Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) (49 page)

286 plunged a fist wreathed in dark, pulsing, energy directly through his armor plating with a satisfying crunch, embedding it deep into the vulnerable softness of his stomach. Contained within that fist was a tiny packet of warped space, rotating, twisting on its own, straining hungrily to pull in outside matter and wreathed in its own event horizon of distorted light. Prisoner 286 shoved her grin into the mercenary’s face and opened her fist, releasing her little present, a thing of twisted space, heat, and the promise of slow agony.

Of course, the man did what anyone in his position would have done. He screamed until the ire of the singularity stole his last breath.

17.3
- Merlo

A gloved hand clenched, a calloused finger pulled a trigger, and several things happened at once, all too quickly for Merlo’s dazed head to sort through easily. Merlo launched herself through the air as powerfully as she could, straight at the man with the gun pointed at her Captain’s head. Branwen spun, as if she’d somehow known he was there all along, leaning out of the line of fire and twisting to bring her blade slashing down on his weapon.

Merlo impacted the mercenary heavily but awkwardly, hard enough to drive the breath from both of them in an audible
whoosh.
Branwen’s sabre ripped through the air, and the front half of a combat shotgun tumbled impotently to the ground. A mercenary slammed to the packed earth, crushing exotic grass and flowers with Merlo still tangled atop him. The girl shook her head in a somewhat ineffectual attempt to clear it, and looked up to see Branwen towering over them both as they lay on the ground, the lethal edge of her sword coming to rest close to the vulnerable flesh of the prone mercenary’s throat.

“Surrender.” The Captain said simply, her tone unforgiving shades of ice and steel. Underneath her, however, Merlo felt the shift of his slow movement, the shift of his weight as an arm moved slowly toward one leg. It took her a second longer than it should have, but she realized what he was doing; the pilot casually slapped her good hand over his face, the port in her palm obediently opening as she did so. He promptly stopped reaching for the gun, spasmed, and fell unconscious, all in short order.

The advanced mechanics of her suit kept any electrical impulses from arching back into her and gripping the man’s head for an extended moment to ensure his defeat, she finally released his mildly smoking face with half a grin and a shrug directed toward her Captain.

“That works, too.” Branwen commented, sheathing her blade easily after scanning the grounds, then leaning down to help haul the injured Merlo to her feet. They gripped arms, and Merlo found herself nearly torso-to-torso with her Captain, staring up into her face. “How badly are you hurt?”

It took her a moment to catch her breath, so she leaned on the Captain meanwhile and let the tall, stalwart woman support some of her weight. Her heart pounded in her chest; a sudden swirling of intense emotions rushing to the surface, feelings that ran deeper than she had ever consciously realized.

“You… I think you just saved my life.” Merlo laughed shakily, marvelling at the trembling in her limbs, a cocktail blended of sudden, deep-seated emotion and the battle-adrenaline abruptly draining from her veins. "Bran..." She lifted her face and met Branwen's eyes, and her breath caught in her throat as hot tears stung in her eyes.

This woman was her captain, her commanding officer, and she would do anything for her; Merlo had proven she would gladly give her life for her Captain, that she would die defending her. But obviously, Branwen wasn’t willing to allow that to happen. Unlike what Merlo remembered of Starlance, Branwen had shown that she cared for Merlo very much as a person, even as a friend, instead of just as a soldier.

Branwen had come back to save her.

"Thanks..." She forced a weak smile, unaware of how firmly she gripped her captain's arm as she clung to her.

In response, the Captain leaned over her, touching her firmly under the chin, faces close enough that Merlo could feel the Captain’s warm breath, the cadence of it still quickened from combat. Branwen leaned in closer, her clear blue eyes roaming over Merlo’s face before finding the pilot’s sterling eyes and lingering there for several long breaths. Merlo’s chest tightened in anticipation; a sudden warmth bloomed throughout her body, the admixture of longing muddled with tension and unbidden fear. The Captain lifted a hand to brush the hair back from her young pilot’s face, then slid it around to the back of her neck…

And turned her head to the side, checking her over for further injuries. “No concussion, I think. Maybe a minor one?” Merlo abruptly realized she’d been standing there a long moment, not really answering Branwen’s query with any useful words, but instead just staring into her face as if lost. She felt the warm rush of blood to her cheeks, but she was already so overheated from fighting for her life that no one this side of the Kalaset would notice. At least she hoped so. “How long will it take your suit to tend to your injuries?”

