Entry Teams Anton and Berta forced their way to the main surface of Vogelheim through the cargo lift from the farm and orchard, which had a direct connection to the hydroponics gardens in Engineering. Ten Volker-class Divers took the lifts up in groups of two until they were all assembled on the hilly terrain. They did not marvel at the scenery for very long.
With a ponderous gait, the nearly 7 meter tall machines began to stomp their way toward the villa and town. While remaining a cohesive unit through wireless communications, which worked through Vogelheim’s air far better than in the water, they separated about 100 to 200 meters from one another and began to traverse the fake countryside, moving into the forests, across the fields. On their arms, they hefted sturmgewehr assault rifles. These 37 mm guns fired explosive shells with enough firepower to demolish a two-story home in a single three-round burst.
Moving through air was far different than water. They could make significant speeds in the water, but on land they moved at a few kilometers per hour. Though their turbines could suck in air for a little boost, it could, at most, stabilize their weight and balance during a 10-20 km/h sprint rather than the 80 or 90 or even 100 km/h that they could develop at full power when submerged.
Between their speed, and the size of the machines, Victoria could easily see them coming. However, she knew that her chances were not optimistic.
She was heavily outnumbered. She could count on no support. She was not significantly better armed, but the Jagd was faster and lighter, even on land. All of these facts quickly assembled in her head and gave her a practical course of action.
Her objective was not to save the station. She hoped Marina and Elena were clear away from the battlefield by now. There was no way she would get all of them. But she would make a ruckus.
She had enough drugs in her system to dampen the pain and heighten the adrenaline.
Hiding in the forest, under her active camouflage tarp, she found herself in the middle of the Volkisch’ formation, when taking into the account the full width of the attack. Three Volkers were combing the forest near her, four were farther afield toward the false coast, and the rest were traversing the hills and fields downstream from the forest. In her mind, there were six Volkers that posed the most immediate threat to the Villa, and she would have to let the other four lie.
“Get closer.” She whispered to herself.
Her Dive computer, enjoying the luxury of scanning through air instead of water, gave her nearly flawless prediction of their movements and positions. On one screen she had the leaked maps of Vogelheim, which she marked with the real-time enemy locations. Second generation Divers could have electronic warfare packages, alerting them to her presence due to her scanning in the environment. Volkers’ computers were not so sophisticated. They relied on a ship to do any electronic warfare and scanning for them. And there was no ship looking at her position.
In addition, the Volkisch, novices at fighting on land, were enamored with their radios. There was such a novelty to being able to speak wirelessly, with such great clarity. Nobody would shut up, and nobody was taught proper discipline. They did not understand the range at which anyone could pick their unencrypted voices up.
“This is Anton-2, moving into the forest.”
“Beautiful place. Weird damage in the sky. Should we be worried about that?”
“Our orders are to capture the Villa. No one’s going to play engineer until we do that.”
“Identify yourselves when you speak? Commander, where are you at?”
“Fine. This is Anton-Actual, I’m in the middle of the forest.”
“Okay, so I’m still by your side. Fighting on land is so weird! Keep me safe, Commander.”
“Oh shut up, quit being a wuss.”
“I’m the only girl here! Isn’t it your social role as big tough men to protect me?”
“If you’re out on the front lines, you’re just a man to me.”
“Hey Commander, do you believe the the same thing about ol’ Fuhrer Sawyer?”
“No woman here is more a man than that Sawyer. No man here, either.”
Victoria cracked a vicious little grin in the shadow of her cockpit, listening to everything.
She touched one specific unit marker on the screen. The one closest to her.
“I’ve got you, ‘Commander’.” She said to herself, feeling a sudden rush of satisfaction.
When she began her attack, she began from a position of near-perfect stealth.
Twenty-five meters away, a Volker stomped through the gaps in the woods, knocking down any younger, thinner trees and ripping up any bushes in its way. Assault rifle at its chest, pointing at nothing. It moved directly into her field of vision. Victoria pulled back her sticks and striggers.
Throwing off the camouflage tarp, the Jagd stood and fired off her jet anchors.
From her shoulders, two unfolding hooks on steel cable flew toward the Volker.
Before it could react, she hooked it between the arms, but the location scarcely mattered.
“Contact!” screamed the Commander, “I’ve been hit by something–!”
Motors inside the Jagd’s shoulder pulled on the enemy Volker. Rather than budge the enemy, what they did was help Victoria dash toward it.
She sprang forward out of her cover and drove her jet lance into the back of the Volker.
Her charge was so vicious she briefly lifted the enemy Volker onto her arm.
A miniaturized cannon coil along with a solid fuel booster propelled the jet lance. Once engaged, the lance sprang instantly from inside the housing like a bullet. Extending a meter and a half from the wrist, the lance stabbed clean through enemy armor.
Hot metal was punched into the cockpit with such force the front hatch blew open.
Her lance perforated the backpack and cockpit so quickly it blew smoke out the other end.
Victoria didn’t even hear a death rattle through the radio.
Reversing the coil mechanism, the spike was retracted back into its neutral firing position. Upon returning, the lance point was caked in gore.
The Volker dropped onto the ground, unmoving, bearing wounds the size of a human torso. All of this happened in scarcely seconds.
“Contact! Contact in the forest!”
The Volkisch descended into hysterical shouting over the radio.
Without their commander they were in disarray.
From the woods, two more Volkers lumbered into view, hefting their assault rifles.
Sucking in air through her turbines, Victoria took the Jagd into a sudden sprint.
Heavy footfalls scored the soft earth. She would have fallen, were it not for the air blasting out of the back of the machine. It had a small effect on the top speed achievable by the mecha on land but pulling in air through it and blowing it out the back kept the machine’s weight stabilized, preventing it from tipping over in any direction as it ran out into the open.
As soon as she dashed out, the enemy had seen her. She adjusted her center of balance and hit a quick turn, trying to sweep around their flank.
“Open fire! Open fire!”
Sturmgewehr barrels flashed relentlessly. Bursts of 37mm rounds flew past Victoria, tearing up trees and turf, setting bushes alight.
Her attackers did not count on the far lesser resistance of air against their bullets.
They overcompensated, used to shooting in water, and shot everything but her. She quickly whipped back around and dashed toward the Volkers.
Between the chassis and arms, wedged into the shoulders, her two machine guns swung on their limited horizontal and vertical traverse. All of the Jagd’s weapons were intended for close quarters to essentially hit whatever the Jagd was facing. Inflexible, but always ready to kill. So as she charged into melee, her own cannons burned, firing off a dozen explosive rounds.
Unlike the Volkisch, Victoria had trained herself to fight both on land and in the water. Aiming almost instinctually, her own burst of gunfire peppered the Volker dead-on.
