The ground trembles.
"What in the name of Christ is that?" Knuckles cranes his neck to get a better view over the crowd.
More aliens. Enemies. They're close enough to squint away as their golden skin reflects the overhead lights of the marketplace. They glimmer as they join the chaotic masses storming the streets.
These creatures look human too. How many times have our forms been replicated?
They're close enough where I can see their hands, their legs, the color of each individuals' skin.
Their skin.
The gold is armor.
But it's not any armor I've seen before. Alloy plates with ornate etchings cross their chests. Gold flaps dangle around their knees like a skirt. Their boots stretch across their shins with golden straps wrapped around their calves.
They stampede toward us with long, gold-tipped spears in one hand and enormous circular shields in the other.
We retreat to the center of the marketplace, bunched together, surrounded on all sides by metal-decked men who gleam like gods and their wet cattle who growl at us like mutant dogs.
What the fuck is happening?
I peer left and right. No way out. They form a wall of weapons around us. We're trapped. Just like on ARC10.
Norbit's observations return to smack me against the head.
We've been trapped before and they never hurt us. Not on purpose.
Please, Lady. Please let this work.
"Scatter! Now!" I scream.
With me and the VIPERS in the lead, the people follow, fleeing in different directions.
I sprint toward two yaks in front and slip through the space between their massive bodies. Around me, people dash through. We shove our way through, bashing against yaks and golden soldiers with the force of our charging bodied.
Not all people are as lucky. They're cut down by an elbow, a knock against the head, a spear across their gut. They double over.
I manage to slip through and escape, Knuckles on my heels. So many still struggle to break the circle.
Two enemies against one. This is not fair. This has never been fair.
Some people remain trapped within the golden soldiers' grasp. Some fall to the ground, reaching out toward me to return for them. All around, my people scream.
Rage fuels me. These things imprisoned us. They stole my child. Now they torture my people. They will all die.
Spears whiz past my head. I bolt in a new direction away from the chaos, splitting up with Knuckles.
Maybe they're aiming to kill after all.
Large stone buildings line the perimeter of the empty roads leading away from the marketplace. They don't have doors or windows, so I easily take cover in one.
Empty. Perfect.
In the corner of the big entrance room, divets are carved out of the stone wall like rungs on a ladder. I climb it and take my chances sliding out the nearest window. The roof is only a few feet above me. I pull myself up and gaze at the horror below.
The white-garbed people of ARC10 are running erratically. One group meets with the gold soldiers. Another group is trapped by a dead end. Some are still fighting off yaks. We're losing.
And ARC10 is nowhere to be seen.
I spot Coodi and Umpire exchanging fire with bulls. They are the only armed ones. The rest use their fists or other debris scattered around the city.
Grant and Love keep Knuckles between them. They wield spears as well and swat at the golden soldiers who have backed them into a dead end street.
One of the gold soldiers swiftly jabs Grant in the belly. He crashes to his knees while Love grabs Knuckles and escapes.
"Grant!" I leap off the roof of the small building and land on my feet, but I fall forward on my hands and knees. I crawl toward him as more yaks charge in another wave. They are so close. Their collective breath is on my neck as I clasp PAHLM-less hands with Grant, wishing his data would transfer to me. I hold him in my lap, his enormous head without his youthful grin. Blood trickles over his dark cheeks and sinks into the black sand.
The ground under my knees shifts.
I spring up, terrified. Tendrils of sand crawl up Grant's heaving chest like vines, fattening as they slurp down his blood.
The planet drinks.
New terror rises. What if the land is against us too, waiting for our bodies to fall so it can eat us whole.
"Get us the fuck out of here now," I scream into the air. I don't know if it's a desperate call out to ARC10 or a last-ditch effort for prayer, but I hope someone is listening. Anyone.
The bulls approach.
Moyra stoops to grab my elbow. "We have to go."
I stumble forward, the yaks merely inches behind us.
As we spin around to reunite with the civs, we skid to a stop. The night is gone. Replacing the star-speckled abyss is the underbelly of an enormous vessel. The silver and blue glints like light reflecting off crystal-clear water. It mesmerizes me.
Moyra and I stare up at it, agape. We're stupified in our awe until we're struck backward by a sudden flash of blinding white light. I shield my eyes against the flash. This memory of the destructive power of white light is too recent – too strong. I fear we're already dead. How did the Invaders find us here?
