yet… they are still kicking. That’s the important part.

“Yeah, hurt but handled it. Need me to come back down with the elevator?” she offers, looking for any indication of buttons or panels.

“Best not. Too many crabs between us and the elevator. We’ll follow once this is dealt with.” Devin informs.

Biting her cheek Simone nods.

“Got it. Good luck.” she replies.

“You too.” Thorn grunts in a chuckle, We’ll update when we can.”

Addressing her wound, Simone brings up her suit’s medical response screen. Following its instructions, she takes hold of the spear of chitin and yanks it free. Normally not something one should do, but her suit immediately sealed up the massive wound with stem foam and the undersuit material closed itself tightly. Though it stiffens the area a bit, she isn’t going to bleed out and the pain is mostly nullified.

She checks her pistol, seeing it didn’t get a good break between all those shots. The front end is glowing bright, and she can tell their internals are likely at risk of getting fucked up.

Hostering it for now, she gripped her sword hilt tightly while waiting for a door to silently open.

“I’ll get this done, Chucknuq… you glorious bastard… I promise.” she whispers to herself.

She knows the gravity of the loss hasn’t hit her yet, there’s too much going on to address those heavy feelings.

But once she and Chak are together again and safe, then they can process it together. Though at the thought to Chak she couldn’t help but open a call to her.

“Hun?” she says.

“Simone… he’s gone…” a terribly somber Cali replies, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I know, I’m so sorry love. I’m alive. Got split up from everyone, but I’m on my way up the tower. I’m going to destroy this place and come right to you. Okay?” Simone says, forcing a smile to aid in her comforting tone.

“Okay… uhm… I… had to leave.” Chak replies after clearing her throat, “Seymour said Malchite were coming. I’m going to get as close to the tower as possible. Maybe come get you if I need to.” she chirps with a small chuckle.

“Sounds good. Let’s both stay standing for a bit longer, okay? We’re almost there.” Simone assures, though she felt like she was telling herself that.

“We are. Most of us are… I love you.” Chak says.

“I love you too.” Simone finishes before noticing the door opening, “Gotta go. Contact you soon.”

Forcing herself to end the call, Simone moves on to her mission. Though she’s not able to even step out before halting in place.

A helmeted woman is casually standing in the center of a big open space, before her a simple golden podium and large hardlight screens. The walls of the place are pearl white and rounded convexly, as though viewing within a tire.

However there are outcropping doorways both on the left and right sides, meaning there’s more to this place than this weird room.

“About time, I was certain you would have made it before the first Empire ships arrived-” Ember says before silencing to the sounds of a dashing armored woman charging her.

But she doesn’t move from her spot, and as Simone nears the redhead is grabbed by the head and yanked down on her back with violent force.

Retaliating, Simone unseals her hemet and squirms herself free to suddenly be face to face with a Manarian. A male, if the patterns on his wings are anything to go by.

He’s wearing armor like those below, but Simone can tell from its more bulky design that it enhances his strength much like hers.

This is confirmed when he inspects her relinquished helmet in his tail grasper before crushing it with some effort.

“Not bad. Not comparable, but not bad.” he says in Manarian, to which Simone realizes she can understand perfectly.

“I don’t suppose you will just surrender?” Ember asks her daughter, “It would make things so much quicker and… cleaner.”

“Eat shit you fucking bitch… I’m gonna kill you and stop all of this bullshit. It’s ending now!” Simone retorted before activating her sword again.

Ember looks down with a sigh of genuine pity.

“You certainly inherited your father’s brains… well, aside from what I had to add.” she shrugs before looking back up at the screen, “You know what to do.” she directs at the Manarian.

“Indeed. But let’s make it more interesting…” the Manarian smirks as he draws out his own blade, but his is of a physical dark metal and lined with hooked barbs.

Despite wanting to do nothing but chop Ember’s head off, Simone places her focus on the far more dangerous opponent. His armor is likely far more superior to hers, meaning she’ll need every edge.

Taking hold of the sword’s crossguard, she twists it around a hundred and eighty degrees. The subtle glow of the ‘Clarent’ engraving fades and on the other side ‘Excalibur’ faintly lights up.

The emerald green blade chokes out momentarily before being replaced by a red one. It’s still crystal, but now it crackles from added plasma.

This state isn’t meant to be used for prolonged periods of time, as it may ruin the sword all together, but Simone figures this situation is as good as any to go for it.

“Who the fuck are you anyway?” she spits at her opponent as she assumes a wide stance.

“I’m Ember’s handler, Ashia.” the man responds with some sense of respect towards the redhead, “The fight may be quick, but I’m afraid your suffering may prolong until the task is done.”

“Sure, thanks...” Simone responds in dark sarcasm before rushing in to attack.

Well, she intended to feign an attack, but seeing a blur of a striking tail come right for her she had to move to counter it.

But before she knows it, her chest was warm and wet.

The Manarian has closed the distance and already finished with the first swing of his blade.

The barbs’ tips are red with bits of other material stuck to them.

Moving back, Simone extends the length of her blade to operate at more distance. That tail is going to be a problem in terms of reach, but at least she might be able to buy slivers of moments to react to his advances.

Her armor is in the middle of treating the new wound when the Manarian moves up again.

Deflecting the swing this time, Simone tired for a slash against the man’s gut.

However in mid swing, the next thing she remembers is hammering against the ground with immense force and dragged up by her leg only to be smashed down on the floor again.

“Careful of the head!” Ember snaps, “Just… stop playing and finish this.”

“No fun…?” Ashia sighs before flipping the prone redhead over and addressing her directly, “You’re a proven warrior Simone, but you are out of your scope of capability. Surrender.” he offers.

“Fuck you!” Simone wheezes as she spits out blood and lashes her sword up at the opponent's tail holding her leg.

Swiftly, an armored foot cracks a kick at her hand, casting her sword away like a discarded toy.

“No thanks, one ape is enough of a novelty for me.” he chuckles before rotating his blade downward and in a single motion runs through the Terran’s gut until it dings into the floor under her.

Simone screams out briefly before trying to hammer kicks up at the bat-person. Though he takes them without too much effect.

With his opponent pinned, the Manarian kneels down, flicking a triangular device between his three fingers as though doing pencil tricks.

“There’s many reasons as to why your species is as impressive as they are. Yet are still destined to be servants to the Empire and its Grand Destiny. You fought well, but it was never going to be enough.”

Simone desperately grabbed the man’s hand as he aimed to put that familiar device to her forehead.

Yet, like during the fight, he’s a step ahead.

As she grabs his arm with both of hers, he slaps his free hand with a hidden identical device to her forehead.

Simone starts to reach up to pull it off, but before she can the blade in her gut is torn free with a slight twist of the barbs. A stream of red escapes as the blade is freed, with chunks of what looks to be intestines as well.

“It’s ready.” he informs.

Simone’s suit does its best to stop her bleeding, but stem foam without something so traumatic can only do so much.

“NO!” Simone roars as she digs to pull the device off her head, but she feels a painful jab into her skull as it locks in place.

“I’m sorry, Simone. I really am. You’re a dreamer like your father.” Ember says as she presses a single indicator on a screen, “But dreamers have to wake up eventually.”

Simone’s eyes go completely blank from consciousness for a moment. Then in a few sudden blinks it’s restored.

Smiling, Sharra takes her first breath after tens of thousands of years.