Date point: 4y 11m 1w 6d AV
00h 00m 30s BA
“Frank, when you get into the suit, Ted has something for you. I also strapped your crowbar to the back of your suit. I don’t want you without a weapon if shit goes south.”
Frank huffed slightly, looking at Jason as they descended down to the slave city.
“I’ll be fine kid. What does Ted have for me?” he grumbled.
“He brought back some stuff from the pirate ship we took, while you were still recovering.”
Ted walked onto the flight deck, having heard what Jason had said, and grinned apprehensively.
“Frank, you’re gonna love it.” he said.
“Whatever, kid. Let’s just get this done.”
They’d just entered the atmosphere, watching the other ships, flying on all sides, through the monitors.
In spite of needing to be in the cargo hold to get ready, Ted and Jason couldn’t help watching the ground come up at them.
The city was massive.
It resembled an airplane graveyard, tightly packed and welded together. Catwalks and pathways were draped everywhere, all stemming from the center of the city, which was a gaping sore in the landscape that had been surrounded by weaponry.
“Jesus, we’re really doing this.” whispered Ted.
Jason snapped out of it.
“Time to go. Now. Ted, come to the cargo bay with me.”
Without looking back, he moved through the cramped hallway to the cargo bay, to where the gear they had laid out before hand was.
Their side arms were already buckled on, but when they’d taken the slaver ship, they’d brought a stock of pulse pistols and rifles, which felt almost like toys in their hands, and several short fusion blades.
“If we weren’t about to raid a slaver camp, I’d say we were going to look fucking ridiculous.” muttered Jason.
They didn’t speak as they slung the rifles over their backs, and strapped the pulse pistols and the fusion blades onto the hip opposite their T.A.S.E.R.s.
The sound of explosions began to rock through the ship, and Ted’s hands began to shake.
Seeing this, Jason walked up to Ted.
“Ted, stay close to me. At all times. Do not ever let me out of your sight, and you will be alright. I promise.”
Swallowing hard, Ted nodded and said, “Let’s do it.”
The ship suddenly shifted as it landed.
A great racket could be heard outside of the door, and Frank came running into the cargo bay.
Running to his suit, Frank put it on and activated it, stomping over to Ted and Jason, who were standing next to the air lock.
Pointing at the object next to the door, Ted said to Frank, “There’s your present. I’ll plug it into the first power source I see in the buildings outside. Don’t shoot it too often, otherwise it’ll cook the air around you.”
Frank stared at it, grinning widely.
“Ted, you shouldn’t have.”
Picking up his plasma cannon and trailing its power cord, Frank hit the button to the airlock.
The sound of the explosions began crashing through the doors as they opened.
“Where did we land?!” shouted Jason.
Running out ahead of the two men, Frank called back, “I think Drixian landed us in an arena!”
00h 00m 30s BA
A pair of Chehnasho stood behind their mounted gun, looking down at the large mine entrance, which seemed mostly deserted.
“They always get lazy whenever we leave them alone. When was the last time a cart of ore was even brought out?” asked Troycka.
Thinking about it for a moment, his companion said, “Must’ve been at least an [hour] ago; nothing since then.”
Chuckling, Troycka replied, “It’s fine. They’ll starve tonight, and then remember that they’ve got good incentive to keep digging.”
Looking out over the other guards around him, Troycka saw around two hundred men, all armed, and at least twenty more of the same plate mounted rifles that he operated.
“Hey, hold on. It looks like they’re bringing some out now.” said his fellow.
Turning back to the mine entrance, five Locayls were pushing what looked like empty carts toward the lift next to the stairs, moving right up to the platform where some Chehnasho guards were milling about.
“Why are they spreading out?” asked Troycka.
Suddenly the Locayl began sprinting back to the tunnels, as more carts began to be pushed forward out of dozens of tunnels by hundreds of slaves.
“What’re they do-“
“NOW!”
Vzk’tks, Gaoinans and Chehnasho suddenly stood up in the large carts that had been pushed forward.
