The silvery sleek hangar bay of Ra’s lower level at the city’s south-side bore the scars of battle; this place was won by blood. And for Abel, the architect of this small victory was in front of him.
“Captain Enosh, I presume?”
The black-armored Dragonguard nodded as he extended a hand. “Glad you could make it, Abel Ramsey of Earth.”
Abel shook the Cainite’s bracer-covered hand. “Likewise. Apologies for the slight delay.”
“Yes,” Enosh said. “One of my men reported it to me. You have just rescued the Sethite woman Nia Ennis, His Majesty’s bride, from falling through the sky. Quite the daring move you did there.”
Abel felt cold sweat all over his skin as he heard Enosh’s words; he was not sure how to proceed. Every fibre of his being cried out in defense of Nia, to warn the captain not to overstep his boundaries.
Enosh, for his part, noticed the Earthman’s discomfort. “I know what is in your mind, Abel Ramsey. Be at ease for I have no intention of informing Emperor Cain of this.”
Abel furrowed his brows. “Oh?”
“Do not take this the wrong way, Abel Ramsey,” Enosh said, his voice flustered. “I am not doing this for your sake, or anyone in your little band. I simply recognized the obvious fact that we need to cooperate to reach the hawk king’s palace, and so it is in my best interest not to press the issue of Nia Ennis.”
Yet even as Enosh said those words, Abel could tell that the tone was off, as if Enosh was saying them to convince himself as much as to convince Abel.
“I understand,” Abel said.
“I hope you do,” responded Enosh. “I will rescue Thalya from the clutches of that foul Horus, minor issues be damned.”
Abel nodded in agreement, yet he couldn’t help but focus on the Dragonguard’s words. Just Thalya? Don’t you mean Princess Thalya? he thought. Yet Abel chose not to press that issue.
The path to King Horus and by extension Princess Thalya would not be an easy one. As Emperor Cain had pointed out before, the Floating City of Ra was made mostly for flying people, meaning gaps and hard to reach spots. The Royal Palace of Horus itself was infused heavily with float-stones and so hovered over the Floating City itself, kept in place by chains and only accessible by non-flyers through a retractable stairs from the palace’s very gates.
For Abel, Enosh’s strategy to deal with this problem could be summarized by a phrase he knew well from Earth history: island hopping. Cainite soldiers would jump across “islands” of city districts, and once taken, the engineers of Cain would either extend any bridge or construct one themselves.
A bold strategy, especially since Enosh planned for himself to take point. And with Cain’s fleet busy with the battle against the Hawk Fleet, air support could not be counted on. This was going to be a grueling battle.
With all this in mind, Abel also set up his own plans for the Star Surfer crew. They were divided into two groups: Group Dragon and Group Turtle.
Group Dragon was to assist the Cainite push. It consisted of Abel, whose wings of fire had given him the gift of flight, and the Lion Chief Muwatalli as well as his sister Asmunikal. Neither Muwatalli nor Asmunikal was pleased at the prospect of fighting alongside the very people responsible for their own’s suffering, but they put their history and bitterness aside.
Group Turtle existed to address one important issue: the hangar had multiple entrances, and so was vulnerable to counterattacks. Thus, a holding force was needed to defend the place. Rick, Melia—not to mention Turtey, and the lionmen warriors were to hold the hangar, especially with the bulk of the Cainite soldiers away for the offensive push. Rick accepted the assignment well enough, but it was Melia who was glad to be defending the hangar. After all, defending the hangar meant defending the Star Surfer, and defending the Star Surfer meant defending Nia, who was still unconscious on the ship.
…
“You have your orders,” Abel said, looking back towards the Star Surfer and by extension his crew.
The ensuing roars of the lionmen drowned out any other response, a reminder of what Abel and his crew had accomplished at the Dour Plains.
Muwatalli thus walked over to Abel’s side, who greeted him,
“Are you ready, Chief Muwatalli?”
The Lion Chief growled with exasperation. “I am as ready as I can be.”
Abel smirked, but then he looked to see the other lion sibling, and saw that Asmunikal was in an embrace with Rick.
“Nike,” Abel called, approaching the couple.
