The ferocity with which Ren repeatedly punched the mech’s faceplate was unparalleled, but the durability of the machine was like oobleck, resisting every strike with matching energy.  It only finally let her go when Regulus heard the glass-like sound of shattering, and shoved her beneath the water with a barrage of firepower to follow.  It was easy to spot her escape-course by watching the red glow beneath those dark waves, but she was still quick and evasive, and found her way back into the air with her own explosive response.


    Maeve’s tail-lights were still visible even over the distance it had traveled, and Ren could tell that every movement from the Sovereign Shadow was trying to go after it.  The machine’s faceplate had a web of cracks through it though, and she could only hope that meant some of the Magistrate’s vision was impaired.  If it was, it wasn’t easy to notice, and the mech came charging directly at her again.


    The larger upper-arms were as outstretched as the smaller ones protruding from the machine’s chest, and a rapid-fire of small white orbs came pulsing out from them.  Ren braced, wings ahead of her protectively, and when she felt the clasp of those metallic ‘fingers’ around her torso – shoving her back with enough force to knock a normal person unconscious – she knew she had her opportunity.  The hilts of both blades were in her hands, and she pressed the ends to the wrist-joins of those thin arms.  Regulus didn’t have time to see and react before Ren flicked the ‘on’ switch to each of those weapons, and held hard to drive the extending plasma-blades into the joints.


    The metal was hard and tempered, resilient even against those high temperatures, but no known metals could withstand for long.  The persistence of the young Fafnir finally paid off, and with a yell to keep those blades from flying out of her hands, Ren finally made them drive through.  One each shot out past her sides, plasma fusing with the molten liquid and shooting off into the water with a boil and a hiss, and those ‘claws’ went limp.  Ren quickly extricated herself from their grasp, and vaulted up over the broken faceplate to clamber for the back.  As she moved, blades retracted into their hilts again, and the grips whipped to her hips as if drawn by strong magnets.


    Regulus heard the thump of metal boots on the roof overhead, but kept cool as he piloted the mech to try and buck her off.  She refused to budge though; fingers had managed to get a hold on the flat, donut-shaped porthole, and held on tightly.  The big arms thrashed on their pivots, but they simply didn’t have the range of motion to grasp at something clinging so tightly to the Shadow’s back.  Regulus felt his heart in his throat for the first time in decades when he heard the sound of one of those plasma-blades being driven into the port-seam.


    Out over the water, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, either.  Ren clung like a baby monkey, and all the while, forced the knife’s-edge deeper into the groove.  Without any recourse, Regulus turned his shattered sights towards the shoreline, and with a jarring spin, made for the rocks; Ren could choose to let go or she could get crushed.


    Within the rubble of the palace, Jense was able to finally get free, buried under the least amount of debris but also the most risky and unstable.  One wrong move and several tons of broken stone would come down on him, and unlike Ren, he couldn’t just tunnel through solid rock without risk of collapsing the whole thing on top of himself.  When the night sky finally came into his sights though, he burst out of the ground without a glance back, and immediately took to the air to chase after his Eidolon.  Spotting that desperately-ascending owl wasn’t hard – there was only one ‘ally’ target in his field of vision – and his HUD narrowed-in on it.


    There wasn’t enough nanotech to activate stealth-mode again, so he made sure to keep his wing-optics off, and quickly caught-up with the avian mantle, “Need a lift?” Jense asked, dodging a few near-hits as he came up behind the mantle.


    “Get me in front of the bridge, now!”


    “Yessir!” He answered, and the owl carefully latched its talons to one of those wing-arms and a shoulder.  Not wanting to go so fast that the mantle would disintegrate around his armor, Jense ascended vertically at a slower pace to get into the clouds.


    The Tuonela was like a great beast, rising high into the heavens, sending off more of those green meteor-shots every few minutes.  Every single blast was a devastating threat, but sending off five at a time on each pass seemed like overkill.  Being all but a city in itself, getting around it when it was flying forward took a little while, and by the time the duo crested over the widest section, both Ravan and Corbin had finally caught up.


    Flustered, Rylen looked to the pair with that sharp gaze, “Do whatever you have to do; destroy the array!”


    “Shut down your overlays before you go!” Jense harped, “If that E.M.P. thing happens again, we’ll be down that supply of nanotech entirely!  But if you leave it with me, you can come back for it!”


    “Roger that.” The two answered, and immediately did so, then quickly darted off.


    Though still bearing that strigine face, Rylen wondered the obvious, “How high off the ground was the ship when they hit you with it before?”


