Waterstrider

8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS

Kalthen blearily returned to consciousness with throbbing pain emerging from all across his body. He groaned, blinking black spots out of his eyes.

“What…” he said, trying to regain his thoughts.

It felt like it took hours to sort his memories, hampered by the pounding beats of a strong headache. He worked to unbuckle the straps restraining him as he awkwardly climbed to his feet.

The aero’s interior was largely intact, a seemingly miraculous occurrence given how they had crashed through an entire floor. That was unusual, and the structure must have already been damaged in some way from the fighting.

His worries of seeing the bodies of his subordinates littering the wreckage were thankfully unfounded. He clambered his way out of the vehicle, finding himself inside of a thoroughly trashed Staiven bathing chamber.

The nutrient pools were the color and consistency of bile, although they smelled more like burned plastic. The room was littered with discarded bathing towels and eyeball descalers that had presumably been left when the inhabitants had fled. One unlucky Staiven had been caught directly underneath the wreckage, her body crushed and mutilated. Kalthen had to hold in a retch.

He found Kande’s squad holding a defensive perimeter near the exits of the room. She saw him approach, skittering over and bowing slightly before him.

“We’ve secured the area, sir. We were about to wake you.”

Kalthen nodded, trying to replicate how his uncle acted in front of subordinates.

“Understood. What’s our situation?”

“The surrounding area appears to be clear of any Hadal members, but there are still some fleeing locals. As the barrier doesn’t extend below the surface, we are free to move further in if needed, though the secondary one should be further down.” Kalthen nodded.

“And Triezal?” he asked.

“He has not responded to any pings, nor have we seen him. I believe he might be occupied with something on the upper level.”

“I see. In that case, let’s start searching for the thief, he might try to escape among the locals. Tell your squad members to keep an eye out for sign of him.”

Kande bobbed her head in acknowledgement, turning to bark the orders to the squad members. Kalthen considered for a moment the figure of the thief he had fought just one week before. He had been squirrely, difficult to pin down and quick to flee once the opportunity arose. Was that his personality, or merely a reaction to the circumstance? This time around, Kalthen was not piloting an enforcer,and so things might be different.

He and Triezal had intended to meet up with one of the units stationed her and act as command and backup for them, but it seemed that plan was shot. Now that he was on the lower level, he was presented with both risk and opportunity. Given what was at stake for him personally, all he could do was take the chance. Perhaps the man had been injured in the intense battle going on overhead.

With a hand motion, Kalthen directed the squad forward.

The street was in slightly better condition than the restaurant had been, but still bore the tell-tale signs of chaos and abandonment. Various computer terminals and other objects that had been presumably been held in their owner’s hands when they were caught in the fleeing mob.

The area was utterly silent save for the echoing cracks of gunfire from the floor above. It had an eerie quality that was unique to empty urban spaces, and Kalthen almost felt like a monster would pop out of each successive alleyway that they passed.

“There was a passage leading up into the warehouse down here, correct?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. According to the records this was the entrance used by customers. It should be along the next street.” The response came from one of the squad members, a Korlove man named Kaduk.

“I see. Keep an eye out,” said Kalthen.

They carefully turned the corner, only to find themselves face to face with a squad of Seiyal wearing the white robes of the Hadal Clan. The Seiyal were standing beside another orange barrier, appearing to annoyedly be looking for a way to break through. A large maintenance robot of Celan make rested in a heap to the side of the road, its limbs bearing the tell-tale marks of sword slices where the martial artists had presumably attacked it.

After a moment of surprised hesitation, the Korlove fired upon the shocked Seiyal. They did not even wait for Kalthen’s order; instead operating on their training. When it came to fighting martial artists, the only way to bridge the gap in speed and reaction time was to fire as soon as possible.

The bullets tore into them, bringing two of the martial artists down in an instant. Those remaining quickly charged for Kalthen and his subordinates, and he cursed as he continued firing his own weapon.

One of the Seiyal, a short woman with very lengthy hair that was expertly tied up in a complex manner led the charge, her swiftness telling him one very problematic detail; she was either a core formation practitioner or a very swift meridian establishment practitioner. Either way, his gamble had not paid off.

A few bullets impacted the maintenance robot, sending a small cascade of sparks flying as they tore into its internal circuitry. A thin orange smoke emerged from the machine.

Another of the martial artists fell under the gunfire., leaving only three remaining. Meanwhile, the woman had reached their line of fire, a shortsword in each hand that she used to ambidextrously carve into Kaduk and another of the Korlove.

“Shit, shit shit!” chanted Kalthen, scrambling to put another magazine into his rifle.

He considered surrendering, but the woman had a cruel grin on her face as she sliced through his subordinates. She was enjoying the slaughter. His gaze flicked back to the dead bodies before him, and knew that if this continued they would all die. Though she seemed to be merciless, perhaps at least a few of his group could survive if he surrendered. He raised his hands into the air.

