Alarms blared aboard the Wingspan as it came out of the far side of the dragon's maw, the Drakmundi forces firing on it as soon as they saw who'd come through.
“Should we scramble fighters, Admiral?” asked Triflin.
“No,” answered Admiral Hunt, his eyes steely. “Get us a path without any worlds or moons in the way and let's jump somewhere a little safer.”
Triflin raised his eyebrows, his crystalline blue features a mask of apprehension. “I'll do my best, Admiral, but a true deep scan to see what's out there will take more time than we have. There's a chance we’ll slam right into a planet or an asteroid field.”
Hunt stole a glance out of the Wingspan’s bridge at the confusion outside. Drones swarmed all around them, a fleet of war trains were maneuvering to broadside them, and a world of green and blue lay off in the distance. Behind him, the mirrored surface of the portal they'd come through vanished, sealing their fate.
“Officer Triflin, the choice is between certain death here or potential death out there. My preference is the latter, but if we don't choose quickly it will be the former.”
“Yes, sir,” said Triflin, already eying the screens.
Talon Squad watched over Hunt and Kiflin’s shoulders. Or at least Vanbrook, Reclan, Doc, and D’Jarric did. Raivyn had stayed behind to deal with the remaining Drakmundi threat. The remainders of Talon Squad were freshly back on the Wingspan after liberating Griffonia from the Drakmundi fleet, looking on nervously as the enemy pounded the lone ship with everything they had. Shields were falling fast, and if they didn’t leave soon they’d be blown to smithereens.
A massive form appeared, climbing over the planet’s horizon and moving at unbelievable speeds.
“It’s one of those giant serpents!” called Vanbrook.
A similar vessel had just proven itself a serious force to be reckoned with, tearing through shields and ships alike with a devastating flame-based energy weapon.
“Admiral, this is Dekken,” said the Chief Engineer from his engine room. “We’re ready for a jump if you have coordinates for us, which I sincerely hope you do.”
“Sending them to you now!” exclaimed Triflin.
“Do we have enough travel shields left to make a jump?” asked Reclan, her eyes darting from the screens to Triflin to the fast-approaching serpent.
Triflin shrugged. “As long as we don’t hit anything?”
“EVERYONE, STRAP IN OR HOLD ON TO SOMETHING, WE’RE JUMPING IN UNDER A MINUTE!” cried Hunt into the public comms.
Talon Squad scrambled down to the observation deck, located just a few levels below the bridge on the Wingspan’s main tower. No sooner had they strapped in than they felt the ship lurch violently as the ripmed field grabbed onto the vessel and flung it across the aether. The serpent breathed out a vicious but impotent gout of flames before disappearing suddenly from the Wingspan’s view, suddenly thousands of miles away. All that was left now was to discover if they’d saved themselves from disaster or sealed their own fate.
***
Prime Minister Skritka emerged from Griffon Keep, blinking in the morning sun and feeling ridiculous in the helmet and flak jacket his advisors insisted he wear. The Drakmundi had been driven out of the immediate area, and squads of soldiers and Marines had been dispatched to deal with the infiltrator pods that had come crashing down into the city as a parting gift from the fleeing enemy.
“Sir, I really don't think you should be out here,” warned Defense Minister Sta-Kwi.
“Nonsense,” said Skritka dismissively. “I've been underground far too long. It's past time I surveyed the city and coordinated the rebuilding of Griffonia.”
Two squadrons of fighter craft zoomed overhead, heading north.
“Off to Plainston, I take it?” asked Skritka.
“Yes,” answered the Minister. “The other cities will be liberated soon, I believe. The supplies and munitions you ordered from Talpidaria should be here before long, now that the skies are clear of threats.”
Skritka’s face soured. “You know, I should be happy to have the world back, but my mind keeps wandering back to one particular snag.”
“The Wingspan’s unscheduled departure, sir?” she asked.
Skritka nodded. “Our reports say Specialist Raivyn stayed behind, and is working with the Marines. I want to talk to her.”
“We'll reach out, sir,” said the Minister. “I'm sure she'll have something interesting to share.”
***
Peering out from behind the corner of a building, Raivyn reached out with T-waves like psychic fingers, digging into the mind of one of the Drakmundi beast soldiers that roamed the ruined streets, looking for prey. The hulking beast stood close to seven feet high, with clay-like orange skin and a coarse black mane like a lion's. It wore a simple purple singlet with a wide black belt that bore an embossed metal image of a serpentine dragon encompassing an orb, the symbol of the Drakmundi.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
However, the diamond-shaped purple gem on its forehead was what Raivyn focused on. It seemed to be linked to the brutally strong psychic defenses the Drakmundi had, and she'd have to crack through those before she could puppeteer the beast soldier.
Being well-practiced at the art and still surging with adrenaline, she quickly tore through the defenses and turned the puppeteered soldier on its erstwhile comrades, beginning a bloody and deadly melee.
Kwa-Kwa and her scouts opened fire from a nearby rooftop with high caliber sniper rifles, drawing the beasts’ attention towards themselves before Raivyn could be noticed.
The crowd of enraged beast soldiers charged the snipers, only to be ambushed by Grepk, Keshri, Krum-Bahk, and Trall, all in their heavy Marine armor. Now experienced with handling the monsters, the Marines quickly dispatched the badly wounded unit.
Exhausted, Raivyn came out from behind cover to join the Marines, the scouts approaching from the opposite direction.
“That's another batch destroyed,” said Grepk happily, resting his double barrelled rifle on his shoulder.