    “It hadn’t moved yet, sir.” Jense answered, and looked down at the behemoth as it hovered below him, “So…a little further than we’re at right now.”


    The Sixth narrowed his eyes slightly, “Hold here a moment.  Stop completely.”


    “Yessir.”


    Rylen waited a moment in silence as Ravan and Corbin vanished towards the head of the vessel, and – unknown to Jense – finished uploading a simple schematic to that closed system.  When it was done, he gave-up a portion of their limited supply to form a small sphere of light in front of them, “Watch it closely.  Dropping now.”


    The orb plummeted like if it was made of solid iron, but to both their curiosity, it was visible well beyond the expected threshold.  When it did finally explode against the shield, it was maybe only 20ft above the hull, “…That’s way closer.”


    “They’ve been able to access the Warp Core.” The Eidolon surmised, “Those Magi…are either still alive somehow, or Far’nah’s replaced them with new ones.  Either way, I’m not getting aboard like this…”


    “What do you want to do, sir?” Jense glanced back over his shoulder at the white avian mantle.


    Rylen thought for a few seconds, but looked resolute, “…Still to the bridge.  If she woke up some of the crew to fly this thing, then I know who’s under her thumb.  You should have enough nanotech to go stealth now; let me know when you’re in sight of that window.  I need to look something up.”


    “Yessir!” The Fafnir answered, and quickly vanished, along with the Eidolon he once carried like a pet.


    Back on the ground, Regulus had finally been able to shake Ren from his mech’s back, but the damage she’d left was unmistakable.  They seemed to be in a bit of a stalemate, neither able to deal a lethal blow at the other, though Ren could at least take credit for leaving the most visible damage.  The ‘wrists’ of the small arms were fused into position, leaving them as little more than strange-looking clubs.  Two claws from the right large arm had been hacked off.  The porthole door was so badly mangled that the pilot would need to be cut out.


    Regulus was actually puffing for breath by then, and even with the offensive stance he’d taken, actually took a moment to comment at his nemesis, “I can see why they promoted you.  If this is what you were capable of before…I was truly missing out.”


    “Such are the handicaps of protecting more than just one’s self.” Ren answered, one blade pointed forward in her right hand as the other was held in reverse in the left, “You’re not half-bad either.  For an old man with a war-machine that does half the fighting for him.”


    “Where’s yours?” Regulus countered, “Old man, I mean.  I know I saw a Rydell before.  Seems a family tradition to dual-wield two-handed blades.”


    “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She said, feeling her muscles tense as she readied for another vault, “Tell you what…answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”


    “One each sounds fair.”


    “What was the point of all this?” Ren posed, and nudged her head at the smoldering crater where the palace had imploded, “Your country won’t get the recognition it’s asking for if there’s no country left to recognize.  Or people…”


    “Hmph…” Regulus shook his head, “If your liege lord didn’t send you on a fool’s errand to try and kill the Duchess, then he probably sent you here to secure the Prince.  No doubt, he intends to install the boy as Emperor - now that there’s a vacancy – and put him onto the seat of Kitez as well.  A well-groomed puppet, raised in the shadow of the Luminary Council, with a misplaced sense of obligation to it for saving him from his own curse.  …We were simply going to beat the man to it.  Now your turn.”


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Ren’s brow furrowed slightly, “…One is with the southern fleet.  The other is back in Agartha.”


    “That’s a strange way of saying that neither of them are here to help you.”


    She gripped the blade-hilts a bit tighter, “I don’t need either of them to finish this.”


    “What’s your name, Fafnir?  If you’re going to die here, I’ll at least know who you are first.”


    “My name won’t matter to a dead man.” She answered simply, and twisted her back-foot slightly…then launched.


    Metal banged against metal as the two clashed violently.  Small and large arms both came crashing down and swinging from every direction, and Ren dodged and pivoted, moving between the strikes like a choreographed dance.  She stabbed at the ‘neck’ of the Shadow, finding the material there easier to penetrate than the thicker armor protecting the pilot.


    If I can cripple it enough to make it inoperable, I won’t need to kill him to stop the fight…  I’ll pry him out with my own two hands…  I want to see the look in his eyes when he realizes I’ve won!  She thought, repeatedly striking at the same spot under the ‘jaw’ of the machine.  Soon enough, she was able to thrust the entirety of a sword-blade through it, right to the hilt.  The left blade came up quickly to defend against one of the small-arm jabs, but a wide swing from one of the larger arms collided with her, sending her flying off with a clang that reverberated like a stuck bell.