One 20 mm round was in itself far less powerful than most Naval ordnance.
Gas guns used this round to try to destroy enemy torpedoes and other soft targets.
Victoria put dozens of them into the Volker in the span of a few seconds.
Successions of tiny blasts pitted the cockpit armor then blew the hatch clean open; scored the shoulder and arm plates with round after round until finally one punched through the weakened armor and blew the arm right off; perforated the lean armor on the head and blew up the enemy’s all-around sensors, leaving them blind if they were still alive inside.
Her enemy crumpled, slumping forward with no signs of life from the pilot.
In the next moment, her sprint took her right past the corpse and upon the remaining enemy.
“Oh god! Oh god no!”
She heard the woman on the radio pleading and screaming.
Dead ahead, the remaining Volker tossed its assault rifle and quickly drew a melee weapon. A vibro-machete carried on the backpack as a last resort. Her Volkisch opponent brought up the machete in both hands and swung.
That machete had a depleted agarthicite flat and a motor that vibrated it to aid the monomolecular edge. Even this modest weapon was a feat of engineering and posed a threat if used properly. But it did not matter.
Victoria confidently threw forward her lance.
Before the weapons clashed, she engaged the jet-lance.
Her point launched forward, snapping the machete like a twig. Such was the force of the thrust that the Volker’s arm completely shattered.
The Diver fell helplessly backward, and Victoria pounced. Rearing up her own vibro-blade arm, she thrust between the Volker’s shoulder plate.
She pierced the cockpit and twisted her sword toward the pilot.
This time she did hear cries of anguish over the radio. A vibrating blade dealt greater structural damage when it clashed with a machine.
That was its only effect on metal.
For a flesh and blood human to be anywhere near an engaged vibroblade was a source of unbearable agony. Besides the heat, the thrumming would go right into the gut. It was horrifying. And soon, Victoria heard no further screaming from that cockpit. Whether the pilot had died of a heart attack, shock or choking, Victoria did not know and had no desire to confirm.
She pulled her sword out of the Diver and retracted her lance to its neutral position. Three enemies down, and several more to go. She had to make up–
“Entry teams! What is all this gibbering? Report on your situation!”
A new voice over the radio.
Victoria was briefly shocked.
As much as she had characterized the events as a battle between her and Sawyer, she had thought it would transpire through proxies, rather than having to face Sawyer herself appear–
“Advanced scanning coming from the woods! What the hell is going on?”
In that moment, Victoria detected Sawyer as well. She was in a second-generation model Diver and just clearing the orchard hills. Her Diver counter-scanned Victoria, who was still actively monitoring everything.
That red blip that represented her was charging into the forest, and fast.
“Sawyer? Ma’am, an attack! An enemy in the forest got the Commander!”
A hapless soldier started relaying the situation.
“Sawyer let’s get this fucker! Let’s surround the woods!”
“Fucking, no! We need to seal the station breaches, or everything’s fucked!”
“Ma’am, we’re not equipped for repair duty–”
“Then I’ll fucking do it! Advance on the Villa!”
Victoria turned around to face where Sawyer was coming from.
As soon as the blip got close enough, she sent out a laser request.
“Wait– One unit? And you wanna talk? You’ve got some fucking guts–”
Sawyer mindlessly accepted the laser request while berating her. In the next moment, their mecha both emerged onto a clearing in the forest.
They were instantly connected by the lasers on their sensor arrays. On video in each other’s screen, they were finally able to meet, “face to face.”
Sawyer was still the same as always.
An unembellished girl with striking cheekbones, an aquiline nose, pearl skin. Her voluminous brown hair gave her the appearance of a rustic sort of royalty, as wild and earthy as the barbarians from Veka that her Volkisch so decried. Her icy blue eyes were drawn wide, and that wonderful jaw was quivering with confusion and an obvious fury. She looked good in uniform. Victoria wished she would have never had to acknowledge that.
“You,” Sawyer paused, mouthing expletives, “You are fucking kidding me.”
Victoria felt a strong sense of anxiety and anticipation.
It might have been the drugs.
“It’s been a long time. I didn’t come here to see you, but I guess it is fate.”
“I don’t believe this shit. Victoria?” She laughed. “Victoria van Veka?”
“I’m surprised Volkisch intelligence keeps track of the romantic dalliances of us savages. But yes, I am indeed Victoria van Veka these days.”
“It’s that exact, bitchy tone of yours on that exact bitchy face. Oh my god.”
Sawyer raised her hands to her face, letting out brief bursts of laughter.
“I can’t believe it. You utter bitch. You absolute, complete fucking bitch. I should’ve put my entire fist up your fucking–”
Keep talking, you stupid brute.
Victoria quickly reoriented her priorities. She could not hope to stop the enemy anymore. Sawyer was piloting a new Diver, a Panzer unit. She did not know how Sawyer rated as a pilot, but that unit by itself spelled danger.
Heavily armored, and heavily armed. Sawyer had a tube launcher of some kind on her backpack, she likely had a sword, and she also very visibly had an assault rifle. Her second generation backpack and turbines could develop much better speed than a Volker. And that armor could probably withstand a lot more punishment than a Volker. Victoria was given pause.
Victoria’s mind was rushing, kept clear only by the chemicals. Her breathing quickened. In the water, she would have had a small advantage still, but on land? It was a desperate situation.
“I never liked bullying you, Victoria, you were too pathetic. I’ve no idea what Veka’s witch has done to you, but I’m willing to forgive you if you will turn yourself in and be useful to me–”
While Sawyer taunted her, Victoria made tiny, subtle adjustments to her machine guns.
Consumed as she was with attacking Victoria verbally, Sawyer did not notice the gentle movement of Victoria’s shoulders, as her hands, just off of Sawyer’s view, turned her control sticks with tense precision. One wrong move and Sawyer would have noticed her sleight of hand.
“It’s your turn to get bullied, Sawyer.”
Victoria was finally ready. She opened fire.
20 mm barrels flashed relentlessly, spitting bullets at Sawyer’s Panzer.
“We’ll see about that, bitch!”
Sawyer shouted, and the Panzer surged forward through the gunfire.
Across its surface, dozens of tiny blasts left dents and dings on the cockpit armor, but there was too much metal and it was too dense to be blown off. Maybe in water she could have inflicted more damage, due to the pressures involved, but in the air, the Panzer was practically unharmed. Victoria hardly paid this any mind. Her intention had not been real damage.
Instead, as Sawyer charged, Victoria engaged her thrusters, both solid fuel and her air jets. Using all of her thrust, Victoria threw the Jagd sideways.
She launched past Sawyer’s flank.