Krum-Bahk wiped the purple gore from his cutlass and sheathed it. He looked up at Raivyn as she approached. “Hey Rai, you don't look so good.”
She nodded. She could feel that her face was drained, her mind was scattered and her limbs had grown rubbery with exhaustion. “I'm wiped out. I can't do that again.”
“Understood,” said Grepk with a nod. “Having a psychic to work with is great, but we'll keep going without you. I can reload my gun if it runs out of ammo, but your mind is a little different. Go rest up and we’ll regroup when you're fresh.”
Nodding again, Raivyn took a seat on the curb, wondering if she was going to be able to navigate back to Griffon Keep without having to walk. She checked her comm, hoping against hope that Vanbrook might have reached out to her from wherever he was.
To her dismay, there was only a recorded message sent by Prime Minister Skritka. Heaving a resigned sigh, she clicked on the message to open it.
“Specialist Raivyn. I appreciate the work you’ve done to liberate Griffonia from the Drakmundi menace. Do not think I will forget it. However, the other members of your squad, along with Admiral Hunt, took the Wingspan and deserted the battlefield. I would like to discuss the matter with you at length. When you are able to break off from the counter offensive, come see me at Griffon Keep.”
Raivyn looked up pleadingly to the sky. She knew she’d have to answer for the others’ actions, but she’d hoped to get some rest before doing so. Rising on sore, exhausted legs to make the trek, she heard the rush of wings behind her and felt a gust of wind. She turned to see a griffon standing in the street, its silver-blue scales and feathers glinting in the morning sun.
“Need a lift?” asked Jasken.
***
Alarms were once again blaring aboard the Wingspan as the ship came out of its short jump. They had only gone a few light years when the shields were depleted to dangerous levels. Hopefully it was far enough from the Drakmundi world they’d left behind to keep them from being followed.
“Well, we survived,” said Triflin. “We must have hit some dust along the way, because our shields took some serious hits, but we made it.”
“How long before we can make another jump?” asked Hunt.
Triflin shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Dekken on that one, Admiral. We’ll need to recharge shields and that’s his department. In the meantime I’ll get to running a scan for viable planets we can get to. Something with water and oxygen, I hope.”
Hunt nodded. “Please do. Now to introduce myself to our guest.”
Hunt walked out of the bridge and down to the observation deck, hearing loud and combative voices as he got close. Sprinting the last few yards and bursting into the room, he saw the cause of the commotion.
Talon Squad, minus Raivyn and plus an RTS agent, was standing in a semicircle around the Drakmundi beast soldier that had come aboard with them, their backs to the soldier. An angry group of sailors were standing nose to nose with the Squad, pointing fingers and screaming. If any of the crowd was making a sensible point, Hunt couldn’t pick it out of the chaos brewing before him.
“ENOUGH!” he shouted from the doorway. Clasping his hands behind his back, he walked into the room, having gotten the attention of everyone in it. “What is going on here?”
“There’s a Drakmundi onboard,” said the ringleader of the sailors accosting Talon Squad. Hunt recognized him as Syden, a private who’d caused trouble for Dekken when he had been acting admiral.
“I noticed,” answered Hunt dryly. “I have some questions about that myself, but I’ve found that shouting and pointing fingers only gets you so far.”
Syden looked narrowly at Hunt. “Oh, we’ve got all sorts of questions. Like, where are we, exactly? A bunch of folks saw us fly through that portal. Not one of us got any warning about it.”
“We are on a mission for the Progenitor,” said D’Jarric.
Hunt sighed, watching Syden turn towards the Solaran in disbelief.
“A mission for the Progenitor?” asked the troublesome sailor. “Are you telling me I’ve been press-ganged into some kind of crusade?”
“Watch your mouth, Syden,” cut in Hunt. “I’ll be explaining everything briefly, but I need you and your shipmates to go back to your quarters until then.”
“I don’t want to go to my quarters,” snarled Syden, turning violently towards Hunt. “I want to go home!”
Vanbrook broke ranks with Talon Squad, hot on Syden’s heels. Hunt stood his ground as the sailor approached, but Vanbrook put his hand on his shoulder, hoping to turn him around before he could get within striking distance of the admiral. Syden threw Vanbrook’s hand off and turned back towards him, swinging a fist. Vanbrook blocked the blow with his forearm and returned it with one of his own, knocking Syden unconscious with a fist to the chin. The sailor was midstep when he was struck, so his unconscious body wavered, tethered to the ground with one magboot.
Syden’s fellow sailors looked at one another anxiously. Now that their leader was neutralized, they didn’t want to get into a brawl with the Admiral–not to mention Talon Squad.
“We’ll be in our quarters, then, Admiral,” said one of them.
Hunt nodded. “That would be wise. Take PFC Syden along with you. And maybe try to instill a little wisdom in him as well, understood? We’ll let the punch he just took serve as his punishment, so long as he behaves himself from here on out.”
“Yes, Admiral.” The sailor came over and unceremoniously collected Syden’s limp form, hauling him down the tower to the sailors’ quarters.
Vanbrook watched them warily as they left. “This isn’t over, Admiral. They’re not going to be happy when they hear what’s going on.”
Hunt frowned, his brow knitting. “I know, Vanbrook. I know. But there’s no turning back now. I’ll have lots of questions to answer, and that’s before we–and I say this optimistically–get back and I have to try to explain myself to the Prime Minister.” He eyed the tall, broad and heavy-faced Drakmundi beast soldier standing stoically behind Talon Squad. “But before that, I have some questions of my own.”