Before the guards could react, small metal containers began to soar through the air, thrown by the occupants of the carts.
One landed in his gunner’s nest.
Troycka only had time to look at his companion before the explosions began.
00h 00m 30s AA
“FORWARD! OVERWHELM THEM NOW OR WE DIE HERE!” roared Guntraga, hunched over with the weight of the cannon in his arms.
As he placed his spike cannon on the ground, hiding behind the cover of one of the carts, the shooting began.
Tricko and Chanuck carried another cannon, hiding behind a cart that Ryst was pushing towards Guntraga.
Placing their own, and preparing to fire, Tricko looked at the Locayl and asked, shouting over the racket, “READY!?”
Giving a sharp nod, Guntraga shoved both carts to the side and they each quickly aimed at a different gunners nest.
Giving a great lurch back and a sharp report, two spikes screamed towards their targets, tearing through the mounted pulse cannons. The cannon operators were still alive, but it seemed that they’d not thought to bring secondary weapons with them, taking them out of the fight.
All around the Locayl and three Gaoians, slaves were surging forward, raging as they never could’ve done before they’d been stolen away to the mine, trying to climb onto the platform.
The walls shook with the fury of their charge.
Spikes were rocketing towards their targets, tearing through thin flesh and brittle bones, and shearing through the weapons of their oppressors.
A Chehnasho was screaming into a communicator, “Turn the equipment off! Turn it off! We have a full blown insurrection happening right now!”
A frantic reply came through, saying, “It is off! They shouldn’t be able to use them anymore! I don’t know what’s happening!”
“I don’t understa-”
One of the canisters suddenly rolled next to the crate he was hiding behind, stopping as it rolled into his foot.
The resulting explosion launched the crate into another two Chehnasho, crushing them.
But, the slavers began to rally.
There were at least ten heavy pulse cannons still operational, and about a hundred men still on the ground.
Cannon fire began to rain down on the rebels, carving bloody paths through their ranks as they pushed forward.
Rifle fire began to focus on the top of the stairway that they were using to move up to the platform.
Nerve-jam grenades, carried specially during times of heightened security, began to go off, thrown into the midst of the thousands of attackers.
As the grenades went off, great clusters of Vzk’tks and Locayl began thrashing on the ground before becoming still.
Chanuck, reloading their cannon, turned to Tricko, eyes filled with terror, “They’re pushing us back! What do we do?!”
Tricko’s eyes had gone wide, unable to accept that they were suddenly losing.
“I…I…don-”
Guntraga cut across him, “Those aren’t the Chehnasho’s ships.”
He spoke quietly to himself, barely loud enough to be heard, but he might as well have shouted.
Peeking from around their cover, they saw nearly thirty ships screaming out of the sky, coming in much too fast to have good intentions.
“Impossible… I thought he was dead.” whispered Guntraga.
All the Locayl saw them now, and had gone unnaturally still, seemingly waiting for something.
Then the ships began throwing coil gun fire at the buildings.
Great shockwaves began to roll over all of them, threatening to knock them over.
“CAPTAIN DRIXIAN HAS COME FOR US! THE DYING LIGHT HAS COME TO RECLAIM US!” roared Guntraga.
A great rumbling began.
Locayls from everywhere in the mine began to shove others out of their way, canisters of explosives carried in all four hands.
Hundreds of them charged the gates, bellowing like animals. Canisters began soaring through the air; thrown farther than any Vzk’tk could have thrown them.
As the explosions renewed, body parts began to fly, blood spraying the walls and traveling as far as the front lines of the rebellion.
As slaves were still being struck down by pulse fire, the Locayls overwhelmed the line of guards and began to engage in close combat, slamming rock picks and hammers into skulls.
Spurred by the success of the Locayls, the rebellion surged forward again.
The front lines made it to the first dead guards and began to strip their bodies of weapons.
Few guards remained at the gates now, and the last few pulse cannons were under heavy fire from the spike cannons.
