Emergence - Chris Harris (beach read .txt) 📗

if it was acting like a little brother. Right now, no-one cared about that.

Ilisa watched Strom's eyes close as she cradled his head. She felt her face fall and her shoulders droop backwards as she collapsed to her knees. Her red eyes tingled, but she could not cry; her tears had all been spent on her brother. Instead, she buried her head in Strom's chest with her eyes closed, desperate to be close to him for the last time.

A crowd was forming a circle around them now, keeping back at a respectful distance. Ilisa paid them no mind; she couldn't care less whether they were Raanian or Xaosian. Her hand found his and she held it tight. She opened her eyes suddenly.

There was a pulse.

Disengaging herself from him, she tore his shirt off and placed her hand on his heart; a slow, but definite beat. “Please, I need a doctor!” She called to the crowd, relieved to see that they were Raanians rather than the enemy.

One man came running forward and took Strom's pulse. “He's alive, but only just; he's gone into a comatose state; his body is near enough dead, but his mind is very much alive.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Ilisa feared the worst.

The doctor took a deep breath, before hesitantly saying, “I'm sorry my dear, but the hospital is full to bursting point; we literally cannot help him.”

Ilisa stood, slowly and deliberately until she looked into the doctor's eyes. “You cannot help him?” The doctor shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “He helped you! All of you!” She gestured to the crowd with one hand as her voice grew louder and more shrill. “My brother died for you! I fought for you! And now Strom here has to die too?” Many members of the crowd began to look uncomfortable. “I didn't have to fight today! They did, but I didn't; I, as a woman, fought in the air and in space, alongside my male comrades to try and save you all! And now you damn him?”

The doctor backed away from Ilisa slowly. “We're not damning him, but we're not damning anyone else either. Especially with the quakes.”

“Quakes?”

The doctor briefly looked down, before looking back up at Ilisa. “Yes, the quakes. There have been a bout twenty earthquakes across the continent in random areas; we could be next. Tapal has been hit pretty badly; the North at least has been levelled.”

The doctor continued talking, but Ilisa heard none of it. The North was where Strom had lived; his family and friends were likely dead. Ilisa's friends, mainly in the South, may be okay, but she wasn't going to head back to Tapal just to see them. She looked down at Strom at her feet and, with a tugging feeling in her chest, realised that he was all she truly had anymore.

She turned to the doctor. “Are there any interplanetary ships I can use here?”

The doctor shook his head. “I'm sorry, but we're using all that we've got to evacuate the coasts.”

Ilisa had almost forgotten about the burning Sea of Oil. “Damn it...” She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration; she had never felt so helpless.

There was a bustle in the crowd. “Excuse me”, “hey”, “watch it, you”. One man stepped to the front of the crowd and approached Ilisa. “You looking for an interplanetary craft?” He asked Ilisa.

Her heart began to beat faster again. “Yes, I am.”

“They got some ancient ones up on Viran. We don't use them because apparently they're structurally unsafe,” Ilisa heard the implied quotation marks around the words, “but they still fly. I reckon you could get as far as New Orbus if you're a good pilot.”

The Viran; Raan's moon. The Stinger could take her that far, or she hoped so anyway. “Are you sure about these ships?” Her heart was still racing.

“Certain, yeah.” The man nodded.

Ilisa picked up Strom and carried him to her Stinger, where Olaf's corpse was waiting. She placed her hand to her mouth at the sight; she had forgotten how disfigured it was. Setting Strom down, she opened the cockpit and pulled Olaf out, placing him gently next to Strom. She turned to the doctor. “Do you have a morgue nearby?”

The doctor nodded. “Is that your brother?”

Ilisa looked down at Olaf's thin and once-tan features. Now they were gaunt and pale, a ghastly incarnation of her brother. “He was my brother. Olaf Cahdun.” She looked up again. “Please keep him in the morgue until I return.” Her voice took a more pleading tone, and it wavered as if she was going to break down. But she had to be strong; for Strom's sake.

The doctor nodded. “We will, don't worry.”

“Thank you.”

Without looking at the crowd, who were slowly backing away, she carefully placed Strom's body into the back of the Stinger, bending him into a slouched seating position. She climbed into the pilot's seat and closed the cockpit, signalling to the crowd to back away.

And with a throaty roar, the Stinger lifted off and shot into the night sky. Her heart raced; there was still a chance of saving her lover.

Chapter 17: Foton

Hangar bays in any building are usually rather drab and dreary; they don't need to be fancy and the only thing that cleans up the dust and dirt from the floor are the boots of the pilots walking that short distance from the door to their ship. The Lord's Hangar, however, was rather extravagant. To match the Lord's robe, the walls had spiralling patterns set in red and gold plating atop polished walls. The lightbox-ceiling replaced the strip lights in the standard hangars, and the light reflected off of the polished walls and the heated floor tiles.