Before the Panzer recovered, Victoria turned and threw her momentum into a sword swing. Her vibroblade smashed into the side of the Panzer.
Metal debris went flying off of Sawyer’s Panzer.
Victoria had expected to cut through to the cockpit. Her blade made a ghastly wedge-shaped wound in the side of the machine’s chest.
There was still no breach.
“You can’t do shit to me, Vicky! You never could and you still can’t!”
Sawyer half-turned her bulky mecha to train her rifle on Victoria.
Victoria pulled back with all rearward thrust, withdrawing her arm.
She switched weapon control to her jet anchors and fired both.
When Sawyer opened fire the spreading hooks on one of the anchors took three blasts. It exploded in mid-air, scattering shrapnel and billowing smoke from the explosive rounds. Victoria cut loose and ejected both of the cables. Her second anchor then smashed into Sawyer’s shoulder.
Trailing behind it, the cable whipped across the Panzer’s head.
Between the jet anchor slamming it and the cable snaking over the cameras, Sawyer was momentarily distracted by the seemingly random carnage.
“What the fuck are you doing? Are you that desperate you fucking gnat?”
This was sufficient distraction for the Jagd to retreat out into the woods.
Sawyer launched manic bursts of gunfire into the forest.
Trees blasted apart, bushes went up in smoke, turf churned up everywhere. 37 mm explosive rounds were no joke, especially not in a half-dozen bursts of three. Victoria swerved from cover to cover, trying to put some distance between herself and the gunfire trailing her. She knew, at any moment–
Sawyer’s rifle ejected a spent magazine.
“God damn it! Come back here!”
The Panzer went charging into the woods after Victoria. She saw it on the rear camera, sprinting heavily while fumbling for a new magazine from those kept on stored on the waist. Victoria would not turn around and fight.
She moved the theater toward the center of the forest.
“Please be deep enough.” She mumbled to herself.
There was a large pond that she saw on the leaked maps, and it was dead ahead. It was a gamble, but if the pond were connected the way she thought, it would work. Victoria took a leap of faith.
She didn’t know whether it was her heightened senses or the drugs anymore. But she had to take a chance.
The Jagd dropped into the water and immediately took off, swimming freely within a space larger than it seemed. That pond was connected to water circulation and acted as a reservoir.
All the fresh water that was used to keep the forest ecosystem alive and irrigate the farms was filtered and collected here, and from here channeled to other places. As such, while on the surface it was a pond about the size of the farmhouse, below the water, the walls curved like a bowl and it was dozens of meters deep and wide. Had Elena ever tried to swim in it?
She would have seen the artificiality of Vogelheim firsthand.
But she was too delicate for that. She never jumped in the water to see the metal below.
Victoria adjusted immediately to underwater movement.
From an ungraceful sprint on land, it was now soaring with the grace of Veka herself. Her laser connection to Sawyer was immediately interrupted. On her monitors, the cameras adjusted to the water with filtered video.
Suddenly the Panzer dropped right in behind her and began accelerating.
In one hand Sawyer had her reloaded assault rifle; in the other, her sword.
As it gave chase in the water, the Panzer opened fire. Three rounds, then six, then nine, sailed from the gun barrel with dim flashes. Supercavitation bubbles and lines traced the water between Victoria and Sawyer.
Turning instantly, the Jagd swept away from the bullets.
They crashed into the metal walls, harmlessly exploding into vapor bubbles.
Victoria looped upside-down, soaring over Sawyer’s head.
She circled behind the Panzer and engaged the jet on her vibroblade arm.
Twirling like a dancer, using the momentum and the blade jet to overcome the resistance of the water, Victoria slashed the Panzer’s shoulder and kept moving, smashing and splitting in half the shoulder guard. When Sawyer turned and swung her sword, Victoria was no longer there to hit.
Using the Jagd’s superior mobility she swam circles around the Panzer.
Sawyer shouted with frustration that came across the scratchy video.
Victoria was no longer paying it attention. She swerved around the Panzer, avoiding bullet and blade, always a half-step ahead of Sawyer’s attacks.
When she found an opportunity, she closed in, turned and sliced.
A perfect gash across the right side of the chest to match the left.
A wide dent into the armored legs that exposed a battered joint.
Leaping skyward, over and around the Panzer, under it, across its flanks.
Sawyer began to swing furiously and helplessly.
Victoria saw an opening.
She went around the back and sliced vertically across Sawyer’s backpack.
That tube launcher she was caring was split in half.
Her sword caught in the armor.
Using that grip for leverage, she pulled the Panzer toward her. Embracing her from behind, Victoria brought her jet-lance up against the Panzer.
A shockwave blew through the water as the lance engaged.
Victoria drove the spike up through the Panzer’s flank and out the shoulder.
It was a testament to the Panzer’s armor that its entire flank didn’t explode.
“You’re breached! Eject before you drown!” Victoria shouted.
Had they been fighting in the ocean Sawyer would have died in moments. She was fortunate the water in this reservoir was maintained at the pressure it was. Her cockpit must have been slowly filling up instead.
“Sawyer! Stop this! Eject! I’m taking you into custody!”
“You stupid bitch. You– You fucked everything. Now it’s all ruined!”
Suddenly, the Panzer engaged its jets, blowing torrents of water at the Jagd.
Separating from the Jagd, the Panzer swung around just as suddenly.
Victoria could not back off in time, she was caught well off guard.
Sawyer’s vibroblade sliced into across the surface of the Jagd’s right arm. Pieces of the jet lance’s housing floated away, and solid fuel leaked out of the booster. Following up her attack, Sawyer fired off a burst of gunfire.
While the Jagd easily avoided the shots, Victoria was shaken. Her concentration and speed lagged as she felt suddenly pressured. How had the cockpit not been breached? How was this monster that survivable?
She was running out of options with which to fight back effectively.
Despite the pitted armor, various slashes, and the hole in its shoulder and back, the Panzer was still running, and Sawyer was livelier than ever.
She was shouting, furious, near incoherent.
“Victoria! That launcher was full of sealant! I was going to save this station! At every turn you have done nothing but make things worse! I’m going to make sure you never see light again, you bitch! I’m going to rip your arms off, put your eyes out, burn the skin off your tongue! I’m going to give your ears the last scritch they’ll ever get when I flay them both off your head!”
Before Victoria could respond to that tantrum, the water began to stir.
Her computers started sounding alarm.
Shockwaves were being felt across the station.
Both the Panzer and Jagd were put off balance as everything started shaking. Water was starting to rush into the reservoir.
Victoria realized the station must have been flooding profusely now.
A long, near-lightless corridor of steel and concrete connected the Villa to the mechanized underworld of Vogelheim, all Maintenance paths and tunnels connecting workspaces and devices together that kept this underwater haven alive when it should not be.
