Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS

Triezal watched the seven martial artists entering the base from several different directions, sweating heavily as Zalnaru tried his best to keep the barrier operating.

“Have you fixed the issue?” he asked, his voice clearly rushed.

Zalnaru’s forehead was even sweatier than Triezal's, with deep bags under his eyes which spoke of his exhaustion. Ever since half of the technicians had died in one of the early skirmishes, he had yet to manage a proper break. The short breaks he and the others had managed were far from long enough to make up for the long hours and stress.

“I’ve found the problem. It seems to be a defect in some of the components. Unless you can somehow get us the replacement parts, I can maybe keep the barrier going for another hour and a half, at most.”

The weariness in Zalnaru’s eyes was matched only by his clear resignation. He had volunteered for this post, just like the rest of them, a true loyalist. Still, nobody truly wanted to die.

“Less than two hours…” muttered Triezal.

It was far less than he had hoped. Even if they were to clear out the martial artists who had managed to enter, it seemed that the forward base was nearing its end. He couldn’t help but think of the relic that he had stored away in his room. He would soon need to put it to use.

The repetitive clatter of ammunition being launched down the acceleration tubes filled the air, as well as the dying scream of one of the martial artists. It was all Triezal could hear, the only sound in his world.

“Are the explosives ready?” he asked, resigned.

Another bead of sweat dripped down Zalnaru’s brow after hearing his superior’s words. The explosives he had mentioned were sometimes called the IP safeguard, and were an inbuilt part of the design of all the machines that the Heirs had inherited from the Epon, such as the barrier generator and the enforcers. The idea was that if the equipment was going to be taken by aliens, it was better to destroy it than let them have it.

In the current situation, this was a worthy concern.

“Set a five minute timer on the generator,” ordered Triezal. “I’ll handle the enforcers when things get to that point.”

Accepting his orders, the technician immediately began setting up the generator’s implosion timer, while Triezal turned to assist with the invaders. He wasn’t confident with his odds, but Triezal knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t make the attempt.

The martial artists who had entered the barrier were of varying levels, and two had already been dealt with by the enforcers by the time Triezal moved to help. The rest had a higher threshold of skill, mostly core formation practitioners. Still, this was also within the enforcer’s ability to handle. The problem was one man.

The individual in question was a quite handsome sei, his features sharp and refined, while his movements were brutal and uncompromising. He was fending off an enforcer by himself, taking advantage of his prodigious physical might. If Triezal had to guess, he would wager the man to be in the realm of a spirit refiner. In fact, he was certain of it. After all, his face matched that of a rather important figure within the Hadal Clan, one whom Astna had been sure to inform him of simply due to his importance. Juen Hadal, considered most likely to become the heir to the position of the clan leader.

The man, Juen, smirked as he continued to handle the enforcer, even able to split his attention as he glanced over to Triezal and Zalnaru.

“You’re Triezal, aren’t you?” he asked. “I’ve seen your image in some of the briefings. You’re quite highly ranked, aren’t you? I’d prefer if you would surrender, but I’m happy to kill you as well.”

Triezal gritted his teeth as he whipped his twin pistols out, immediately firing them at different martial artists. One of the shots clipped another martial artist, putting her in a tough position that soon found her bisected by an enforcer’s blade, while the other was swiftly dodged by the spirit refiner, who quickly shifted position the moment Triezal pressed the trigger.

Triezal frowned, confirming one piece of intel which had been present in Astna’s file. Juen was suspected to have used a popular technique among the Hadal Clan as his cerebral core, one which greatly enhances the user’s senses. Moreover, he seemed quite proficient in taking advantage of it, a matter which was extremely problematic for him.

One of his bullets tore its way through Juen’s chest, but the spirit refiner didn’t even falter, as if no meaningful damage had been dealt at all.

“Oh, you’re quite good, for a mortal,” laughed Juen Hadal.

“Won’t you also age and die some day?” asked Triezal, firing again. “You don’t really think you’ll be able to become an immortal, do you?”

Juen’s smile wavered slightly, but he didn’t stop swinging his staff, denting the thick armor of the enforcer before him. The mech’s blade arm slammed down, but the martial artist’s physical strength was actually enough to restrain it. At this distance, the enforcer was suppressed completely between his physical strength and the momentum devouring mist which cloaked him in green.

“Much closer than you will ever be, Celan,” he snarled, smashing down with his staff such that the enforcer toppled, unable to remain steady on its feet. He then leapt over its prone form, charging towards Triezal, who backed up, firing his pistols towards the man.

Triezal was very aware of his own mortality. If he was being honest, he had to admit that he sometimes felt bitter about that fact, but he had little desire to waste his entire life in a doomed quest for immortality. Even the ageless would one day die, after all. It was true for mortals and ascendants alike. Triezal was still young, anyway. The issue was not pressing yet.

More importantly, Triezal did not see a short life as less inherently meaningful than a long one. Perhaps it was a cultural difference.

As Juen approached, Triezal took another backstep, and he activated the machine strapped to his chest, sending out a blast of repulsive force cloaked in orange smoke with which to make some more space. However, Juen merely absorbed the force with his own smoke, the much larger cloud of genesis suppressing Triezal’s flickering miasma. Triezal cursed as he was forced to dive away from the martial artist’s heavy pole.

