“Can anyone explain to me why we’ve started working with these aliens? Yeah, you heard that right folks. The Unranked Officers created an alliance without the consent of the Human population. I say it’s time we throw off the mantel of tyranny they cover us with and become our own people again.” – From the Bucker Jarlson Tonight, July 8, 3265.

  The Crawler jumped off Nessa’s armor and landed with a thump. Luckily, neither the landing nor the accompanying skitter of steel on stone were loud enough to be heard over the sounds of battle that filled the passage.

  What made a possessors’ drones so impressive was their adaptability. Sometimes, a drone could be six feet tall with limbs to match. Other times, it could be tiny and capable of infiltrating the smallest of places.

  The best-kept secret about the Possessors was that it was often the same drone.

  Years ago—and with science Jenkins could only dream of understanding—Officer Tobias integrated the drones with alien tech that allowed machines to absorb nearby raw materials quickly and efficiently. While it was a blatant theft of another civilization’s technology, it was also the key factor behind a Possessor’s ability to carry a significantly larger number of drones.

  With his mind cast into the Crawler as completely as he dared while in combat, Jenkins commanded the small machine to sprint across the floor. As it moved, he activated the absorption feature, setting it to draw from the world around it.

  The crawler reached its target and the knife-like legs pierced tough Raak’Shee’s skin, clawing its way up the alien’s neck to begin its gruesome work. Jenkins pulled his mind out of the drone, leaving it with one last command before turning his attention elsewhere.

  He didn’t want to watch what came next.

  ~~**~~

  “I said Punch Blades!” Dave shouted, shield bashing through an opponent’s defense. After the initial shock of his attack, the two remaining enemy soldiers quickly recovered and were trying to defend themselves against the greater numbers. He knew if this wasn’t done and over with soon, the fight would become more and more costly for the humans.

  Sadly, the alien was ready for the bash and dodged just before it could land. While he could expand the field to hit the Raak anyway, it wasn’t worth the time he would be unprotected while the barrier reformed.

  The Raak’Shee growled and attacked in retaliation, its ax carving a wicked line of heat through the air as it hurtled toward Dave’s chest. Seeing this, Jack swung his barrel and fired three rounds into its gut before returning to his previous target.

  Dave pulled the blanket of Light across his chest, thickening it with hardly a moment to spare.

  The ax drove into his shield, forcing the Aegis to take a step back from the sheer weight of the attack. Unfortunately, Dave’s concentration was so consumed by the blow, he wasn’t paying attention to his allies.

  With Dave distracted, the Raak’Shee grabbed a hand ax from its belt and threw it at Alec with all the power it could bring to bear.

  The bladed weapon tore through the air and buried itself in the Dragoon’s shoulder. As the burning metal tore through armor and flesh, he screamed and staggered back in pain.

  Angry that it hadn’t killed the soldier, the enemy redoubled its efforts and pounded on Dave’s shield repeatedly, not giving the Aegis the heartbeat he needed to recover his wits or his footing.

  “And how the FUCK are punch blades going to drop this thing?” Alec yelled, retracting one cannon and replacing it with the small energy weapon.

  “Do I look like I know? I block, you stab. Just find a way to kill it,” Dave replied, taking a chance and opening a hole in the shield just enough to swing upward and through the beast’s forearm. The problem with bringing a big, metallic sword to a Li-Tech fight was that the weapon’s core could not pass through the barrier unhindered. Light could pass freely, but anything with more mass than his shield could not.

  “Alec, stab where I shoot. I’ll make sure you have an opening,” Jack said, plugging the creature with another round. As much as he wanted to keep helping Jenkins and Thea against the injured enemy, he had to trust in their ability to handle it by themselves.

  Well past the point of rational thought, the Raak’Shee kicked a severed arm at Alec as it continued trying to break through Dave’s defense.

  “Care to speed it up a hair? Every hit drains me just a little more.”

  In response, the Dragoon rushed past the alien’s defense and swung his gauntleted hand up and into its throat. When it connected with the scorch mark left by Jack’s weapon, a blade of orange Light exploded out from his fist.

  The weapon was only there for a second, but the harm was done.

  A burbling waterfall of sickly orange blood poured from the wound as the Raak’Shee’s expression twisted from rage to horror. It dropped its weapon and grasped at its throat, desperately attempting to staunch the bleeding.

  “Move!” Thea shouted, hands glowing as she grabbed Alec by the shoulders and moved him out of the way. Finally reaching the dying creature, she slapped her palms against its torso and a torrent of energy passed into its body.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Dave wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, nor did he particularly care. All he knew for a fact was that they’d won all three fights, and the final enemy combatant would be dead in a few short seconds. He stumbled toward the wall and slid down, nearly passing out as the adrenaline left his system.

  “Alfson, care to explain what you’re doing?” Jack asked, the voice a bare echo in Dave’s mind.

  “I’m stabilizing him,”

  Dave perked up. He’d worked so hard to kill the thing and now she was bringing it back?

  Looking at the bodies, he saw one had its head sawed off. Apparently, Jenkins’ drone had done its part and done it well.

  The other was in a similar shape. Instead of the damage coming from a drone, the crimson glow of Nessa’s power slowly faded from what remained of the large body. When he really thought about it, the fact that these abilities let humans go toe to toe with creatures of nightmare was truly amazing.

  And terrifying.

  “If I can bring him back from the edge of death, we might get some information.”

  Why wasn’t she tending to Alec? He’d been wounded, and she was just letting him sit there. Why in the hell would that damned Phantom focus on the enemy instead of healing his friend?

  It was to teach Dave a lesson, wasn’t it? It was to prove he wasn’t good enough to protect anyone, and she was taking it out on the guy that never stopped supporting him.