To Marina, this path was a maw to hell. Her every step was pained and hollow. Elena felt light as a feather in her arms compared to the burden that bowed her shoulders and scored a deep, black mark in her brain.
There were periodic quakes that shook the steps down so harshly Marina bumped into the wall and had to watch that she did not drop Elena or strike the Princess’ head on the surrounding metal. While unnerving for their power and proximity, what worried Marina the most was how soundless the place was. She was afraid that at any moment she would find the path below blocked by water and find herself condemned to die uselessly after having accomplished nothing.
Marina was in a daze.
She could not accurately tell the time anymore. Everything that had been palpable to her senses felt years removed. It was as if, between Bethany’s kiss and the last ten steps she took in the evacuation tunnel, hundreds of years had passed. She had wasted away, spending an eternity regretting events that transpired in seconds. How long had she been walking?
And yet, that journey came to an abrupt end.
Before she could ponder it further, the mechanical action of taking one step and then the next, holding the Princess up over her own shoulder, staring dead ahead into dark nothingness; all of it had carried her to a room that was dim but starkly better lit than the evacuation tunnel. At her side, there was a craft, aligned with a deployment chute. Yellow light from inside the craft shone too brilliantly in Marina’s face and made her squint her eyes, like a door to heaven not meant for a demon like her. Around the door, almost cherubic, were the group of Vogelheim’s maids.
Not just them, but inside the craft, Marina could see farm-hands, an engineer or two, a bartender, a kiosk vendor. People from all of Vogelheim’s little attractions. Many of them had managed to flee here, and the maids appeared to be organizing an evacuation. Marina almost wanted to tell them to please get on with it. Tarrying any further was borderline suicidal.
She was not going with them. She looked at them with a brief, vacant stare.
Then, she continued her journey, step by step.
“Hey, wait! Where are you going? Who is that–?”
Suddenly, a maid appeared in front of her.
“Oh my god! That’s the Princess! She’s got the Princess!”
That maid who stood barring her path, sounded the alarm for the others.
Several came out from the craft. Most of the girls were too meek, and remained at the door, but two of the bigger girls did run down to meet their friend, blocking Marina’s way. Behind them all, was the path from the evacuation chute into one of the Maintenance tunnels. That was the way to Marina’s Diver, the SEAL model she had snuck into Vogelheim with.
She had to get past them.
“What are you doing with her? Where’s Lady Skoll?”
None of the maids knew her. Marina had been sneaking around everywhere. Her face was void of emotion. Her eyes, distant, inexpressive.
“I have to take her. We’re evacuating.” Marina said, weakly.
It was barely audible.
“What did you do to Lady Skoll? Why do you have the princess?”
The maid approached. Marina was starting to panic.
“I– I– really I– I have to–”
“I’m not letting you pass! The Princess is going with us! You can’t take her!”
This was torture.
This was the judgment of the hell she had made for herself.
Voices reverberating in her head, demanding to know why she killed Bethany. Not just because the maids may have suspected such a thing. But because in Marina’s mind her actions were starting to morph into that.
She had killed Bethany and stolen the Princess. That these maids believed some version of that story too — it was pure agony think about.
“I– I’m so sorry I–”
“What the hell? Lady Skoll should’ve been back– Give her back right now–”
That one brave maid, who had jumped in first, stepped too close, too fast.
Marina focused too much, too anxiously, on the sight of her hand closing in.
She had wanted to touch the Princess, perhaps, or maybe shove Marina gently. For Marina, that was a killing blow and invitation to receive one.
In a snap response, the G.I.A agent slapped the maid’s arm away.
Off-balance, the young girl could do nothing to avoid the kick that struck her. Marina connected right between her belly and breasts like a club.
Screaming, brought down to her knees, the Maid slobbered on the floor, gasping for air.
That moment sent all manner of emotions to Marina’s brain. She was reeling from it.
A strange feeling of catharsis accompanied the attack. That kept her in the rush of events.
At the door of the craft, the bystander maids covered their mouths in horror. Doubtless, Bethany shielded them from any sort of this violence before. Seeing their comrade go down, the other two bigger girls rushed without thinking.
With her free arm, Marina drew a combat knife from her hip, flashing it at the girls.
Both of the maids stopped dead in their tracks, instantly powerless at the sight. Teeth grit, eyes tearing up, the most they could do was stand in defense of their friend. They were maybe half Marina’s age. None of them had probably ever even thrown a punch.
“Take your friend and go. Now.” Marina said. She could still barely speak above a whisper.
She turned the knife over in her fingers, to hold it in a reverse grip, and raised it.
Her lightless eyes, behind the glint of the blade, glared out at the two terrified girls.
For a moment, Marina felt powerful. With that knife, she felt she could cut fate itself.
Shaking with fear and frustration, they helped the other maid off the floor and back to the craft, comforting her the whole way about how brave she was, and swearing that they would find a way to do something to get the Princess back. Marina could hardly hear them after they left her orbit. All she could see, and acknowledge, was that the way forward had opened for her.
She stepped out of the light coming from the craft, moving again into the shadows.
Down another long, empty stairwell, alone with her thoughts.
“God damn it. God damn it.”
Marina grit her teeth. Weeping profusely, sobbing, enraged at herself.
No one could be proud of beating down a helpless girl. But Marina told herself it was necessary. Everything she was doing was necessary.
That was who Marina McKennedy was. A figure of scorn who lurked in shadows, sacrificing to do what needed to be done.
That was who she told herself, over and over, that she was. As the accusatory voices pummeled her in her mind in the absence of other sounds.
“I needed to do it. I needed to do it. There was no other way. I couldn’t have changed it.”
Marina paused for a moment. She raised her sleeve to her face and wept into it.
“Bethany needed to stay also. She needed to do it. There was no other way.”
Her legs trembled. It was not a quake. It was just the weight of her burden.
“Bethany was just like me. She did what needed to be done. Yeah; that’s it, huh?”
She didn’t want to think that it was all pointless and out of their control.
So, step by step Marina went into the dark, smiling through her broken heart.
Behind the Villa, the flower field had split in half.
A lift had brought up a gantry holding a bulky Diver, its shoulders burdened with two powerful 88 mm cannons and their internal magazine. Its legs had been thickened, and a pair of balancing anchors added to the back. There were a pair of missiles attached to the backpack for additional firepower. In all other respects, it was an old Volker model, awaiting a pilot.
A newer Volker with cannons was called a Volkannon, and so was this one.
Bethany Skoll climbed onto the legs of the machine and into the cockpit.
She closed the cockpit hatch, sealing herself in the machine.