    Even the inertia-modulators couldn’t completely negate the effect of such an abrupt strike, and Ren’s head was still spinning when the rest of her came to a stop.  She was quick enough to get back up again before the full-force collision of the Sovereign Shadow - dropping onto the spot she once lay - missed by only a hair, but both big arms slammed down on her instead.  She hit the hard ground chest-first, feeling both of her own arms pinned right away.  Ren struggled for a moment, but when she saw the unmistakable glow of that green light spreading around her, she felt her heart stop in her chest.  For half an instant, time seemed to stand still, a lifetime flashed in front of her mind’s eye.


    Ren twisted hard, and to her surprise, despite the doubt that she’d be able to wrench free, she found herself on her feet again.  The green blast hit the ground between those smaller blue-metal limbs, but from within the kicked-up dust, Regulus had seen her escape.  Annoyed but impressed, that large, elongated face-plate peered through, and the Sovereign Shadow flung itself forward again, catching the Fafnir a second time.


    Somehow.


    What…just happened? Ren asked herself, and became painfully aware of the fact that the mech had her pinned to a slanted section of solid wall, arms out like she’d held them there on purpose.  She could only look on in horror as the warmachine loomed over her.


    High above, Jense had been waiting on standby a few hundred yards from the bridge-level of the Tuonela.  Ravan and Jense had been peppering the Eye of Kitez with everything they had, but the shields deflected them like water droplets on a mirror.  Jense was starting to get nervous, “Sir, if you can hear me, they can’t get through!  The shields are holding against everything they’ve got!”


    “…I’m ready.” Rylen finally answered, “Get as close as you can…and fly steady.  I’m going to use your nanotech to superimpose my image onto your armor.”


    That sounded weird, but he glided forward as ordered.  With a quick breath, he dropped stealth, and appeared in full sight of the crew…though at a mild distance. The sight of him immediately caught everyone’s attention, and though Jense braced for the potential of being shot at right there, he held firm, and opened-up the full spread of his wings for emphasis.


    He saw the dust-like accumulation manifest over his visor, and the inside of that mantle completely blocked his sight…but he could definitely hear the exceptional boom of the Eidolon’s voice coming from out of his armor.


    “This is Commander Rylen Vor’antiss of the NeoSol Colony-fleet mission to Proxima Centauri Tau, hereby hailing SSCF Tuonela.”


    Four of the dozen bridge-crew were up on their feet in shock, including the original Captain, “C-Commander!?”


    “Why is he floating in the sky like that?”


    “…How did he just appear out of nowhere?”


    The Kitezans and trio of Magistrates looked confused, “…Commander Rylen Vor’antiss?  Not Lord?”


    The Sixth’s mantle was unlike his normal visage; the silver-haired, orange-eyed drow had been replaced by the rather normal appearance of his original, fleshy self…albeit in a less atrophied state.  He bore a slightly-more-regal variant of their same plain white uniforms, with a golden sash from one shoulder to the opposite hip, and an eagle-like pin that denoted his station, “Captain Ronan Dalcassian, and all able-bodied crew…by my authority as mission-leader, I hereby relieve you of duty.  Given the extremely unusual circumstances, I give you my proof of identity; U.S.U.N.88429.  I say again, I hereby relieve you of duty.  Vacate the bridge and await boarding.”


    The Captain was the first to pack it up, and even under threat of being shot by his Kitezan guards, he still fled the command-deck.


    Rylen continued, whether or not the crew had heard or heeded him, “I now formally address Duchess Far’nah of Kitez…if you value your life, you’ll surrender.  Fully, unconditionally, and immediately.  This charade has gone on long enough, and too many lives have been lost.”


    Aboard her observation deck, Far’nah was surprised and amused at the sight, “Well, well…how bold of him to appear as his original self.” She mused quietly, and decided to play along, activating a communication relay to the outside, “I wasn’t expecting you to come all this way until the end, Rylen.  I do believe it ought to be you giving unconditional surrender to me.”


    “You have no path to victory.” He answered, “Land now and release the Prince.  You have crimes to answer for.”


    One of the last crewman to leave the bridge was the communications officer…and she made the very clear decision to activate the ship’s intercom on the way out.  Everyone could hear the exchange now…except for the aforementioned Prince, who still had that unfortunate sound-blocking helmet on.


    “History is written by the victors, and I know for a fact that at least one of my shots made it to Agartha.” Far’nah continued, “Not to mention, I’ve taken down two of your SkyFortresses.  If you consider that an advantage to press, you have a strange way of admitting defeat.”