And the UEC Captain did so just as the happy couple kissed, and was lost in each other’s arms.
“Lieutenant,” Abel said, his tone gruff.
Now finished with the kiss, Rick looked to Abel, and gave off a mock innocent look. “What? It’s for luck.”
Abel gave Rick a stern look. But far from intimidated, Rick doubled down.
“I think you’re just jealous that you can’t kiss your own girlfriend right now.”
Abel was ready to retort. Unfortunately for the poor Captain, Melia was nearby, and she was paying close attention to the conversation. And Melia decided to chime in,
“Is that true, Abel?”
“M-Melia?!”
“When are you going to kiss Nia?”
Abel’s face turned crimson red; he considered reminding Melia that he did kiss Nia, but came to the conclusion that doing such a thing would, if anything, deepen his embarrassment.
So the good Captain did the only thing he could think of: deflect with a, “Never mind that, Melia. Get back to your post. All of you. And you’re coming with me, Nike.”
Asmunikal nodded to obey, but her mischievous grin showed that she enjoyed this exchange perhaps a little too much.
The Floating City of Ra was awash in battle; as the fleets of Horus and Cain fought over the skyscrapers, soldiers fought on the city streets. The public square was buzzing with warriors, not just hawk warriors flying with their wings, but also red-skinned Cainites flying with their wings of fire.
Hawk warriors had their lances and maces, and their lances fired blue lasers, striking down the Kruptosians. But the red-skinned warriors of Kruptos maintained their offensive; from the ground, phasers—now set to kill—struck down hawk warriors, sending them crashing down to the streets. Flying Kruptosians upon their wings of fire took out their swords of obsidian, red and black in color. The close-up clash of obsidian and vibro-steel, swords and maces, were bloody, and warriors dropped from the air like flies.
But Cain’s army maintained their offensive, not just through firepower but also their erstwhile allies.
Abel, with his wings of fire, had gotten airborne also. Seeing a hawk warrior from a distance, Abel took out his pistol and fired, dropping the hawkman down to the streets.
Then, a voice cried from the back, feline and feminine. “Abel, look out!”
Abel turned and saw a hawkman upon him with his mace lifted up, ready to strike. But a knife from below struck the hawk warrior’s hand. Abel quickly drew his stun baton and struck the warrior—electricity coursed through the hawkman and he soon dropped below.
Yet the UEC Captain was not out of trouble just yet. A hawkman flew in approach, mace in hand, ready to attack. Abel maintained his stance, ready for battle. But he was to be denied that fight…
A huge spear flew from below, piercing the hawkman.
Abel finally looked down to see his allies responsible; Muwatalli had thrown the spear that pierced the hawkman, and Asmunikal was the one responsible for the knife that saved Abel from a mace strike.
“Thanks, you two,” Abel cried.
The two lion siblings waved in return.
But this was not time to relax just yet. Close by, from another “island” district, a group of hawk warriors approached with speed, knocking down Cainites unfortunate enough to have gotten in the way. Yet one remained, a familiar figure in black armor and bearing the red and black obsidian sword, the Dragonguard Captain Enosh—now fighting for his life.
“Abel of Ramsey,” Muwatalli roared. “Bring me up to the sky. I have a plan.”
“Copy that,” responded Abel.
Abel quickly flew down taking Muwatalli up with both hands, then rose back to the sky. And with the swarm of hawkman still upon them, Abel spoke,
“What’s your plan, Chief?”
“Throw me at the hawks. The Cainite captain is proving to be an excellent distraction.”
Abel raised his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Do it.”
Thus, Abel rose further up for altitude. First he flew in a circle, earning momentum, and as he flew in the direction of the hawkmen, he let go, launching Muwatalli like a cannonball towards the swarm of hawks.
Muwatalli landed on the first one, feet first, and upon connection sent the hawkman crashing at mach speed. He quickly jumped to a nearby hawkman, and headbutted him, sending him down as well. Then jumped to another hawkman and launched a punch. This happened so quickly Abel couldn’t help but watch in shock and amazement. But he quickly refocused himself and launched himself into the group to help.