There were no fancy computers on this model. But she had one amenity installed for the possibility of terrestrial warfare at the Villa.
Plugging in a minicomputer into the side of the cockpit, she connected the Volker to the Villa’s security system. From the flower field, a quadrotor drone lifted off and climbed high in the sky, pointing a camera down at the world below it. Between the Villa’s security system and the drone camera, Bethany could triangulate on the main screen the positions of the enemies.
From the northern road to the coastal town, there were four units moving in fast. From the fields further south, there were three units. All of them were Volkers. And in the forest, three enemies were reduced to a smoking heap. She could see smoke and fires and explosions rising around them.
That must have been Marina’s “asset.”
She had not been lying about having something up her sleeve.
Some part of Bethany was shaken then. She had thought Marina had been lying in order to get her to leave with her. Out of pure sentimentalism, so she would not have to sacrifice anyone to escape. And yet, while Marina’s friend was not a fiction, she had not been an effective deterrent.
Most of the enemy force was clear past her, and closing in.
Bethany took a deep breath.
There was no turning back anymore, no running.
She told herself, she had stopped being Bethany Skoll at that point. For Elena, for Marina, for Leda, she had become a weapon. Interred in a tomb of steel, the rangefinders and cameras became her eyes. And the guns were the only hands she had, and shooting was the only touch she had left.
That was how soldiers lived their lives, right?
That was how Knights lived their lives.
Bethany released the Volkannon from the gantry. She took a few heavy steps away from the flower field, aiming downhill. In the distance, her computers made out the silhouettes of the southern group of Volkers.
Gripping the control sticks, she allowed the computer to adjust her cannon’s direction.
Once she had a target lock, Bethany pressed her triggers.
The Volkannon shook as two 88 mm shells soared toward her targets.
In an instant, a cloud of smoke billowed up in front of one of the Volkers.
One of her monitors showed a diagram with shell impacts on the shoulder and chest. Her shells were was powerful as light torpedoes, quite able to tear into a Volker. That enemy unit was entirely disabled by the blasts.
This was war; a desensitizing display of violence, viewed through cameras.
From beside the downed unit, the other two Volkers pushed themselves forward in a sprint. They had noticed what had befallen their ally.
After shooting, the Volkannon loaded the second pair of rounds into the cannon. It took four or five seconds to load both cannons, an eternity for Bethany. Sweat broke out on her brow as she waited for the computers.
She tracked the Volkers rushing down the fields, coming closer and closer.
Assault rifle fire flew toward her, shells crashing all around her.
Flowers blew up into the sky and into the wind, a rain of red petals.
Even if she had wanted to run, Bethany did not have the speed to avoid the gunfire. Resilient under fire, by Leda’s grace not a shell grazed her then.
Bethany finally opened fire anew.
This time she saw the cannon shells touch her target, briefly. Before the explosions consumed the unit in fire and smoke, and made it vanish.
Another long reloading period followed.
Bethany grit her teeth, watching her cameras.
Sprinting toward her, the last Volker had made it to the Villa grounds. Growing larger and larger in her vision, reaching 200 meters, 150 meters, 100 meters. At that distance, the Volker suddenly stopped to aim at her.
The Volkannon reloaded just as the Volker fired its first aimed burst.
88 mm cannons flashed; two shells went flying over the assault rifle rounds.
Bethany shook violently in her cockpit as shells crashed into the Volkannon.
Around 50 to 80 meters away the enemy Volker was reduced to slag.
Groaning, shaken up, Bethany brought up a screen with the damage. She saw a diagram of the Volkannon, two massive craters punched into the forward armor. Not breached. Yet. And that was what mattered in the end.
Four enemies to go.
With heavy footfalls, she turned the Volkannon away from the field, northward. The enemy hurried out of the forests and hills from the direction of the coast. All four Volkers charged toward her at a full sprint.
Assault rifles in one hand, vibro-machetes in the other.
Wild bursts of gunfire hurtled across the fields from the Volkers.
Turf kicked up around Bethany, flowers burned, holes punched into the hedges. A shell hit a wall of the villa and completely collapsed the side storage room. Another shell struck the fountain and sent water spraying.
“Record to the chronicle box, please.”
One of Bethany’s screens turned into a microphone symbol, to signal recording.
It had dawned on her that she never got to say goodbye to Elena.
There was no way to guarantee she would get the message.
But she wanted to leave it. Even if a Volkisch ruffian got it. Everything she had was on the verge of disappearing. She needed to leave a legacy.
“My name is Bethany Skoll. I don’t know who will see this, or in what context. I am the head maid of Elena von Fueller’s household. I always loved her like my own daughter. And that was because, thirty years ago, when I was just coming into adulthood, I fell madly in love with her mother Leda Lettiere. I loved her like no other. I loved her like it was an obsession.”
She pressed her triggers, launching a pair of shells at one of the Volkers.
One shell flew past the target and sent streams of soil flying toward the sky.
The second crashed into the mecha’s leg and sent it tumbling into the dirt.
All three remaining Volkers started to swerve wildly to avoid her shooting.
Their own bullets hit everything but the Volkannon as they charged.
Bethany’s own computer-assisted aim was troubled by the movements.
She switched off the computer assist.
“Leda– I can’t begin to describe her. She was a student, but she mastered anything she wanted. Poetry, mathematics, singing, dancing, politics. I wanted nothing more than to marry her and make love to her every night for the rest of my life. But Leda’s beauty and magnificence brought the eye of Emperor Konstantin von Fueller. He took her for himself.”
Bethany felt an ancient anger come bubbling back up to the surface.
She took aim, fired.
Her shells sent turf flying but did not slow down her opponents.
“I– I could not suffer my fantasies to be ruined. Not even by the Emperor himself. Leda and I continued our affair in secret. I was an esteemed guest of her household. I had many opportunities to love her, to drink of her nectar. It was stressful, but I did everything in my power to be with her. I used every trick and cheat. I manipulated people, I lied to people– I even killed people. For Leda, for our love to survive. The Emperor only cared about Leda when he was– when he was using her. Elena von Fueller, the last thing I want is for her to feel ashamed of this. Her mother loved her dearly, despite everything. I loved her too. In my mind– Elena was my child with Leda. The Emperor was a cloud that sometimes darkened our sky, but we lived for each other, with each other, when we could get away with it.”
Tears welled up in Bethany’s eyes. She found it hard to aim, amid the storm of bullets, and the storm of emotions that was rising in intensity within her mind. She felt a strange sense of clarity and freedom. In that moment she felt like a fool for never telling her story to anyone. It felt like such a relief, to cast out into the air those emotions that she had buried so deeply within.
Her fingers absentmindedly pressed her triggers.
