Zyr: Den
Zyr and Vena cut and shot their way through the narrow caves that formed Larasab's den. Vijari appeared from every dark crevice, while hidden laser grids, mines, flechette launchers, and half a dozen other nasty devices impeded their downward progress. Although he could sense they were getting deeper, thanks to the musty dampness he could still smell over the tang of blood, Zyr knew they weren’t making good time. Larasab could easily flee through a hidden exit and be halfway across Pormos by the time they eliminated her forces.
Vena, however, lost her patience first. The moment when she swung her rifle by the barrel and broke a Vijari’s head open with the stock, Zyr knew to get out of her way. All her thrashing—wielding a rifle in one hand and a sword in the other—finally allowed him to slip into the shadows unnoticed.
Stumbling upon one larger tunnel, Zyr stalked down it, sword held at the ready. At the far end, yellow light spilled across the shadows. Turning the corner, he found Larasab.
It was a large chamber, and strings of small electric orbs hung haphazardly from the circular walls. The Vijari assassin lounged upon a small plinth in the center with her Fortuna Skull Piercer leaned against her shoulder like a familiar lover. Larasab nuzzled its barrel as she stared at the Pterri commando.
Zyr edged into the room, glancing about. Before he could speak, a clacking voice ricocheted off the stone walls.
"Do put that down. She won’t attack you. Not yet, at present."
A Krysar unfolded itself from behind Larasab and stepped around the plinth. Although its usual shimmer was dull from shuffling through the caves, its red eyes still shone brightly. Two electric blue crystals crackled within its shoulders.
"I am known as Fexzii, the engineer. I crafted those plans you stole from Cryce,” the Krysar said, extending a hand. "Now you must return them to me, Pterri."
Zyr didn’t need to explain how they were locked away in a ship with the home fleet. He certainly didn’t need to say where his personal copy was hidden. His only reaction was shifting his stance to face the Krysar.
"I will not fight you, commando. I know you killed Cixarli by cracking him in twain. I possess not even a fraction of his power, and I am not remotely a threat. However, she is. I have employed her and she is prepared to kill you."
At this, Zyr’s composure cracked and laughter burst forth. The stone walls amplified its harshness, and as it echoed upon itself, it sounded like the avalanche he created just hours ago. He finally gathered enough composure to speak.
“No one trusts a Vijari.”
“I have put my faith in this one."
“Why?"
Larasab cleared her throat. It sounded like a dying animal sucking air through a chest wound. “It said I could kill some Pterri. While I couldn't turn that down, parasite, I'd actually be doing something important—not crawling through caves or plinking targets for profit. I'd have a purpose. You don't even know what that is, do you? You just follow orders and die."
Zyr stiffened. Larasab saw the sword jump up in his hand and she laughed.
“You're a brainless parasite. You scuttle around without any free will. I'm building something." She hocked and spat something brown onto the floor, slowly rising up to stand on the plinth. “We’re sick of you bastards dropping out of the sky, taking whatever you want, wherever you want. You’re not gods. It's time for your race to bleed.”
Of all the things Pterri training covered, debate was not one of them. Zyr could no more form a verbal defensive position or craft a cutting repartee than he could flap his arms and fly back to the fleet. He gritted his jaw, realizing all his thoughts about acquiring Larasab as an instrument were melting away.
“Hand over the orbital platform plans. No one need die,” the Krysar said.
“I don’t have them,” Zyr growled.
“Yes, you do.”
“They are with the fleet. You cracked crystal.”
“They are in your helmet, Pterri. I know they are in your personal equipment.”
To his credit, Zyr didn’t move a muscle. The Krystal had no way of knowing where Zyr had hidden his plans. It was a bluff.
"It's a new coding technique,” Fexzii continued. "There is a strain of code embedded in the data and it has low-level awareness. This code knows when its data is duplicated, which activates a homing signal. The signal is here in this cavern—in your helmet. Please do not continue to argue. It is a wasted effort."
Larasab smiled, and crusted blood flaked away from her scarred lips. “Hand it over, parasite. I bet you’re not supposed to have it anyway. You Pterri eat manuals and crap regulations. Can’t fart without permission. Do it or I’ll—”
In an instant, Larasab shouldered her rifle and aimed somewhere to Zyr’s left. Judging by the absolute silence around him, with not even the echoing of boots on stone, Zyr knew Vena had slipped into the room.
“Comrade, what is going on,” she asked, using the private channel between their helmets.
“The Krysar complicates things,” Zyr replied, working to buy time while trying not to wonder what Vena had overheard.
“This is a clean sweep. No survivors.”
“Yes, but this one is an engineer.”
Fexzii’s glowing eyes flicked from one Pterri to the other. It couldn’t hear their conversation, but Zyr could guess it knew they were talking about it.
“Time is of the essence, so return the designs. Your forces destroyed them on Asylum, then you attacked Cryce and forced a lockdown. Further delays cannot occur now."
Silence stretched out after the Krysar’s last statement. Zyr’s pulse throbbed within his temples, and vibrated in his clenched hands. He could see Larasab’s gaze flicking between him and Vena, wondering who she should shoot first. Vena was totally quiet, and Zyr knew her finger was around that rifle’s trigger, pulling it against the sear point, ready to fire. He opened his mouth to give the engagement order, and that was when the floor buckled.
Two shots blasted into the air, careening off hard rock as the cavern bucked and dove like a raft on ocean waves. Zyr fell, landing hard, and his sword skittered from his grasp. It disappeared into the flickering darkness as the orbs danced, bucked, and broke against the flexing walls. Dust cascaded through the air and the familiar sound of breaking rock filled Zyr's ears. As he clung to the floor, fighting vainly to keep part of it level with his Spell, he finally heard the explosions. He could feel them, too, ripping through the ground, annihilating tunnels and blasting the mountain to shreds. As chunks of the ceiling began crashing to the unstable floor, Zyr could tell the explosions were getting louder and stronger.
Vena started screaming something incomprehensible. Boulders now dropped from the ceiling, and Zyr rolled across the rippling floor to avoid getting crushed. He had no idea where Larasab and the Krysar went. It didn’t matter anymore.
The lights blew out. Darkness swallowed them whole. Cracking stone mixed with the growing crash of detonations, and Zyr realized what was going on.
He was on the receiving end of an orbital strike.