“You can still surrender,” laughed Juen. “Not that it matters to me. Just by being here I’ve already achieved my goal.”

Triezal chuckled as he rolled back to his feet, quickly exchanging his magazines as he activated his boots, starting to slide.

“Do I strike you as a coward?” he asked. “Everyone here has signed their own death warrant. We are ready and prepared for it.”

“Then why don’t you just let it happen?” sneered Juen, moving in a rapid burst of speed that harried Triezal.

“Wouldn’t I feel embarrassed if I died without company? I think you’d make a great travel partner.”

This time, rather than dive, Triezal merely ducked under the pole, taking advantage of the weapon’s nature. It was extremely heavy, and despite the fact that he would likely die if he took one hit, the momentum was difficult to shift, even for someone as strong as Juen. Because of this, Triezal’s boots stayed planted on the ground, paring the surface off of the stone ground with a faint searing noise which was barely audible over the sound of gunfire. He quickly moved beyond Juen’s range again, able to get off a few more shots.

“You’re quite good,” grunted Juen, taking another shot in the chest, but making another pass. This time, Triezal failed to dodge completely, the staff clipping him on the side of his chest. He grunted as several ribs cracked, and Triezal knew this would be the end of his participation in the battle. His chestplate cracked and exploded from the damage, forcing Juen back and sending Triezal skidding over twenty feet along the ground, further damaging his body and equipment. He groaned as he draped a scratched and bleeding arm out, trying to get back to his feet. His pistols had been dropped somewhere along the way

Juen glanced across the field of battle to where Triezal had landed, and laughed.

“I’ll save you for later,” he said, changing course to charge at one of the remaining enforcers. Fortunately for Triezal, the man knew how to prioritize. A heavily injured combatant without guns was simply not as vital a target at the moment, particularly when there was nowhere to run.

The urge to grab at the knife that he always kept strapped to his side was severe, but Triezal restrained it. While he believed he would be able to catch Juen off guard with it, and perhaps kill him, creating a lesion here was a poor idea. Even at best, it would only solve the immediate problem, while creating many more. Even if he were to disregard the difficulty in hiding one here, the forward base would quickly become inhospitable if there were a lesion located inside.

And then the Pantheonic Government would arrive.

They were always present, no matter where one went on the station or what they did. Their oppressive nature affected every decision he and the other high ranking members of the Heirs made. Everything was about restraining themselves, bribing the government, not crossing lines they should not. They were second class citizens, but had to work through the system anyway.

Even though this war did not involve the Staiven at all, they were still just as important as either of the sides.

Triezal hissed, watching the remaining martial artists begin to slaughter the rest of the base’s soldiers with a dead look in his eyes. He turned away, shuffling awkwardly on injured legs towards the downward stairwell. The forward base was doomed, and it was now time for him to make his escape.

He hobbled down, past a squad of soldiers moving upwards to assist, prepared to give up their lives, and finally reached the restaurant that was his private space. Inside, he shambled towards the kitchen, within which he had stored a large stone block, roughly the size of a suitcase.

The block was composed of a smooth brown stone, its surface cracked and pitted as if it had been left in the elements for centuries, despite the fact that it had been recovered from space. At various uneven intervals, small spikes of metal stuck out, like nails embedded into the rock surface. These nails slightly glowed, a pale yellow light emanating from within that shed light on the kitchen area around him.

It was a relic of the Jankari, scavenged by the Epon during the long pilgrimage that had taken them to this distant part of the galaxy where they now resided. This was one of the items that had been stored temporarily on Tseludia for safekeeping, along with the Shade Rachel and other items. Luckily, the Riverfiend had shown no interest in any of these priceless artifacts.

This particular artifact was not one of a kind, instead many of its type had been discovered by the various different spacefaring races who had scavenged the Jankari’s wreckage for treasure. This design was called a sending stone, and had the peculiar ability to near instantaneously transport itself to the other sending stones in its area.

Just as Triezal moved to activate the ancient machine, there was a loud crack, and Triezal felt the telltale rumble of an explosion beneath his feet. He cursed as he dove for the sending stone, activating several of his implants and equipment in an attempt to preserve himself. His flesh tore from the force he had sent through it, but at this point he could not bring himself to care. The rumble continued unceasing, and rapidly the floor began to fall from under his feet, crashing down as the stone crumbled under the force of the blast.

The world turned dark as the ceiling collapsed down atop him.

The Jankari: [An ancient civilization, perhaps the earliest advanced civilization in Telles, the Jankari had an interstellar empire before the Telaretians had even reached the stone age. It is unclear just what led to their downfall, but some say they were wiped out by the ascendants after making first contact. Little is known about the Jankari’s physical appearance, as so bodies have been found, however they appear to have been a bit larger than the average size of modern races. While all that is left of the Jankari is ruins, these ruined worlds and stations contain ancient relics that showcase understanding of miasma and reality far beyond modern technology. Most attempts to understand or reverse engineer Jankari relics have failed, though some races have discovered the basics of activating and utilizing them. Some conspiracy theories claim that the reason the Jankari were so advanced in such an early era is because they were actually survivors from the previous universe, which they refer to as Effelzi, following its destruction.]