Again the Volkannon rattled, launching two more shells.
These were manually aimed.
She remembered briefly when she went “hunting” with Leda one time.
Leda had taught her to shoot through the air. To lead her shots correctly.
She put both rounds on a target.
One of the Volkers disappeared into a cloud of fire.
Her computer put up a warning. Internal magazine critical.
“Leda could no longer stand it. I fooled myself into thinking she wasn’t suffering, but who wouldn’t be in her situation? She was a plaything for the Emperor. Then a G.I.A. agent got close to her. The Republic wanted to assassinate Konstantin von Fueller. Leda wanted to usurp him. Not to work with the Republic, but to take over the Empire herself. We– all of us banded together for this. We used each other. Leda, Marina and I, we felt so powerful. In our love and our dalliances, our secrets, the nights I spent with Marina– the nights Marina spent with Leda, with so many others. We traded in lies, sex, torture, death– and still. We failed. We were never so powerful as we thought ourselves to be. We felt invincible and we failed.”
Bethany sat back in the Volkannon’s chair, letting go of the triggers.
She raised her hands to her face, covering up profuse weeping.
“Elena was scarcely five years old. I was the only one who was uncompromised. Marina and Leda both fell in our battle against the Empire. I promised to take care of Elena. All of us had, but I was the only one who really survived what happened. I had to watch it all come down, holding my breath, unable to say I took part. I spent twenty years trying to hide this shame. Erich von Fueller, Elena’s teenaged brother, took me in as part of his household. As part of Elena’s new household. To protect her.”
There was no reason to look at the monitors.
Bethany was fully consumed by the past.
She pounded her fist against the side of the cockpit, over and over.
“I was the only survivor.” She mumbled. “I was the only one. Only me.”
It was so unjust. Why did Leda have to continue to suffer until her death?
How was Bethany so stupid? How could she fool herself so much?
All of those years, none of them were so blissful as she liked to imagine.
Those were years that Leda cultivated a deep suffering.
A suffering so great she sank all of it into Bethany’s bosom, between Bethany’s legs. Such suffering that it made that woman want to kill.
“I was the only one. I survived. Leda was being punished the whole time.”
There was another loud rumbling of her machine.
Bethany peered up at her monitors.
The Volkers made it up to the Villa and began to aim their shots. Several shells struck around her feet, across the shoulders and head of the mecha.
One shell struck the side of the Volkannon’s cockpit.
There was a red hole circle, the size of a fist, that formed inside the cockpit.
From this circle, splashed a jet of hot metal the width of a finger.
An enemy round had penetrated the armor.
Bethany screamed. Her flank was slashed open. Her stomach was stabbed.
Hot, searing, agonizing pain slashed across her body. Blood flowed copiously from her. She grew numb. She was in such a shock from the initial pain. It was as if her body could not possibly feel all of the pain.
She clutched her wound but could not feel it anymore.
Laughter escaped from her lips like the involuntary action of a cough.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Leda.”
She had never had enough rounds prepared for the cannons to deal with so many enemies. Not without being able to reload from the gantry.
Bethany felt she had done an impressive job getting as far as she had.
“Imagine. Continuing to live. After everything that has happened.”
Marina would tell her all about those times. Elena had Marina. Marina had survived too. Somehow, despite everything. Marina was still alive.
“I’m sorry. I could never be your hero Leda. I could never save you.”
With the last burst of adrenaline in her stricken body, she engaged the backpack missiles. Bethany aimed straight up at the sky.
Outside, the Volkers were moving cautiously toward her.
Since the Volkannon had ceased firing, or moving, perhaps they thought she was dead. It was a good assumption. But she was not dead enough.
Some part of her, somehow, survived so much worse than this pain.
“I hope whoever is listening to this takes pity. Please treat this as you would the chronicle of a ship. Tell the world about the brave maid who took an Emperor’s wife and schemed against his Empire for her love. Farewell.”
Bethany pressed the triggers.
From the back of the Volkannon, the two missiles soared toward the sky.
Enemy mecha, startled by the launch, resumed firing on the Volkannon.
Bethany saw spectacular flashes. All kinds of colors, beautiful colors.
Everything was flashing in all the of the colors of the rainbow.
And yet it was gentle, and soft.
An aura, a pale curtain. A purple glow on the other side.
A silken dress, indigo hair–
“Leda. You look so beautiful. It’s just like when we met.”
Overhead, the missiles perforated the sky.
There was a final, glitchy burst of video static.
Two holes in the firmament slowly started to form massive voids.
More and more of the sky would fall, and a deluge would fall with it.
Vogelheim was dead.
Between the 150 mm blast outside and various cascading damages to the interior of the structure, there was no way to save the station anymore. Water began to pour in unchecked. Pressure was being lost. Every hole that opened to the Imbrium expanded exponentially as more and more water forced its way into the structure. With its central structure compromised, the “ceiling” or “cap” of the Vogelheim pillar would soon collapse upon the biome it contained and raze everything beneath its rubble.
A sudden deluge swept away mechas and any stragglers that had remained on the surface. The Imbrium laid its claim on the storybook landscape with terrifying speed. Everything was cast in the dismal blue of the ocean.
Amid this calamity, Victoria van Veka soared through the flooded forest.
At her heels, a roaring, rampaging Heidelinde Sawyer gave chase.
Already submerged before the disastrous floods, they survived everything.
Victoria knew they had to get away before the central pylons shattered. They would be crushed under the collapsing weight of the upper station otherwise. She did not know what was going through Sawyer’s head — other than violence. So she accelerated and began to flee from her enemy.
Rising up the water, which had now flooded almost all of the biome.
Bursts of 37 mm gunfire flashed incessantly from behind her.
Vapor bubbles nipped at her heels and flanks.
Victoria swerved, ducked and spun away.
All around her the landscape was eerie. Visibility had diminished entirely. Remnants of the land, like the forest, the hills, the orchard trees, they were flooded so quickly and terribly, much of it was ripped up or crushed down into the dirt, and yet much of it still remained, tinged blue but standing, rendered alien by sudden transposition. Those beautiful landscapes were cast in the dark, murky water of the Imbrium as if put inside of a toy globe.
Since she did not know how compromised the lower structures were, her best chance to escape was through whatever hole had opened to the ocean in the central structure. Elena’s artificial horizon had shattered. If Victoria could find the source of the flood within this terrifying landscape, then she could escape through there without being blocked by debris.
“GET BACK HERE!”
There was an eerie flash that was picked up by Victoria’s cameras.
Suddenly the Panzer started to accelerate.
Heat readings off its surface tripled in intensity.
Was it a hidden booster? An energy recovery system perhaps?
“I’d know if it was that.” Victoria told herself.