For the first time, pulse fire was turned on the Chehnasho slavers.
Ryst, smiling broadly, looked at Tricko.
“We did it!”
Guntraga spoke, his tone heavy, before Tricko could answer.
“Little Gaoians. You have freed me, and made this possible, so I shall now warn you. You have not been saved.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tricko, fear taking root in him.
Guntraga’s expression was sad as he looked at him.
“If you do not get to a ship as soon as possible, you will never leave this mine alive.”
00h 00m 30s AA
He was sprinting down the hallway, his sharp breaths echoing in between the shockwaves.
The explosions were closer now, making the walls tremble and creak.
As Robert passed into a cell that was as large as the one he’d been in before, bright flames bloomed at the end of the hallway, illuminating the dimly lit room.
As the walls were bathed in dancing orange light, Robert saw a massive chair and bed.
Realizing he must be in Ryxus’s actual room, he looked to the door.
Running to it and saying a silent prayer, he pushed it, and the door swung open, unlocked.
After moving into the hallway, he looked left and right.
To the right, he saw a large group of Allebenellin, Chehnasho and a Robalin rushing along the next adjoining hallway, though they paid him no mind.
The left side of the hallway was clear, so he began running in that direction.
Trying to find an exit, he was interrupted as he turned a corner and found himself faced with almost fifty slavers running at him.
Preparing to fight, Robert roared at them, and they came skidding to a halt, eyes wide in terror.
The rage began to build in him, but he automatically forced it back down.
Sensing doubt in them, he spoke, putting as much venom into his voice as he could, “Run away, and you get to live. Go, now.”
However, before they could take his offer, Bilgrath came sprinting around the corner, bellowing orders.
“The Captain retreated to one of the armories! The buyers have gone there as well! We have got to get th-”
An oil spring of fury ignited in Robert’s chest, just as Bilgrath saw the human.
It was the first time Robert had been unrestrained in Bilgrath’s presence.
“Fuck it. I’ll make an exception for you.” he muttered.
And with a savage roar, he began to eviscerate them with the short fusion blade.
00h 02m 00s AA
Frank stood next to his crew in the center of the arena, his plasma cannon plugged into a power box near a set of bleachers.
The Reclamation sat next to the Locayl Captain’s ship, which was pouring men out of it.
Drixian came out of his craft, barking orders at the Locayls in the arena.
“We’re after Kingruta! I saw him, before the coward ran, and he couldn’t have gotten far! The rest of the ships will continue to destroy their forces and take control of the hangars! Six of you, stay here and guard both of our ships!”
As Drixian was yelling, Jason turned to Frank and said, “Protect the ship at all costs, Frank. If we lose the ship, we die on this rock. We’ll try and make it back here once we find the kid, but you might have to come get us. Keep your communication line open at all times; we’ll be the only people on it. Also, keep an eye on your fellow guards.”
“Got it. Get the fuck out of here. I want to try my new toy.”
Unamused, Jason turned to Ted, saying, “Let’s go. We’ll follow Drixian and his men until we find an exit. We should check the mines first.”
The group began to run, pushing through a large hallway, plunging into darkness.
As they left, and Frank looked at his six fellow guards, he swallowed some trepidation.
He didn’t want to kill, and would’ve avoided it if he could, but there simply was no option to keep clean hands.
A few moments later, a hallway opposite the one Jason had used was suddenly crawling with Chehnasho, wearing a symbol that didn’t belong to the Rising Plague, led by a Corti, which was a species that Frank had never seen in person before.
Upon seeing them, the Corti began shouting, and Frank understood through the translator that was taped to his suit collar.
“Kill the guards and get me one of those ships! We’re leaving!”
“Really? We just started.” muttered Frank.
As pulse fire began to spray from the Chehnasho, the Locayl ran for cover behind sections of the ships.
“Alright, let’s see what you idiots have got.”
Striding forward, a bit gun-shy after his last encounter with pulse rifles, he leaned out of cover and cycled up the plasma cannon.