In the centre of the hangar bay was the Lord's ship; Watchman. Unlike the jagged angles and straight edges of the Xaosian Dominion, the Watchman was sleek and curved, shaped more like a flattened sphere than anything else. This disc-like ship could hold over one-hundred crew members, and it usually did so; most were guards trained in ship-to-ship combat made possible by the complex arrays of hidden weaponry hidden under panels in the ship. In combat, the panels would slide away after the weapon-bays became airlocked.

A Scaliman, yellow in colour, stood by the ship, waiting for Foton and Devilclash. Foton greeted him with a salute. “Nixiin, good to see you again.” Foton extended a hand, which Nixiin took and shook.

“And you too, Foton.” Nixiin smiled politely. “Ah, the Pyrkagias approaches! I've heard a fair bit about you, Devilclash.”

It took Foton a moment to remember that Devilclash had not actually left the Capital with Tahkshi before, so had not had the chance to meet Nixiin, who was in charge of this hangar.

“Only good things, I hope.” Foton liked Devilclash, but her flat and humourless drone of a voice irritated him whenever he heard it.

“Mostly.” Nixiin smiled and showed Devilclash her chambers on the ship's map. “You still waiting for Tahkshi?”

“Yeah, twit likes to keep me waiting.” It was no secret among Tahkshi's personal staff that he was, despite his media persona, a bit of a pompous arsehole.

Nixiin chuckled. “You realise he could've been right around the corner when you said that.”

Foton suppressed a natural smile at that. “I would have heard him.”

Nixiin considered this for a moment. “Yeah, you would've.”

Foton cocked his head. “Here he comes.”

Fast footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the hangar. “That's a damn good ear you got there, Foton.” Nixiin observed.

“Foton, Nixiin, get a move on!” Tahkshi strode into the hangar, escorted by two large Hak'i. He turned to them. “Go back to your posts now.” He continued walking, unbuckling his Lord's robe as he did so, revealing red and gold shirt and trousers underneath. “I'm going to my chambers, call if you need me.”

“We won't need you.” Foton said under his breath. “Nixiin, I'll see you in a day or so.” Foton walked briskly to the ship and up the ramp, which clanged beneath his steel soles; before coming to the hangar, he had changed into his light-combat armour. This armour consisted of the steel boots as well as a steel chestplate. However, his gloves and trousers were made from a metal fibre, creating a thick mesh which should stop oncoming blows and low-calibre bullets. At his waist, a holster held a small pistol with both a stun and kill setting. A knife was placed on the inside of each shin. Unlike the other guards, Foton also attached a retractable blade onto his wrist; these were technically illegal, but Foton chose to wear them to give him an edge in hand-to-hand combat. He didn't think anyone else knew about them, which suited him just fine.

When he got inside, he headed up to the ship's command hub. There he stood on a bridge overlooking banks of computers and their operators, both human and Irinian. “Everyone on board?”

A human near to him by the name of Jeok replied. “Life sign readings show that, yes everybody is on board.”

Foton nodded. “Excellent. Set course for Buun.”

Foton stood and waited for an Irinian – Foton thought he was called Wrotha – to respond. “Ready sir.”

“Call me Foton.” Foton abhorred being referred to as higher than the others, when they are doing more work than he. “Prepare for take off.”

He heard the hiss of the landing gear folding up and the airtight locks sealing. Then the engines thrummed louder and louder as they built up energy, before the hangar bay doors opened and the ship slowly manoeuvred out of them. As soon as it was out, the engines went silent; they were only loud when warming up. The ship angled itself towards the sky, and lumbered slowly upwards until it reached the upper atmosphere. The wall in front of Foton turned transparent and he could see the darkness of space outside. “Engage the L-Drive.”

Stars and space zoomed past the ship as it became faster than light itself.

Foton sat down in his chair on the bridge and logged on to his computer. While he was tempted to check for news on Raan, he knew he shouldn't; he was meant to be in charge. He checked the Watchman's structural integrity and found it at one-hundred percent, just as he expected. Surprisingly, he found himself bored; he was never usually bored. There was always something to do, something to check. But now, he had a team doing those jobs for him and his principle wanted to be alone. He knew why he felt uneasy though; Devilclash's disbelief about his time on Buun. He knew he should never have mentioned it; his past always led to trouble. The minutes passed in silence.

“Foton!”

He turned to see Tahkshi walking towards him. “What do you want?”

Tahkshi looked irritable at Foton's tone, although Foton thought that he should be used to it by now. “How long is it to Buun?”

Foton shrugged. “I don't know.” He turned to the crew beneath the bridge. “How long is it to Buun?”

Wrotha turned around and said, “About 10 minutes; it takes about 25 to get there from New Orbus.”

Foton was always amazed by how fast L-Drive travel was; a matter of minutes, or hours, from New Orbus to anywhere else in the Twelve, aside from Oblivion. Light from