Page 46 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
Until the lift door slides open, the anticipation stokes my Rush, pumping it through my veins like boiling oil. “Defensive positions!” I roar, activating my arc shield, which flickers to life in an azure shimmer covering my entire physique. The others follow suit, together forming a protective wall of blue that encompasses the width of the corridor.
In an instant, a dozen attack drones whirl out of the lift, sleek disc shapes with pulsar weapons bristling. The sight of them fills me with disappointment, as murdering drones is such a tedious and impersonal affair. Indeed, there is no battle cry nor bravado, only a cold, efficient barrage of green pulsar unleashed in our direction.
The green bolts assault our shields with jarring force, yet we hold firm, unmovable and eternal as a mountain. We Klendathians are the greatest warriors in the known universe, honed by countless battles to a razor’s edge of brutal intent. In unison, we return fire from our arc blasters over the top of our protective shields. Green and blue bolts spark and sizzle, exchanged throughout the corridor, casting a kaleidoscope of hues marking our imminent victory.
I watch the drones take hits from our arc blasters, their green pulsar shields glow bright, trying with hopeless effort to resist the molten heat, the reflection of the Rush blazing in our eyes. Yet they are no match, their shields wilt, extinguished by the pitiless, liquifying super-heated destruction, that carry on dissolving through their armor like snow before a scorching sun.
In mere moments, the final buzzing of the drones halts, leaving behind only the cracking, sizzling sound of their melted robotic remains. I survey the once pristine and opulent corridor, now reminiscent of a war zone, laden with corpses, bullet holes and partly melted surfaces, complete with the potent smell of choking weapons discharge and scorched flesh.
“They think to defeat us with such as these?” Noroth waves his glowing arc blaster gauntlet with disdain over the robotic carnage, his voice laced with contempt.
My eyes flicker to Logarn, pleased to see he’s still in control of his psychotic rage. “Indeed, not even enough to provoke Logarn,” I state, giving the blonde-hair youth a hearty slap across his back. “Still, if these drones were sent by the security forces and not the Gorglaxians, we’re in for a long battle,” I add, the thought is a troubling one.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Noroth assures, whistling from his broad, smashed face.
Yet I remain skeptical as the image of us running back to the ship darting between hundreds of thousands of attack dronesinspires little confidence. Regardless, the first thing we need to do is exit Fluxom Paradise, the name now a twisted misnomer.
The door to my right opens, compelling the three of us to turn with our arc blasters raised, ready to extinguish any threat. A tiny Glaseroid its gender I cannot discern peeks out with beady frantic eyes as it observes the total carnage of the corridor. I suppress a laugh, noticing its antenna and arm limbs flutter with panic as I place a finger to my lips—a call for silence.
The insectoid darts back into its room, slamming the door shut behind it. Glancing at many of the opened room doors, it appears many guests have already fled, with only the stubborn or the hard of hearing remaining. As I lower my weapon, I hasten towards the lift, the golden doors still open and beckoning with a promise of escape.
As Noroth sets a heavy foot inside, a snapping groaning sound echoes in the distance, filling me with a sense of dread. With an instinctual movement and pounding heart, I grip Noroth’s back armor, yanking him backward with all the speed and strength the Gods have bestowed upon me, sending him clattering to the ground. He grunts in protest and shock for the briefest moment, before the lift drops like a boulder rolled from a cliff. We stare wide eyed in an eerie silence until an immense crash and bang shakes the very foundations of the building, cascading from the bowels below.
“Sneaky bastards!” I exclaim, edging closer to inspect the yawning chasm of the elevator shaft.
“Drones and now this!” Noroth roars, his voice laden with rage as he clambers to his feet. “Have they no honor?”
“They lack honor. Only a twisted thirst for revenge, fueled by hatred, drives them,” I reply, examining the doorway in the open lift shaft that leads towards the ominous stairwell. “But the treacherous Triandale will find only death at our hands,” I add, flashing a fanged smile at both my companions.
Noroth responds with a resounding pounding to his chest, his lips curling into a confident smile. With a nod, I turn to navigate through the open abyssal shaft once again, beckoning to the others to follow while mindful of the flimsy metal beams creaking under our impressive mass. The narrow metal groans with a sudden loudness which hastens my steps and tightens my chest, prompting me to leap the remaining distance in panic.
A wave of shameful relief washes over me as I enjoy the comforting sensation of the solid ground under my feet, devoid of any precarious yawning drops. “You leap and flutter like a frightened puffrio chick!” Noroth mocks as he joins me, traversing the abyssal lift shaft as if he’s strolling through Draxxi Forest.
“After all the borack steak and ales you consumed, I feared the beam would break under your flabbiness,” I retort with a hint of playful banter lacing my words as Logarn steps across to join us, moving as if he had not a care in the universe.
Noroth scuffs, “Pure Klendathian muscle here, brother,” he replies, strolling towards the stairwell, maintaining his confident demeanor.
Yet I have my doubts about what awaits us below, prompting me to place a halting hand stopping Noroth in his tracks. “Wait,” I command, as my ears strain, picking up the faint sound of movement and hushed breathing below, confirming my suspicions. “They’re expecting us. Engage cloaking and get a visual,” I add.
Noroth nods a solemn acknowledgment as he dons his warvisor. In an instant, his form shimmers and becomes translucent, mirroring the surrounding environment, appearing invisible while remaining motionless. The fact his warvisor is not a forgery like mine brings a sense of relief.Someone stole my mask onboard the Mutalisk Hammer after my battle with the monstrous Mutalisk.
The thought that right now some treacherous crew member is attempting to sell my sacred warvisor causes my face to twist into a snarl as my blood boils and seethes threatening to erupt into murderous fury. With a concerted effort, I redirect my troubling thoughts back to more pressing matters, seeking bloody vengeance on the one responsible... Triandale.
Noroth wastes no time approaching the stairwell, only his quick movements betray his presence as his warvisor induced cloaking struggles to keep up. I can just make his shimmering outline, peering down at him from our vantage point as he approaches the breach I created escaping floor seventy-one earlier.
With his back pressed against the wall, Noroth peeks his head through the breach. He mustn’t like what he sees as he turns darting back up the stairwell, his heavy boots echoing through the space in frantic urgency. Indeed, the deafening sounds of many snapping ballistic and zapping pulsar and graviton fire thunder out annihilating the deceptive silence.
The stairwell erupts into a hail of bullets which careen and ricochet, embedding themselves into the stone surfaces. Green pulsar and obsidian orbs always crash into the surroundings, rending huge fissures from the walls, and warping and twisting massive chucks from the ground. After one burst, the room below is already a chaotic, dusty, broken mess.
“Now, that’s a frightened puffrio chick!” I mock, laughing at Noroth’s scramble up the stairwell.
“You’d be running too! A dozen or so of the bastards, fortified in an entrenched position,” Noroth reports. His shimmering form stands before me until he removes his warvisor, revealing his shocked expression and full appearance.
The sensation of a trap tightening around my throat urges me to scratch the back of my neck. “They can detect our cloaking and we can’t stay here. They’ll likely pull the entire buildingdown in their desperation to kill us,” I reply. The thought of charging through their position may work, however, with Noroth injured and Logarn’s bloodlust. The chance of success leaves a lot to be desired.
“We need a diversion to disrupt their entrenchment,” I declare, letting out a large exhale as a terrible, yet brilliant, idea forms in my mind. “Wait here for my signal, then join the fray, rending them to bloody pieces,” I command, my gaze flickering between the pair.
Noroth expression shifts to a frown. “What signal?” he inquires, inspecting his arc blaster gauntlet.