With recoil that he only barely felt through the suit, half of the distant hallway and a section of bleachers ignited in blue fire.
“Jesus, this thing is nasty.” said Frank, shocked at the damage.
The Corti had been hit, and resembled only a half melted puddle of wax, and the Chehnasho were doing no better; thrashing for a few seconds and going still, being simultaneously liquefied and burnt to nothing.
The survivors fled, shocked that they were taking fire from vehicle class weaponry, and that a human they didn’t recognize, wearing a suit that could have torn tanks apart, had suddenly joined the fight.
A Locayl strode up to him and rumbled, explosions going off in the background, “I am glad that you are on our side.”
His expression souring slightly at being spoken to by the slaver, Frank replied, maintaining eye contact, “Yeah, and don’t you fucking forget that.”
00h 02m 00s AA
Jason ran next to Ted, having to slow down quite a bit, so as not to outpace their company.
They came to a large room that looked like it might have been a bedroom.
“STOP!” yelled the Captain.
Forced to stop by the halting Locayl in front of them, they tried to look around them and see why they had stopped.
Stooping to the ground, Drixian picked something up from behind the huge chair in the room, looking like it had been discarded and forgotten.
Holding it up to the dim light, they saw that it was a very long fusion blade, with an engraved handle.
It was covered in dried blood.
From his translated words, they suspected that the Locayl had actually become emotional, and more than a little enraged, when he said, “MOVE OUT!”
Moving again, they filed out through the door into a large hallway.
To their right, they saw what they thought looked like a slug wearing an exo-suit, running at top speed down another hallway.
“GO!”
A great thundering began in the hallway as the Locayls charged after the hapless creature.
“I think that was an Allebenellin. Why the hell would one of them be here?” muttered Ted.
“Not important, let’s avoid them and find an exit.”
Moving down the left section of the hallway, as they progressed, the sound of horrific screams began to drift towards them.
Stopping, Jason glanced at Ted, whispering, “Let’s find another hallway. I don’t want to have anything to do with what’s going on up there.”
“You won’t hear me complaining about that idea. Turn left here.” he replied, pointing at an adjoining hallway.
Running down the hallway, they came to a large set of double doors, helpfully marked ‘exit’.
Turning to a panting Ted, Jason said, “Ok, I figure we should check the mine first. Get that rifle out and watch for anyone that looks like they’re about to throw anything at you. Shoot those ones first.”
Eyes wide, Ted unslung the childlike weapon, shouldering it and gave a slight nod.
“Right, here we go.” said Jason, shouldering his own weapon.
Slamming the door outward, they assessed the situation immediately outside the door.
Ships were landing everywhere, firing devastating blasts into the midst of slavers running along catwalks and pathways, firing pulses uselessly at their attackers.
Coilguns were spitting metal at the buildings, shredding through them and exploding when they hit something more solid.
Fired into groups of Chehnasho, the blasts were tearing up sections of rock and earth, the shockwaves killing everyone within fifteen feet of each impact.
Some of the Chehnasho were trying to give orders to slavers who were too busy fleeing to listen.
“Get to the hangars! We have to get in the air!”
They watched a ship land, several doors opened on the side of it, near where the pilots would sit, in the center, and near the back.
Locayls were standing behind plate mounted pulse cannons, looking out at their landing site, and they began to tear through any stragglers stupid enough to be near the ship.
One Chehnasho charged at the ship, holding something in his hand.
As he came to a stop, he lobbed a small disk through the air, past the head of the Locayl manning the cannon near the pilots.
The Locayl saw the disk and began to panic, just as the nerve-jam grenade went off.
A sharp metallic pain shot through the heads of both of the humans watching.
The ship rocked violently and crashed to the ground, falling the last ten feet of height.
A cheer went up as the ship smashed into the ground.
“Yeah, don’t let one of them throw those at us.” muttered Jason.
00h 02m 00s AA
They were running from him now, fleeing as he advanced through their ranks.