Regardless of what it was, Sawyer’s acceleration began to exceed her own.
She was cutting the distance between her and Victoria’s Jagd unit.
“No more running then.”
Victoria turned the Jagd around in a shallow arc to meet Sawyer.
Sawyer in turn lifted her vibroblade, engaging the booster on it.
“You’re fucking dead!”
They were only transmitting audio at that point. Water and their violent movements made the laser video connection difficult to maintain.
So Sawyer did not see Victoria’s eyes go red at that point.
She focused on the Jagd’s arm and pushed on it.
A sharp pain ran through her head. But she maintained her concentration.
Her blade swung to meet’s Sawyer’s attack.
And with a brutal parry, she smashed Sawyer’s arm aside.
“What the fuck?”
Training her guns on the Panzer’s center mass, Victoria unleashed a relentless fusillade. Dozens of vapor bubbles blossomed across the Panzer as exploding bullets crashed into it, peeling away parts of that tough armor.
Without hesitation, the Panzer charged through the bubbles.
“Why are you here?” Sawyer shouted. “Why did you come back now?”
“To save Elena!” Victoria shouted. “From you!”
The Panzer swung its vibro-sword and the Jagd’s vibro-blade met it. Both blades were designed to help overcome the resistance of water to breach armor. And the boosters helped deliver that final bit of punch.
The two pilots clashed blades, sizing each other up, waiting for an opportunity. The Panzer was built much more solidly. Even applying an equal amount of force, in a protracted fight, the Panzer would survive.
The Jagd’s arm would just fall off if it kept being slammed so brutally.
Nevertheless, Victoria met Sawyer’s blade, and she met her with words too.
She put on a grin, a battered, weary little grin. Her head was burning.
Maybe the drugs were fading. If she could just hold on a little longer!
“I saw it in a dream! I saw you killing her! I won’t let it happen!”
This wasn’t a lie and yet it was the exact kind of thing Sawyer hated to hear.
“In a dream? Are you fucking crazy? You came here to say that to me?”
“I came to save Elena, because despite everything, out of all of us, she’s the one who has only ever been a victim, Sawyer. All of us can fight and kill each other, but Elena shouldn’t! Elena has suffered enough in her life.”
“Shut up! Stop holding her up on a pedestal! I fucking hate that!”
I know, Sawyer. That’s why I’m saying it.
Victoria felt like weeping over the whole situation, just a bit. It was surreal, to be encased in this metal machine, in her cute little dress. Fighting her old friend who was marching down a horrible path. Atop the ruins of another friend’s devastated home. As rubble began to come down all around them. As Elena’s beautiful little forest was submerged in the blue below them.
“I already saved her, Sawyer. You’ll never have her now.”
“I DON’T CARE! I DIDN’T COME HERE FOR HER!”
Her swings started to grow sluggish. Her burst of power must have been an energy reserve system, and it was running out after her berserk rage.
“We were all destined to come here Sawyer. To sever the red string.”
She had started just saying things to rile her up.
But with tears in her eyes, Victoria had made herself believe them too.
All of those memories they had. That strange childhood that was neither idyllic, nor agonizing, because they shared it. It was so distant. No matter what happened, no matter who won out, they could never recover that.
Sawyer would always be her enemy.
Gertrude would always be an obstacle.
Elena would always be the unattainable prize.
She was the Empire they were all fighting for.
The Empire they would all destroy.
“Shut up. Shut up! I’m sick of it. You’ve no right to judge me. No right!”
Sawyer’s aura was palpable through the water.
Furious, wracked with agony, tinged with sorrow. Victoria saw it.
She responded to it.
“I’ve every right to judge you! You and your Volkisch want to expel me from my home!”
“What was I supposed to do, Victoria?” Sawyer shouted. “To be a fucking saint like you?”
She began interjecting words between ever more wild and furious swings of her blade.
“Was I supposed to follow Elena’s tail all my life?” Swing. “Submit myself to be ruled by the nobles that gave as little a shit about me as you three did? Run off to sell my pretty little ass to the Duchess like you did?” Thrust. “I was never special like all of you! All of you got the power and skills! I was always beat down and all I could do was fight!” Her blade smashed over and over. “I seized an opportunity! You can’t judge me for that, you bitch!”
Victoria endured the onslaught, blocking, dodging with her thrusters, clashing blades. Her Jagd’s arm was starting to overstress.
Alerts appeared on her status monitor.
Chunks of the station ceiling started to come down all around them.
It was nearly over. This was it; she had to make her move now or never.
“You were as powerful as everyone at school! You were standing so high above the world you knew nothing of it, just like us! But you always had power Sawyer! More power than most. You chose the Volkisch!”
“You don’t understand shit! I don’t want to hear your fucking voice again!”
Sawyer threw her wildest, most violent swing yet.
Her hatred, her anger, screamed out into the surrounding water.
Victoria could see all of it.
Red and yellow and black contaminating the water.
Rather than evade, Victoria thrust directly into the water in front of her.
She saw something in that aura. She became lost within its space.
A little girl receiving a beating from her mother and a scolding from her father. A young girl derided by both parents for being unable to speak properly. A bigger girl who could hardly see or understand what was up on the video board at school. A teenager who threw a punch unprompted and liked the sight of a body on the floor. A group of girls, who formed out of necessity, like wilting plants growing in the same patch. A young woman, standing in a line of soldiers, telling herself it was all she could do now.
An adult woman, berated by a uniformed man, and slapped across the face.
Two uniformed women, side by side, carrying sandbags as punishment.
A woman listening to someone tell her that in spite all that, she was strong.
Victoria saw shadows and heard distant voices and felt even when she could not see. Amid the color, amid two machines frozen in their violence, all those thoughts coalesced. Sawyer’s thoughts and Victoria’s thoughts.
At which point was I able to choose anything?
Everything was always set against me.
I wish I could have helped you escape.
I could have saved you.
Victoria reentered the world. Full of emotion but bereft of understanding.
She threw the Jagd’s arm in the way of Sawyer’s attack.
Sawyer’s blade stabbed into the remains of the jet lance coils.
She had swung with such force that she nearly pierced the Jagd’s head.
Her blade stopped just short of Victoria’s cameras, lodged into the arm.
Solid fuel and parts leaked out into the water.
Victoria reacted near instantly.
Pulling back her sticks and ramming her pedals. Thrusting up and back, the Jagd extended the Panzer’s arm and threw the mech off-balance.
As she did so, Victoria swung her remaining blade at the Panzer’s arm joint.
Her blade chipped, but it bit right through the metal.
Sawyer’s arm split at the elbow with a crunch, hanging off the Jagd’s.