When the world dims, and I realize I haven't died, I check over my shoulder. The bulls have become disoriented. They teeter on unsteady legs. Some fall over, some stumble around, shaking their enormous heads.
There was no effect on the golden soldiers. They blink away the glare and resume their pursuit.
One enemy down.
Coodi rushes from behind, her weapon gone, shoving me and Moyra forward. We gather civilians as we run through the city, hoping to find a way out from under the ship that tried to blind us. I wish it was anything but another stranger's alien vessel. I wish it was ARC10. Hell, I'd even wish for Hayomo and ARC9 right about now.
"Who's that?" Umpire asks as the wind picks up.
The ship is landing. "Not any friend of ours. Let's move."
The four of us sprint, hurrying the people along, commanding them to run, to move, to hurry because there are enemies behind and above.
We're directionless. I have no SCOPE TOP to tell me where to duck, when to run, and what turn to take.
I lead us through another street and rejoice when it opens to new terrain. The landscape is still covered in black sand, but it isn't an unfamiliar city anymore. It's a rocky expanse with enormous boulders as large and dark as a forest. We can hide here.
I stop and usher the civilians through. Moyra and Coodi do the same across from me.
"Keep them moving," I scream over the rush of civilians into the forest. "Find ARC10."
"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Moyra shoves through the crowd. "Your people need you."
"My baby's back there. I'm going after him."
"Neeks, we'll find him, I swear. But we have to stay alive."
"He's back there." I spin around to check at the blood bath behind me.
"Janika, no!" Moyra screams. She attempts to grab my wrist, but I've already bolted away. Back into the bulls.
I don't comfort her with words of encouragement over my shoulder. I don't want to. The people of ARC10 have Moyra, Coodi, and the surviving VIPERs. My baby has no one.
Only me.
My bare feet don't feel the shards of black sand digging into my calloused flesh. I don't fully notice the flat blast of light that heats my back as I run away from the civilians. The impact pushes me down. I land on hands and knees, skinning my palms. There's a tickling under my hand as the sand sucks my blood up, gulping at it like it's dying of thirst. I panic and wipe it off on my white smock, smearing blood and sand in streaky patterns.
My gaze returns to the civilians behind me.
The humanoids in golden armor streak through the enormous forest of rocks. From the stone forest, my people scream.
Not the scream of fear, but of pain. It's the kind someone emits before they go quiet forever.
My people are dying.
My heart tears in two.
Go back, save the civilians.
Keep going, find your son.
The war wages in my head with volleying words like 'son', 'two-thousand', 'baby', 'ARC10', 'child', and 'Earth'. I'm frozen in place, my body twisting around to both alternatives.
I made a promise. To Hayomo. To the people.
I made a promise. To him. After I tried to abandon him once before.
Two-thousand lives.
My son.
I am paralyzed, torn apart by my conflicting duties. Clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palms, throwing my head back, I scream. My heart breaks because I know what I have to do.
I stand and return to the civilians who are being slaughtered.
Behind me, the bulls seem to shake their temporary incapacitation. One more time, they spot me. They rise. They kick up black sand and grunt. They lower their horns to line with my body.
Out of the turmoil, I perceive a faint ruckus that rings like music to my ears.
It can't be.
It's the ungodly grind of silver torturing iron. It increases, blasting louder and louder until it drowns out the thud of stampeding bulls.
I have to see this for myself. I scurry to a stone building and climb, just barely avoiding a collision with the nearest creature's head.
In the night sky, ARC10 emerges from between the golden mountain and the strange blue ship with the watery underbelly. It veers from around the corner, its disfigured shape sails overhead. I whoop once and punch the air. ARC10 has come to retrieve us. From where I'm standing, a tiny figure like a spider on a VRAP crawls out from one of the many jagged angles. John traverses the surface of the ship. When ARC10 is close to the ground, he leaps into the rocky forest.
More agonized wails pierce the air. But this time, I'm confident they aren't coming from my own people.
John emerges, his mushy head dangling from his torso. His spindles impale golden armor like he was slicing through meatloaf.
"Yes!" I shout, slapping the walls repeatedly with battered hands. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, thank the Lady! Yes!"
They are in the right hands.
Snorts to my left bring me back to reality. I've been a spectator for far too long.
Back to my own mission.