Robert charged after the thirty or so still left alive between him and Bilgrath.
The group had turned round a corner, and as he turned it himself, he stopped.
Bilgrath had gotten his men to stop running.
“Fusion blades! All of you draw them!”
Steel began drawing from sheathes all around him.
There were far too many for him to fight hand to hand, Deathworlder or no.
Swearing harshly he began to retreat and, spurred on by his flight, they charged after him.
Shouting in their pursuit, their footsteps thundered through the halls, Bilgrath following them.
Speaking to himself, running behind his remaining men, Bilgrath growled, “I should have done this the day we took you.”
Running as fast as he could, Robert knew what he was looking for.
Trusting his memory, he found the hallway where he had first began tearing the slavers apart.
Breathing with relief, he picked up two pulse rifles from the corpses.
They felt far too light to be worth anything in a fight, but he’d felt enough shots from them to know better.
Tucking them under each shoulder, he found the triggers, which didn’t fit his hand properly, but still functioned.
The first Chehnasho ran into view, flashing his fusion blade.
The slaver stopped dead at the stationary human, eyes going to the pulse rifles in its hands.
The main group followed him, not noticing why their fellow had stopped.
“Fuck all of you.” growled Robert.
Pulse fire began to shred through the Chehnasho.
Using two rifles that were not lined up to his eye, his aim was very poor, but the crowded hallway was very forgiving.
Bilgrath hid behind the corner as his men were again being torn apart.
“Nerve-jam grenades! Throw nerve-jam grenades!”
The Chehnasho Commander’s tone was hysterical now.
Seeing the slavers dropping small metallic disks out of small tubes, Robert dropped one of the rifles and shouldered the remaining one.
Before they could throw them, the pirates were being cut down as soon as he saw them pull the small tubes off of their belts.
Only a few of them had the grenades, and they were quickly being slaughtered by the human who didn’t need cover.
He missed one.
The slaver ran forward, pushing past the others, raising his fist behind him, preparing to throw the disk.
Panic surged in Robert, and he took a last desperate shot at the Chehnasho, trying to stop the throw.
The pulse hit him in the knee, tearing off his leg, and he crumbled to the floor, shouting in agony.
The small disk rolled out of his hand and came to a stop as it hit the wall.
Robert ran as fast as he could, trying to get behind a corner.
Just as the grenade was out of sight, it went off in the midst of the remaining slavers.
Even at a distance, the shock drove a spike into Robert’s forehead, and he had to take a moment to collect himself.
But, he was the lucky one.
Terrible screaming began in the hallway as the grenade did its damage to the Chehnasho.
Looking out past his corner, he saw the rest of the slavers were on the ground, thrashing horribly.
He moved towards them, intent on finding a specific body.
A lone Chehnasho ran across the adjoining hallway, sprinting for his life.
“BILGRATH!”
Giving chase, Robert caught up to him quickly, the Chehnasho having a significant evolutionary disadvantage.
As Robert reached out to grab him by the shoulder, Bilgrath whipped around, flashing a fusion blade an inch from Robert’s face.
With reflexes no alien could hope to match, he caught the wrist of his quarry, and savagely crushed the bones in it, catching the blade in his other hand.
The slaver cried out in agony.
Robert slashed through the arm he was holding, just below the shoulder.
The breath of the Chehnasho caught in his throat, shocked at the new influx of pain and the sight of his arm on the ground.
There was no chance for Bilgrath to draw another breath and continue his scream, as Robert grabbed the Commander around the throat, and lifted him off the ground, slamming his back into the wall, pinning him there, his legs hitting the ground again heavily.
Robert felt bones breaking under his fingers, and saw Bilgrath’s eyes begin to bulge as his body began to convulse.
Moving his face close to the slavers, Robert whispered quietly, his words meant for no other.
“For the kid.”
And he slashed the fusion blade across the slavers body.
From right shoulder to left hip, Bilgrath became two separate halves and fell to the ground.
The Commander was dead before he hit the floor.