    “Mine’s the side that hasn’t committed war crimes, to start.” Rylen answered, that mantle being gently pulled backwards by Jense’s steady rearward drift, “You started this war by murdering the Emperor of Sargon, and your own husband.”


    Iresha’s guards were extremely confused, looking around and at each other, “…What’s all this about?  Where’d the intercom coverage come from?”


    “You ignored the normal conventions of appropriate behavior between nations by sneaking a bomb into a peaceful celebration.” The Sixth continued, “You’re holding hostage the sovereign heir to another country’s leadership, and have plunged the entire world into chaos.  All for what?  Your hatred of the Council is unparalleled in its lack of rationality.”


    “It doesn’t matter if you understand our motives, Eidolon.” Far’nah countered, “The fact of the matter is that your fleet is wearing down…your stamina dwindled, and your defenses are being worn to the bone.  Yet here I stand, as strong as ever and making you go to desperate measures to try and ask me nicely to stop.  Well, I refuse…  Fire again!”


    The Eye of Kitez was silent for the lack of operators, and one of the Magistrates went down into the fire control center and examined the command-board.  Such old technology was somewhat lost in translation though, and none of them could figure out that they needed another person to set the target for them at another workstation.


    In the rear halls, the dozen-or-so crew who’d abandoned the bridge were mutinying against their captors.  Captain Dalcassian had taken a shot to the left shoulder before it was done, and they were able to capture one of the soldiers, forcing the man to his knees with his own rifle pointed at his throat, “That boy!  He’s the Prince that Commander Vor’antiss mentioned, right!?  Where is he!?”


    There was resistance, even with a gun-butt to the cheek, and the guard was slain without an admission.


    “Find him!  They can’t have taken him too far!  I’ll take that bitch down myself if I must…” He grunted, and the group fanned out.  He looked the weapon over, holding it up against his one good shoulder, “…It wasn’t enough that she refused to tell us what was going on…but she lied to our faces when she did speak, too…”


    Rylen lifted his head a little bit, as if looking down his nose at the Duchess, wherever she was, “Having a little trouble, Your Grace?”


    Far’nah couldn’t understand, and she paged down to the bridge, “What’s going on?  Why aren’t you firing?”


    A Magistrate answered, “Your Grace, my apologies…the bridge-crew abandoned their stations as soon as Rylen ordered them away.  We’re trying to figure out-”


    Far’nah was incensed, but tried to play it cool, and paged to the outside again, “We’re pressing forward, Lord Rylen.  Any hope to stop my Vindicator will be for nothing.  You can either get out of my way or be forced from it.  I won’t warn you again…”


    “Neither will I.”


    Ren couldn’t understand what was going on.  One moment, she was in fighting form, and the next, she’d felt every bone in both of her arms shatter like dry sticks.  Even then, the massive mecha kept her pinned to that broken wall by the twisted armor that now encased the bloodied limbs, and the smaller arms at the base of it were pounding so hard against her midsection that she could feel blood in her throat.  Her ears were ringing, but she heard her own voice speak then, like someone was playing-back a recording she’d made before the battle.


    “Gabe…can you come back and get me?” She said calmly, like she hadn’t vomited the edge of a hemorrhage into her broken helmet already.  Her face and neck were sticky with blood, yet somehow, her words were as normal as ever, even if a bit monotone, “I’ve won, but I need a lift.”


    Gabriel heard the request, but something sounded wrong about it, and though he pulled back on the control-stick to halt Maeve’s retreat – far enough out to sea that no one was shooting at him anymore – he looked up at the screen, and Ren’s blank video-feed, in confusion, “…What?”


    “My target disabled by wings.  I can’t fly.” That puppeteered voice answered.  The line muted for some reason then – Gabriel could see the icon for it change – and Ren coughed another glut of blood.  Regulus let go of her pulverized arms, and she collapsed to her knees, only to get grabbed by the head instead.  The visor on the front of her helmet cracked on the first smash into the wall, and shattered on the second, but the worst part was looking up through that unfiltered void to where the anti-gravity drive under the Shadow’s chassis had moved into her sights.


    Whoom whoom whoom…


    Ren couldn’t move.  All the energy had drained from her body already, but the pressure from the engine above her now made her unable to breathe, too.  She couldn’t even muster the air in her lungs – as her ribs broke from the pressure – to scream, as she felt both of her eyes rupture and dribble down her temples.


    Everything went black after that, and she didn’t hear the sound of an explosive crash just above her.