  He deserved this.

  “And when he tries to rip off our heads the moment he isn’t actively dying?”

  “He won’t… Well, a better way to put it is that he can’t. I’ve already severed all the muscles and tendons in his extremities. The only thing he can do is talk.”

  “Do you have a translator?”

  Dave slowly climbed to his feet and half walked, half fell toward his friend. Alec had fallen after delivering his final blow, but the short distance felt like miles between the two friends.

  But Thea was right there. And instead of healing his friend, she was saving the enemy.

  “I do,” Jenkins said, placing a small flat module on its chest.

  The Aegis didn’t give a shit about healing his enemy. Kneeling down beside Alec, he tried to form a barrier inside the wound to hold in the remaining blood.

  It wasn’t flowing out… was Alec already dead?

  A wave of dizziness washed over him as he fell to the ground with a clang. He’d never felt like this before. Had he overdone it? Every part of him was tired and sore, but he wasn’t done.

  He had to keep fighting; he had to keep…

  ~~**~~

  “What the hell were you doing?” Jack asked Dave when he woke up nearly an hour later.

  He looked refreshed, but his physical appearance had very little to do with how much energy he used in active combat.

  “She left him, so I tried to save him… Please, is Alec still alive?” he said, levering himself into a sitting position.

  “Yeah, I patched him up before getting to the Raak. Did you really think I would let one of our own die?” Thea asked, sitting on a stool a few feet away.

  “Kinda, I’m… I’m not sure what I thought.”

  “You pushed yourself too hard. Are you ok?” Jack asked, quickly casting his vision into the Dave’s and checking his vitals.

  Physically, there were no broken bones or ruptured organs. Hell, Thea had even removed his bruises before he woke up.

  But the toils of battle are often far from physical.

  “I’ll be alright. Alec, you got a beer?” He said, trying to perk up enough to hide his inner turmoil.

  They were resting in yet another empty room along a hallway. The mission was mostly predictable at this point, but the break was needed. For his part, Jack was constantly casting his vision throughout the building, trying to stay out of harm’s way, but that clearly wasn’t always possible.

  The two country boys talked quietly as Jack walked out into the hallway and down another. At the end of the corridor sat a plain steel doorway, perfectly identical to all the others in the complex.

  However, unlike the others, this one felt… wrong.

  He couldn’t tell what unnerved him so much; was there something about the hallway itself, or was it simply his mind playing tricks on him? Everything about the passage seemed to radiate fear and sorrow in waves.

  Jack reached out with his power, searching in vain for anything inside that could take in Light.

  “Is it time to go?” Dave asked, walking over to the Sergeant with his helmet under his arm.

  “Do you feel that?” he replied, raising his faceplate.

  “Feel what?”

  “Anger, fear, betrayal, pain… Hate.”

  “Not towards you, or anyone else on the team,” he said, pointing a thumb toward the room of soldiers behind him. “I might say those things about an ex or two, but this crew is my family.”

  “Right, you’re… right. Go get everyone ready to head out, and put your damned headgear back on,” he instructed, resealing his own and trying to put the uneasy feeling out of his mind.

  As he walked, a faint but putrid odor invaded his air system. It wasn’t strong, but as he got closer to the door at the end of the hall… it grew much more noticeable.

  “Monroe, is everything ok with your squad? You haven’t moved in nearly an hour.” Hawkins said, not so subtly requesting an update.

  “We’re fine, just taking a breather, sir. We were just about to investigate something.”

  “Understood. Check back in thirty.”

  With the squad gathered behind him, Jack pushed the portal open. The stench that was so faint before rolled out in a wave of putrescence that only a freezer full of meat left to rot in the sun for several days could match.

  Inside was utter carnage.

  The room was home to a single, now deceased, occupant. In its center, all that was left of the unrecognizable victim was down held on a star-shaped table. A dry silvery substance, probably the creature's blood, covered the floor, walls, and parts of the ceiling.

  “Oh my god, what the fuck,” Dave gagged, turning away in search of fresh air, retching as the smell worked its way into his ventilation.

  “Looks like a prisoner,” Jack replied, looking around to confirm there were no enemies nearby.

  “Was this us, or them?” Nessa asked, stepping in and activating the lights.

  “No clue,” Jack whispered, following her into the grave of a being he’d never met.

  The skin—what little remained—was the color of tarnished silver. He could see the glint of metallic bones in places where muscles were ripped away from flesh. A cart to the side of the table held various surgical instruments and bowls containing the dry remains of organs.

  There was no convenient recording that might explain what happened here, but it didn’t take a genius to spot a scene of torture.

  “Bob, what species is this?” Jack asked, trying to gather information for command.

  “The lack of a face makes this more difficult, but the physiology points toward the XanRai’d. Although, why there is a prisoner from a race that we are supposedly recent allies with, I haven’t the foggiest clue. Jack, you need to leave. Let the tortured dead lie.”

  If the room hadn’t already been screaming for him to do so, the fact that even the AI was asking made it clear it was time to go. Now, the wrongness made sense. An atrocity did indeed happen here, and it was truly horrifying.

  They weren’t disturbing a prison cell; they were disturbing a grave. This sight—even if it was an enemy—solidified his conviction. If he hadn’t been convinced of the need to destroy this place before, he was now.

  He didn’t care who it was or what race this person belonged to. He didn’t even care if his captain thought he was out of line. This was wrong, plain and simple. That someone had inflicted this level of pain on a sentient being told him everything he needed to about this place.

  If turning this factory into a crater meant the dead could finally rest, so be it.

  I will rise. Above this, I will rise.