Emergence by Chris Harris (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📖

to the behemoth itself. Titan Troop Carriers joined the battle now, the larger Xaosian ships opening fire on the Stingers. Stingers fell, before some veered off and returned fire on the Titan's. Another barrage of missiles fell upon the Crusher. It moved to the side, towards the edge of the bridge, firing still on the Stingers. But the pilot's now targeted the barrels that the Crusher moved on, taking out the secondary turrets around them. The rocket fire and explosions deafened Trexor, but it pushed the Crusher back slowly.

Until it fell.

The Crusher was defeated by it's own back-heavy design, the weight of which dragged it down into the abyss below. It fell for what seemed like hours, before finally the crunch as it hit the solid rock at the bottom of the ravine sounded.

“Go!” Trexor roared, pointing his sword forward.

With the Xaosian's barricades left in tatters, they had no defence from Trexor's charge and the snipers still taking them down. Trexor took quickly aim and fired at the Xaosians. The head-shots dropped them quickly, but the body-shots only forced them back, denting their armour. Trexor felt something hit him in the shoulder; a Projectile-Stun bullet from some idiot who doesn't know how to use his weapon.

Trexor broke into the Xaosian ranks, wielding his sword. He slashed blindly at the Xaosians, whilst taking aiming carefully with the gun in his other hand. The sword carved through the armour; it's impact-resistant material was almost useless when at close-range. Bullets pierced the armour when they hit. Trexor felt another bullet hit his thigh, penetrating the armour; Projectile-Kill. He grunted as it hit, the armour only slowing it slightly. This was pain beyond agony and he nearly fell, but he steeled himself, grit his teeth and continued; he'd suffered worse: the scar on his back was testament to that.

The others had joined him now, using their standard-issue knives to carve their way through. But the element of surprise had worn off by now, and the Xaosians were drawing their own blades. Out of the corner of his eye, Trexor saw Reinf take a knife to the stomach, before being carved open, blood and gore spilling out. Trexor shot the Xaosian in the foot, before cleaving his head clean off. A bullet smashed against Trexor's helmet, cracking the reinforced glass. But it was only a glancing shot, and another man returned the shot, catching the Xaosian in the throat. The Xaosian clutched at its throat, dropping its weapons, before collapsing to its knees, either dead or unconscious.

“Retreat!” Trexor heard someone yell; a Xaosian. They began to back away from Trexor's group, still firing as they did so. Trexor's men still fired upon them until the Xaosians were off the bridge. Trexor smirked, before speaking into his com. “Target the Xaosians at the end of bridge.”

Fire rained down from the sky as Tya activated the Orbital Cannons.

Chapter 3: Strom

Strom watched as the Xaosians fled from the Bridge. They seemed to stop at the edge of it; presumably to regroup, before trying to take it again. The Crusher near him began to move over there and had just reached the other when the sky glowed orange.

An orange beam, wider than even the Military-base struck the ground where the Xaosian's rested. It took Strom a moment to figure out what it was; an Orbital Cannon strike. Strom had never seen one before, but he had read about the test firing of the long-destroyed Adjeti World-Burner, weapon that did exactly what it said; it destroyed worlds. Harnessing the power of a star, it could focus that power until it scorched away everything on the surface of the targeted world, leaving nothing but a husk behind. The test firings did nothing like that, merely checking it's functionality. The beam decimated the Xaosians and Strom could hear brief screams, before a static crackle signalling the end of the cannon's fire. Only blackened charcoal statues remained.

The Bridge was clear now.

Strom seized his chance, edging carefully around his cover, and sprinted towards the nearest building, hugging the wall when he reached it. He checked around the corner and saw no Xaosians. He did, however, hear a banging and clattering from inside the building. He looked up at a sign above him; Hub Electricals. Cocking the U-7, Strom ventured into the store.

“You wan' a new Screen? Fifty-Six inches?” came one voice.

“How are we gonna get that back home without anyone seeing?” said another, this one female and familiar.

There were only two of them that Strom could see in this small store. Screens had been toppled over, some were cracked and broken; whether this was caused by the two looters or the Xaosians, Strom knew not. “Oi!” Strom called.

The male turned to face Strom, dropping a box to the floor. Something broke inside the box, judging the sound it made. “Wha'?” he asked with misplaced bravado.

Strom nodded towards the female. “You're looting. If I hand you in, you will be reconditioned. Both of you.”

The female stood up and walked towards him. Strom recognised her now; she was the woman he had told to stay inside, the one with the newborn babe, the one who ignored him. “You again.” she said.

“The feeling's mutual.” Strom said, as monotonously as she had. “You should've listened to me.”

The man chuckled. “Wha', and miss ou' on all this?” he gestured around the store. “Who are you, anyway, to tell us wha' to do?” He spat at Strom's feet.

Strom sighed. “You can ex' now and miss ou' on reconditioning. Or you can stay, be stunned and dragged to a reconditioning chamber. Your choice.”

The female pulled on the man's arm. “Come on, let's get ex' of here.”