“We place ourselves under the mercy of the honorable Hadal Clan,” he said loudly, prompting the rest to follow in his lead.

In their decades of experience dealing with the Hadal Clan, the Heirs of Ottrien had learned certain aspects of Seiyal culture. If one surrendered in the wrong way, the martial artists would feel little need to honor it. However, if one called upon the honor of the clan, then they would feel the need to act to preserve the ‘face’ of the organization. It had always struck Kalthen as pointlessly contradictory and counterintuitive, but he had paid attention to such lessons anyway. He had known it might save his life some day.

One of the woman’s swords paused right before it would have sliced off one of Karie’s legs, and looked over to Kalthen with an expression that almost looked like a pout.

“An honorable combatant would fight until death,” she said.

Kalthen responded with a weak smile.

“In our culture, staying alive is a filial responsibility.”

She sneered at him, tracing the air between them with her sword.

“This is a field of battle, and I cannot spare the men to guard you. What do you expect of us?”

He shrugged.

“All I know is that if we were to continue fighting you, it would be our death.”

“That is the case. You were foolish to wander around without one of your machines.”

She continued tracing patterns in the air with her swords, each one painting a different shape. It was impressive, but made Kalthen question how much attention she was paying to the conversation.

All of a sudden, she ceased her fidgeting and met his gaze directly.

“Where is the Riverfiend?” she asked. He fought the instinctive urge to look away.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But it is likely he is still trapped within one of the barriers.” He nodded in the direction of the glowing wall behind her.

She sighed, muttering something under her breath about how useless Celans were. Kalthen graciously let the dig pass.

“Tell me how to pass through the barriers,” she ordered.

Kalthen laughed.

“You can just walk right through, he said.”

She lifted an eyebrow, and he explained.

“The filament allows slow-moving objects to pass through, though it exposes them to highly dense miasma.”

She frowned, while Kalthen smirked. Even this foolish dog of the Hadal would know that meant that while any Celan could walk through without issue, only martial artists at the level of a spirit refiner or above would be able to pass through without becoming violently ill. It was a simple method of restricting entry, but sometimes the simple ways were the most effective.

She asked a few more questions about the situation, and Kalthen managed to respond with no information he believed she would find useful. So long as he could help it, he would do nothing to help the opposing force. In the end, he got the impression she gave up the interrogation solely because she did not wish to waste time with torture, or some other form of pressuring him.

Disgusted, she smashed all of their weapons beneath her feet before striding off back towards the barrier. She held her hand out to its edge, tentatively drawing closer and closer, before pulling back with an annoyed grunt.

She marched back to Kalthen with a growl, pushing him back into the wall and resting the edge of her sword onto his throat. Her eyes rained malice towards him.

“Tell me again. How do I break it.”

“Unless you have heavy explosives or you can find the power cores, you can’t, not at your level. And no, I don’t know where the power cores are. They’re probably inside of it.”

He peeked again at the damaged robot, unsure whether to hope it was what he thought it might be or not. The situation was bad, but it certainly had the potential to become worse.

The martial artist followed my gaze, looking at the machine that was steadily emitting more and more smoke into the air.

“Eiri, check that out,” she said.

Kalthen winced. This would probably not go well.

The man, ‘Eiri,’ apparently, carefully approached the downed robot, squatting to inspect it. He poked it, as if to see if it would do anything.

The man clearly had no understanding of technology, and internally Kalthen mocked him for his barbarism. Technological illiteracy was a common affliction among the Seiyal, as expected of a race who had barely invented the steam locomotive before making first contact with the Staiven. He turned back to look at the short woman.

“Lady Karie, is there something I am supposed to look for?”

She bit her lip in thought. With a glance down at Kalthen, who delivered a blank expression to her utilizing the full breadth of his facial muscles to hold back a sneer.

“Break it open,” she ordered.

Eiri sliced down with his sword, and as he made contact with the machine’s steel frame, the world erupted in a vast explosion of force.

Tseludian Maintenance Robots: [As Tseludia Station is a space station harboring millions of inhabitants, it finds itself constantly in need of repair and maintenance to keep power running, air and water active and clean, and other amenities functional. Seven years ago, a local manufacturer of Celan heritage called Akher Industrial Solutions won the bid to manufacture a new generation of maintenance robots to replace the decades old units that were outdated and beginning to fail. Akher's owner, Akher himself was rumored to have connections to the criminal organization known as the Heirs of Ottrien, but after successful lobbying with the local government, he was granted the bid anyway. The new machines, while nothing special, get the job done effectively, and can be found throughout the station. However, it is rumored that using these connections, the Heirs were able to have a say in their design.]