Enosh, surprised as well at the nature of the assistance, did not question the gift and fought as well.
Thus, Abel and Enosh fought side-by-side, the UEC Captain with the stun baton, the Dragonguard Captain with the obsidian sword.
Yet the final strike would have been completed by Muwatalli who took the last hawkman, grabbed him by the torso, and slammed him down to the streets of a nearby district.
Then when the dust settled, Muwatalli looked up to the flying men, and roared in victory.
Abel looked down, eyes widened at what he had just witnessed.
As if reading Abel’s mind, Enosh interjected, “Truly this is the power of the Lion Tribe.”
“Yeah,” Abel said. “I’m starting to understand why Emperor Cain doesn’t want to arm the lions with flight now. Can you imagine a flying Muwatalli? Not even the combined forces of Earth and Kruptos will be able to stop him.”
Enosh chuckled. “Is that a joke, Abel Ramsey?”
“Depends,” responded Abel. “Did you find it funny?”
“Perhaps.”
The two men laughed heartily. It was as if just for a minute, the two Captains were genuine comrades rather than allies of convenience.
“You’ve saved my life, Abel Ramsey. Regardless of what the future will bring, you have my gratitude,” Enosh said.
Abel coughed, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome. But be sure to thank Chief Muwatalli as well.”
Enosh nodded in affirmative.
And so, Cain’s army continued their advance, jumping to several districts one-by-one, each separated by chasms and bridge-less gaps.
Lady Actae, or rather Queen Claudia of Ra rushed through the halls of the Royal Palace. The battle had been raging on the streets outside, so she figured that Horus would not be in his personal chambers. Instead, she rushed to the throne room, where a war council had surely been called upon. All the generals and magistrates of Ra would be called upon to strategize.
But to her horror, she was greeted by a completely different sight in the opulent great hall.
On the winged throne of Ra sat King Horus, as he should be. Though the goblet in his hand was not reassuring. The part that was wrong, the part that was blasphemous was the red-skinned whore of a woman lying atop the hawkman as if they were having a feast instead of a war.
And where was everyone else? Where was the war council?
“My lord,” Actae cried, her breath ragged.
“Ah, Actae,” Horus said, slurring. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”
Actae bowed. “I was… meditating, Your Highness. Forgive me for making you worry.
“If I may be bold to ask, my lord. Where is the war council? We are under attack, as you surely know.”
Horus shrugged, and took a gulp of wine. “We don’t need no war council. The people of Ra are more than capable of defending themselves. My lovely Thalya said so herself. Isn’t that right?”
“Indeed, my love,” Thalya said, caressing the hawk king’s cheek.
Actae’s eyes widened; she could not believe the nightmare she got herself into. And the witch was surely responsible for it. Then, a thought came to her, a missing woman…
“Where’s Lady Nia, my lord?”
As he heard this, Horus frowned. “Do not mention her name again, Actae. Nia Ennis is a traitor and a liar. She was working with Cain, helping him coordinate this invasion. I sentenced her to walk the plank. As Thalya herself has witnessed to.”
“W-what?” Actae cried, her tone uncharacteristically shrill. “Lady Nia is not a traitor! That doesn’t make any… you have been fooled… my lord.”
Horus paused, looking down. “Fooled you say?” He looked past Thalya and towards Actae. “By who?”
Actae took a deep breath; knowing full well the consequences of wrong speech or even the wrong manner of speech, she controlled her temper and finally spoke, “You have been tricked by Lady Thalya, my lord. She is the traitor, she has convinced you to not hold a war council, to not strengthen our defenses so her father will have an easier time conquering all of Ra.”
“Oh,” Thalya interjected; she looked to Horus, her eyes pleading. “Your servant has slandered me so, my darling. The nerve of her.”
The minds of Horus were darkened, and his vision clouded. It had been so for some time. Yet there was a little bit of light, fighting through—fighting what seemed to be a losing battle.
Horus looked to Actae, his expression grim. “You know not what you say, Actae. Because I favor you so, I shall overlook your slanderous outburst. But Thalya… she is different than all the rest. She is the first to have truly loved me since… her.”