Victoria then ejected the Jagd’s jet lance, losing an arm herself. Both Victoria’s lance and Sawyer’s sword drifted, joining the rest of the debris.
The Jagd turned its torso machine guns on the Panzer and opened fire.
One tiny burst crashed into the Panzer’s heavily-armored chest.
Gashes and pits formed on the armor. The machine rose out of the vapor.
Then the guns clicked completely empty.
There was no barb from the Panzer’s pilot. The machine advanced silently, solemnly. Sawyer lifted her sturmgewehr rifle with her remaining arm.
When she tried to fire her magazine was ejected by the feed system.
It was empty.
The Panzer stood, unmoving, threatening with its empty rifle.
Sawyer must have been out of ordnance.
Victoria lifted her sword arm and pointed it at the unarmed Sawyer.
She looked at the screen. Since they were unmoving for long enough, their laser connection stabilized. Victoria could see Sawyer’s haunted face on the video, wide-eyed, shaking and weeping with fury, frustration, confusion. Victoria felt those feelings spreading into the ocean around Sawyer’s mech also. Her auras were never more visible nor easier to read than right there.
“I– I– I’m– I can– still–”
Sawyer was reduced to a furious stammer as she searched for any remaining weapons. That was a sight she had not seen in close to ten years.
A flustered, helpless Sawyer, out of steam once her rage reached its peak.
Victoria smiled. A bitter, pained smile that punctuated their shared agony.
“Goodbye, Sawyer. I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you — I didn’t even try.”
She turned the Jagd around and immediately fled.
Her objective was complete.
She distracted Sawyer. Elena got away (she hoped).
And now she had to flee herself.
“No more tears.”
Victoria grit her teeth. As the Jagd emerged from the teetering rubble of Vogelheim, her heart wrenched. She had decided what she would do a long time ago. Victoria had chosen her banner. And she had found someone dearly special to her. Someone she wanted to fight for, to elevate, to love.
Someone who represented the future she realistically hopes to bring about.
In that sense–
Sawyer was just an enemy.
Gertrude was just an obstacle.
And Elena remained an orbiter, a helpless ephemera caught in the midst.
She had made her decisions and held herself responsible for them.
So why did it hurt so much?
Why, as she escaped, did the young empath weep for Sawyer?
Marina’s screens came to life and began to run diagnostics.
Soldier of Enterprise And Liberty S.E.A.L [SpecOps]
Below the S.E.A.L’s full model name, Marina had edited the boot menu to scrub out the Republic motto. She couldn’t bear to even think to uphold those ideals anymore. Dimly, she even wondered where the Republic ever stood for them in the first place. What even was all this liberty bullshit?
Marina’s S.E.A.L. was a special model, but it fit the Republic’s ethos of highly efficient, cost-conscious, utilitarian design. An oblong cockpit surrounded by thick, shaped plates of sloped chest armor, to which two tapered off, square shoulders attached a pair of sturdy arms. A round, helmet-like head with a visor served as the primary sensor array. The waist was slightly thicker than that of a Volker or Strelok, because the S.E.A.L.’s backpack was attached lower, closer to the legs. This allowed for more direct intake of water straight through the center of mass to the jets in the lower back.
She had an M480 37 mm assault rifle attached by magnet to the backpack, some grenades, and a boosted vibro-handaxe that was a result of Republic efforts to steal Imperial vibro-weapon technology, coupled with an inability of Republic industry to properly replicate the miniature form factor of Imperial blades. All of these weapons were capable but cheaper alternatives to Imperial designs, the pride of the Republic. Interesting as they all were, Marina had no intention to use any of them at that moment.
Instead, she was more interested in the long-range travel unit on the back.
Two hydro-jets with their own energy, designed to produce less sound. They had taken her from Pluto station to here and had enough energy to take her back. When she returned, the Pluto cell of the G.I.A. would disband, its resources spent. Then she would escape to Serrano, Sverland.
A mere skip and a jump to the Union.
That was the plan. She had to keep the plan in mind.
Everything was shaking.
Sometimes subtly, but increasingly, with great violence.
She had laid Elena atop the storage space behind her chair.
Once the SEAL was ready to go, Marina dove into the water.
Vogelheim was an old station, with a major weakness in the size of its desalination and water treatment ducts and systems. Modern, efficient designs needed less water volume and thus did not have giant openings for Marina to go swimming in. Dipping down into this system, Marina guided her SEAL out of Vogelheim through chaotic, rushing water in the underground. She moved fast enough to avoid the collapse.
Outside the station, with the structure between herself and her enemies, Marina had a moment of peace. The SEAL could simply hover in the water for a time, watching the place where she rekindled her love and rediscovered her sorrows crumbling before her, slowly, inevitably.
Vogelheim’s biome was collapsing under the force of the invading ocean along with the weight of the station’s crown, housing all the mechanisms for the light and weather and sky that had so enchanted Elena. That sky under which Leda had given birth and tried to raise her. That sky that her brother Erich turned into a prison for her. It was shattered, coming down.
From outside the station, in the blue vastness of the Imbrium, attached to the rocky seafloor and surrounded by the rising and falling stone of the ocean’s geography, the Vogelheim pillar slowly toppled onto itself. The eastern wall collapsed near totally, so the station’s cap fell lopsided over the biome. Perhaps there was some eerie, flooded place that still survived.
Marina knew then that most of the interior was utterly destroyed.
She prepared to turn and leave the scene when she heard a noise from behind her.
“Where– What is–? Who are you?”
Confused mumbling, the soft and helpless voice of a young girl.
Marina felt her panic grip her heart. This could not be happening.
Not right then.
“Elena please don’t look. Please just go back to sleep.” Her voice was weak, pleading.
Elena paid her no heed. She sat herself up, peering around the side of the cockpit chair. She pulled herself forward. Her eyes were fixed upon the exterior camera screens.
Fixed on the image of the ruined, collapsed Vogelheim that was on every video feed.
“That can’t be it.”Elena’s voice started to crack. “Is that Vogelheim? That can’t be.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Her lips quivered; her hands shook.
“Vogelheim can’t be like that. It just can’t be. How will we go back inside?”
Elena covered her own mouth. “Bethany? Where is Bethany?”
She had not blinked or drawn away from the light in so long.
Her eyes wept and reddened.
Marina felt so powerless, so helpless.
Helpless as she had never felt before in her life.
Staring at Elena’s face, the blood fading from her cheeks.
At her drawn, horrified eyes.
“I’m so sorry.” Marina said. There was nothing she could say or could do.
It dawned upon the Princess then, what had happened.
Her whole body shook.
Elena screamed until her throat was raw, until her lungs were empty.
Until her voice gave out into heaving sobs.
Elena screamed with an agony unimaginable.