“Not too long… It’s got to repair itself, first, and…” Something past the emotions of the current moment prodded her train of thought. “Bran!” Merlo’s thoughts suddenly cleared, pushing past the haze of confusing emotions and bodily traumas. “286… Something happened to her. We’ve got to go find her, Captain. Please.”

“What happened? Did these guardsmen manage to harm her?” The Captain seemed dubious, and perhaps Merlo couldn’t blame her for her lack of trust in 286. But she was in no condition to go after 286 alone, not yet. Merlo jumped, suddenly noticing movement as the cracked remnant of her visor highlighted a figure on her HUD. Fortunately, it resolved itself into Zimi before she could act, the slim girl slipping up from out of nowhere to look them both over worriedly.

“No, not quite anything like that… She just got this blank look on her face, and walked off. She stopped fighting, and they stopped fighting her.” She saw Branwen’s critical eyebrow raise ever higher as she spoke, and she was prepared for it. “Bran, she didn’t just abandon me. She wouldn’t do that. I don’t know what, but something happened to her, and she’s in there by herself.” With a tremorous, outstretched arm, Merlo pointed toward the tunnel leading away from Stone’s manor.

Zimi stepped over and forcefully lowered Merlo’s arm, then started checking her over, investigating her injuries. “Sure enough, she’s pretty banged up, but she’ll be alright, Cap’n. Just needs time, an’ less of it with that fancy suit of hers.”

Branwen nodded her thanks to their medic, but had obviously figured as much herself. She shook her head. “I never should have left you in her care.” The Captain’s tone seemed heavy, almost sorrowful; it briefly took Merlo aback.

“I don’t—” Merlo began, but Branwen didn’t let her continue.

“I should have been more careful; look what happened.” The Captain continued, gesturing at Merlo’s wounds, many of which were still uncovered and bleeding lightly, awaiting the recovery and propagation of her armor’s nanotech. “I have lost far too many to my own arrogance, my carelessness, my perceived necessity. I could have lost you too. There is no excuse.” Branwen slapped a hand down on Merlo’s shoulder, gripping her firmly and emotionally. Merlo didn’t figure it was the best moment to tell her that it kind of hurt.

With a deep frown and sorrowful wrinkles forming around her eyes, Branwen began to pull Merlo into an embrace, but, despite how nice that would have been, the girl pushed back with her own arm and resisted. When the Captain looked down at her in confusion, Merlo simply blinked back at her with wet-rimmed eyes. “Bran, please. My girlfriend is in there, and I’m worried about her.” She didn’t really know what else to say. It was so hard to process all of these feelings at once; it felt like her mind was slowing down as she tried, like she was thinking through mud.

The words she spoke had an immediate effect on the Captain, however, as she snapped almost to attention immediately. “You are right.” She snapped a quick glance around the back end of the compound, obviously accessing it tactically. “Zimi, come with me, but stay behind me and keep yourself concealed. No fighting. Merlo, stay hidden as well. I will go look for 286.”

With that, the Captain stepped over and picked up one of the undamaged glasteel shields, hefting it consideringly before sliding it into place on her arm. Zimi stayed out of Branwen’s way, but followed at her heels as she moved, a silent and timid shadow.

“Be careful,” the Captain said. “I will find her and return shortly.” With a single, firm nod, Branwen disappeared into the looming dark of Stone’s secret complex, and Merlo could only stand there for a long moment, before looking for a place to hide and rest, meanwhile wishing her stomach would stop twisting with worry.

