Condition Evolution 4 by Kevin Sinclair (parable of the sower read online .txt) 📗

their access tunnel onto their ship and take it over? I began thinking of ways to make that happen. After five minutes of formulating my plan, I knew from my training on Accre that around 30 seconds had passed in Normal-State. It was time to go.

“Shaun!” Ember screamed. “What the fuck? They’re coming through!” She pointed to a bright red circle outline on the ceiling. “Why would you fucking phase out now!”

“Quiet,” I snapped. “Elyek, Yolek, invisible now! Torax, take cover. I want all your fire, everything you’ve got, hitting that fucking opening as soon as they start dropping through.” I stood up and Havok automatically came to my hand. He knew what was coming.

“William! I need your four weakest fighters to take cover and protect the minds of the Torax. Don’t complain, just fucking do it,” I ordered before he could respond. “The rest of you, shield your own minds and keep the fuck back out of my way, unless I really need help. I’ll never forgive myself if I kill any of you,” I said, looking each of them in the eye. I don’t know what they saw in my expression, but they all nodded, eager to please, which was good. There were times to be laidback. And there were times to make shit happen.

The comm clicked to life again. “I hope you don’t think your traitor ship is going to make it in time to rescue you, because it is not. See you soon,” he said with a lot more snark than I had heard from any Fystr before. There was something different about this guy, and I didn’t like it. As he finished speaking, the glowing, red section of ceiling dropped to the floor. Fystr legs immediately appeared, levitating down in a controlled descent, only to drop the remaining distance to the floor in a torrent of flames and screams. Moving forward to the writhing body, I ended their torment by burying Havok deep into their chest. While the Torax continued their bombardment of the tunnel opening it became obvious that if they kept up a constant flow, the heat on the bridge would become unbearable, or worse, it would end up in flames.

I’d anticipated this, and we also needed the Fystr to keep coming while we made time for our rescue. So I signaled for the Torax to stop. “If you see movement, light it up again,” I instructed, gesturing at the hole.

I knew the Fystr would find an option to get in here somehow. We waited with bated breath to see what they would try next. The flickering lights and partially burning roof making the bridge feel like a hellscape. Noise came from the tunnel. Two Fystr came back-to-back, each carrying two plasma shields as they dropped down onto the bridge. No levitation this time.

Fire hit them as soon as they were visible, but their shields protected them. They edged forward, creating room for two more shield-bearers to drop in. They moved quickly and within a few seconds there were six, then ten.

“Focus fire on the tunnel!” I cried.

The four Torax obeyed, instantly switching from ineffective attacks on the shields to blocking the tunnel again. Using telekinesis, I began ripping out terminals, workstations, seats, anything I could find, and hurling them up and over the top of the shields. Ember, William, and Roger took my cue and joined in my assault. It was never going to hurt the Fystr, but I was trying to create an opening in their plasma shield wall.

With reinforcements on hold, flames coming from above, and the volley of furniture, the Fystr on board had decided enough was enough. As one, they each dropped a shield, and pulled out a plasma charged weapon, before dropping their second shield to pull a second weapon. They looked a ferocious sight, brandishing a dual wield medley of axes and swords. I obviously didn’t stop to admire their elite maneuvers in the chaos. By the time the second shield dropped, two of them were already dead, to Havok’s delight. A third dropped to invisible knives. I briefly flashed yellow with Omni Energy twice in quick succession, and took an axe slash to the arm, while two more of the fuckers fell to Havok. A brief lull saw him heal my wound.

Four left, and they all came at me, attacking in tandem. I pushed myself back with levitation, giving me and Havok a bit more range to work with, but these guys were no fucking slouches, following me with speed, their weapons flashing at me in unison. I deflected three of the incoming attacks, but we missed the fourth and I took another hit. Grimacing, I felt a small amount of satisfaction when Ember's sword flew past and sliced the throat of the motherfucker who’d tagged me. Havok couldn’t even heal me as his concentration was on defense. All was mayhem, as the flames spread across the ceiling of the bridge.

“Stop the fucking fire!” I shouted, while managing to kill another three more through a combination of Havok’s skill and Ember’s sword, which provided both wounds and distraction.

The last two fell to a combination of William and Roger and some invisible knifework, but it hardly mattered as more and more Fystr flooded the bridge. Twenty of the bastards managed to get a foothold on the bridge before one more of the bastards dropped down. He was unlike any Fystr I’d seen before; he wasn’t massive, maybe Calparr’s height, and was quite lean too, showing none of the bulky muscle that Jotun had carried. And where all the Fystr, including myself, normally looked about 29 to 30 years old, he only looked about 20. Yet he was bald as an egg. His armor was next level awesome: ornately carved but not gaudy and with no epic intimidating protrusions like that of Jotun and his crew. No, this was functional. But the most disconcerting thing about him among the flames, death, and carnage, was his smile. There was