Actae cringed inwardly. You don’t believe that, my lord, she thought. She opened her mouth, ready to confess it all, ready to tell her beloved king of the truth, of who she really was.
“That being said,” Horus continued, “you have a point about the war council. Thalya means well, but it is paramount that we organize a defense of the city. Actae, gather the generals and the magistrates.”
“It’s… it’s too late, my lord,” Actae said. “Some of the generals and magistrates are in battle already, either on the streets or in the sky. And parts of the city have been taken or currently under siege. Best we can do now is to establish remote communications.”
“Argh,” Horus cried in anger. “Then do what you can.”
“Yes, my lord,” Actae said, nodding.
So she began the work of setting up the communication nodes, and the opportunity to confess her true identity slipped at the moment.
The hangar bay, having been won by blood now had to be defended by blood. From the west entrance, hawk soldiers began to swarm in. The lion warriors, spears in one hand, shields in another, held together in a phalanx formation. Not exactly the most comfortable position for the normally individualistic lionmen warriors, but Ricardo the Smith, the brother-by-marriage of Chief Muwatalli had deigned it so. At the back was Parthas, screaming out his orders like a centurion.
The hawkmen crashed into the lines of lionmen, but the lions held firm. Blood, sweat, and screams dominated. But the hawk warriors found themselves torn to shreds by the lionmen gone berserk. The key breakthrough came through the gift of flight, a squad of hawkmen flew past the battle below them, where their brethren were being slaughtered.
Now past the battle lines of the lions, the hawk warriors felt they were free, inside and unimpeded. Instead, high-pressure brine struck them down. Another high-pressure water beam fired, and struck them again for good measure.
One hawkmen was left, but the thundering sound of arquebus rang, and he collapsed to the floor as well.
Atop a stack of boxes—makeshift elevation—Rick watched in satisfaction as the wave had been beaten back. For now.
Rick looked to Melia, smiling. “Good job, shark girl.”
“You are welcome, Ricardo,” responded Melia, smiling. “Or is it Rick?”
“Whatever floats your boat,” Rick said.
Melia looked on curiously. “Floats… my boat? Why would I float a boat when it would be better off underwater?”
“Oh, right, you’re a shark girl. Never mind.”
But a breach opened, this time from the east. A squad of hawks flew past the few lionmen, and headed straight for Rick and Melia.
“Turtey!” Melia cried.
And as if on cue, Turtey began lumbering forward as Rick and Melia took shelter behind him. The Aquaean sea turtle fired a beam of brine, striking down chunks of hawkmen.
Behind the armored shell of Turtey, Rick aimed his arquebus and fired, sending the last hawkmen falling to the ground.
And with that bit of enemy wave taken down, Rick yelled,
“Parthas! Peel off some men from the west. The east needs patching.”
“Yes, Ricardo,” responded Parthas. “It will be done.”
Melia interjected, “Phew, that was a close one.”
“No kidding,” Rick said. “I was thinking of camping on the Star Surfer’s roof for vantage. Good thing I didn’t, that would have left me isolated when that hawk broke in.”
The dreams were hazy. Images of battles; clashes of steel, screams, and blood. Then, falling. An angel with wings of fire, a kiss. Then, nothing.
Abel.
Nia opened her eyes to the cozy comfort of her quarters. She heard screams outside, and the sounds of movement she couldn’t even begin to identify. But it was rather familiar, it was as it was at the concentration camp.
A battle, right outside. Surely.
Turned to her side, Nia saw it, on the nightstand: her medic gun.
It was then she remembered Abel’s voice, spoken when she was unconscious, but somehow she heard, and she remembered:
“Job’s not finished.”
Thanks for reading. If you love my work, consider supporting my work through one of the following:
Buy my books:
Tip via Buy Me A Coffee.
Bitcoin: bc1qydz05wsjqmuhqv6yu6zr0l45wewzhgkg96xqt0
Thank you in advance for your support, it keeps me writing and helps me considerably. Germanicus Publishing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
UEC
The UEC Stories
·
March 7, 2024
An overview of the United Earth Coalition (UEC) in the Age of Exploration
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.