17.4
- Branwen

It would likely be a while, Branwen felt, before she could stop berating herself for her mistakes here. Perhaps coming to space had made her soft, after all; though it was also true that she’d had no shortage of mistakes while living on Fade, either.
Sure ‘nough, ain’t nobody perfect, Bran.
She could virtually hear her uncle’s voice echoing through her thoughts, saying the same thing he’d told her time and again over the years, the thing she knew to be true but which nonetheless never lightened any burdens.

Zimi suddenly squeaked, as a tremor rippled its way up from somewhere beneath them, accompanied by a deep, sullen booming reverberation. Branwen shaded her face with the arm of her coat as small shards of dirt and rock trickled down from above, while Zimi clutched her other arm, though the girl released it when Branwen glanced down at her. “At least we know Prisoner 286 is likely alive.” She smiled, trying to reassure her young friend.

“Yeah, but in what kinda condition down there?” Zimi said quietly in response. “While you were fightin’, I got a message from Mr. Leonard, Cap’n. He said he intercepted where these guys tried to make outside contact for reinforcements, but he ain’t sure that they can’t get somethin’ out past him.”

Branwen made a thoughtful noise, stepping over unmoving bodies and lumps of gruesome carnage as she made for the tunnel, noting absently as Zimi covered her nose and averted her gaze from those same still forms. “This is a business best done quickly, anyway.” The Captain frowned as she saw Zimi shudder at her words, and pausing a moment to put a hand on her shoulder apologetically. “I am sorry, Zimi. I forget how hard conflict can be for those that are unused to it.”

“We gotta do what we gotta do, Cap’n.” The girl shrugged stoically, pulling out a dark cloth handkerchief and tying it around the bottom of her face, likely to block out the smells of death wafting up from all around them. This dim series of hallways and rooms, drab rocks supported by simple steel, showed all the signs of Prisoner 286’s passage, confirming that the dangerous woman was no longer helpless, nor passive. “It ain’t like I haven’t seen it before, anyways. I guess that’s exactly why it bothers me so much.”

Branwen nodded. It was exactly the job of soldiers like her to protect others from being exposed to the visceral nature of fighting, and here she was dragging Zimi into the thick of it. “Fade willing, it will all be over soon.” It was all she could offer as comfort before Zimi froze then reflexively stepped to the side and blended into the shadows of the support beams at Branwen’s left hand. The Captain simply stopped moving, knowing that she could be silent, but if someone really wanted to visually pick her figure out from the background, they would.

After a moment with no one jumping out to ambush them, Branwen heard the sound too, though she had to do so around the infrequent rumbling shocks that resounded through the depths of the building. Sword sizzling at the ready, held so that its light was concealed behind her, she crept forward. Ahead, around a rock outcropping, came voices, men’s voices raised slightly in argument, heavy with their distinctive, thick Urzran accents.

She listened long enough to determine what they spoke of: namely, that someone, likely Prisoner 286, had been sealed into the compound, and that the two of them had been ordered to seal this door and stand guard. One of them didn’t seem too keen on the thought, professing instead that they should go investigate the sounds of violence deep within. The other seemed to disagree,but that was where Branwen faded from the conversation and stuck her head around the corner, just a fraction, slowly enough and barely enough to avoid drawing attention.

They were barely into the tunnel, a squared pathway into the rocky cavern wall only slightly broader in any one direction that Branwen’s height, just tight enough confines to make her feel the constant need to duck and to also serve as a reminder of the looming, innumerable tons of rock suspended above her head. This next room that held the two bickering Urzran mercenaries was a little wider and held a few wall-embedded data panels and standing technological objects beyond Branwen’s ability to recognize. The back wall was sealed with a solid vault-style door that appeared thick and complex enough to be worrisome to her, but first things first.

The easiest fights to lose are those you are not aware you are fighting.
Branwen put her back to the rough-carved wall, just out of their vision and barely fifteen feet away. She hefted the glasteel shield in one hand, and temporarily gripped her Skyblade in that same hand, long enough to grasp one of her remaining axes in her other hand, lean around the wall, and hurl it with deadly force. She followed the axe a moment later, shifting the grip on her sabre and rushing into the room, glasteel riot shield held at the ready.