“No.” He shook her off. “We need these things for our son. We can no' afford these things. It's the government’s fault!”

“I'm sorry,” Strom said, silently agreeing; the government’s harsh taxes sent many a family into a life of crime. “But I'm tasked with upholding the law.” After a pause of silence, he said, “I guess I can let you take the broken ones; you can sell them for parts, I'm sure.”

The man looked at Strom in the eyes. “Thank you.” He sounded sincere; it was better than nothing, perhaps even better in the long term than just one working screen.

“Don' mention i'.” Strom smiled. “Seriously, though, don', cause I'm no' sure if this'll hold up in a trial.”

Strom looked outside and saw Titans moving in the sky, possibly towards the bridge. The fighting was still happening in the air, but it was quiet on the ground for the moment. Taking advantage of this Strom headed over to the bridge.

The roads were unrecognisable. Half of a Stinger had uprooted Hub Path, and parts of both road and fighter were strewn around the area. As Strom jogged past it, he could see the pilot's corpse impaled upon the flight-control joystick. Buildings had toppled either side of the road and the destruction seemed to be akin to that of a natural disaster, rather than a warzone. Crying children and shrieking adults grieved over the loss of family, friends or home. But there was no-one n the streets; people camped in the stores, or in the back alleys, and they stared at Strom as he passed.

Strom soon reached the remains of the Xaosians that tried to take the Bridge. Some stood still, mummified by the heat and ashes. Most were none existent, their remains covering the floor. There was no blood, no gore, just a clean death. Strom touched one of the mummified soldiers and where he touched, the soldier began to crumble until there was nothing left but dust.

The edge of the Bridge was also blackened from the OC blast. Strom began to run across the bridge, but slowed to a walk as he came closer to the base. Corpses littered the Bridge, both Xaosian and Raanian. Some had bullet wounds, some were split open or decapitated. The remains of a Crusher stood at one side of the bridge, its top turret obliterated and the rest of it buckled. Something splashed beneath his boots and droplets of blood leapt at his leg. He looked; he was wading through puddles of thick red blood.

Behind the corpses were a group of Raanian soldiers, all in grey armour; before the battle, Strom was sure they were white. One soldier had a blue stripe on their arm; a General. The General turned as he heard footsteps and, upon seeing Strom, reached forwards and grabbed Strom by the throat, lifting him up. “State your business.” The General hissed.

“I'm Strom,” Strom said, struggling for breath, “I'm a pilo' here.”

The General released Strom and said, “General Trexor, Strom. Now get inside and find Admiral Fairns. We'll be right behind, were just getting the wounded inside.”

“Was i' you?” Strom asked. “Was i' you who fired the OC?”

“I did, yes.” Trexor said bluntly.

“It was a good call...” Strom said.

“What's wrong?” Trexor asked.

“Before today, I never even though' abou' death, no' on this scale. I never though' I'd kill someone, bu' I did. For the good of Raan. Bu' this is huge. You killed so many people with tha' thing and...I don' think I could've done i'.” Strom's hands shook as he spoke.

Trexor put a hand on Strom's shoulder. “Strom...killing is never something you should enjoy, or aspire to do. You must never want to kill. You killed for Raan. I killed for Raan. I decimated the Xaosian forces today, and I'm proud. Not because I like killing, nor because I don't have a conscience, but because I helped protect our world.”

Strom and Trexor walked inside the base together. Trexor bent down so he was eye-level with Strom and said, “Now go to Fairns; he'll tell you what to do. Trust him; I've got him doing what I want for now.”

“Bu' isn' he your boss?”

“Run along now,” Trexor said, a nasty grin on his face.

Strom walked away, turning back to see Trexor heading over to the ODS computer bay.

“Strom!” came a voice from nearby.

He turned to see a lanky young man waving to him. “Olaf!” Strom said, a grin splitting his face.

Olaf got down from a Stinger's wing and walked towards Strom, holding out his hand. Strom shook it; a gesture Strom was unfamiliar with, being from the North; handshakes were a Southern custom. “I'm glad you're OK, bro.” Olaf said, “I was really worried when you hadn't turned up; I thought you were dead ext there.”

Strom chuckled. “You don'' have to call me bro, bro. Your accen' doesn'' sui' i'.”

Olaf acknowledge this with a slight nod of the head. “Noted.” He lowered his voice, “Ilisa's around here somewhere; she wouldn't go into the air without making sure you were OK.”

Strom felt his cheeks redden. “Ah. Righ'. Should probably do something abou' tha'.”

“You bastard!”

Olaf chuckled under his breath, while Strom's smile slipped away. “Ilisa, calm down!” he called.

Something struck the back of his head and he turned to see an attractive, dark-haired woman; Ilisa. “Ow!” he said mockingly.

“I thought you were dead, why didn't you call?” Ilisa asked, her finger pointing at Strom. “And you,” she yelled as Olaf opened his mouth, “keep your mouth shut!”

Olaf put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry sister.” he said, winking. She gave him a reproachful