Chapter 7

Lexandar Lurranna and Sifa Hamashe were from two powerful lines of nobles with connections to the first engineers who commissioned the convoy that left the ruins of Ancient Earth. Their families commanded vast wealth and influence within the colony, but they both left that all behind them when they agreed to follow Toramir. Though some colonists revered Toramir for his power, others reviled and envied him, especially among the nobility. So when Lexandar and Sifa took his offer, they basically gave up their whole lives and any social status they once commanded, as was the case with many among the Thousand Founders. Out of the Thousand Founders, Maranu picked out twelve of the strongest members to be his commanders and organize his underlings. Of the twelve commanders, none were stronger than Lexandar or Sifa. At first, the two didn’t get along very well since their families were longstanding political rivals. But as time went on, the young former nobles gradually grew closer as they trained and honed their powers together, eventually becoming good friends.

The change was almost instantaneous. One minute they were standing in a bare metal chamber, the next they were in a dense jungle covered in stinky swamps. There was a flash of light as the photons solidified into existence, the advance matrixes bending light from infinite colors and giving those images of light form by combining them with malleable forcefields. Éclair was partially able to make out the images of the matrixes solidifying into solid form within the millisecond that it took to create the environment, but the computer algorithm was so fast that she doubted any normal person would’ve been able to catch it. The simulated environment even came with intense smells that would normally accompany a bog. The only way to tell the difference between a holographic construct and the genuine article was with a high-level scan. Another method involved flaring one’s psions. The conflating energies would resonate as the photons from the construct were absorbed into the Psionic User’s body as psions, but Éclair doubted she’d have the time to experiment as such since it required a great deal of focus.

As the swamp fully manifested, Éclair felt a slight tingling sensation as the teleporters relocated her within the artificial environment, separating the two teams. The bog was messy - colors of brown and green mixing together in a disgusting cacophony of slime and mildew. The skies above looked dark and cloudy. Even though she knew the ceiling was still there, the sky looked so realistic that she couldn’t tell it from the real thing. She looked around her surroundings with a feeling of foreboding, the tangled vines and drooping trees painting a rather gloomy picture. Éclair liked forests, but she definitely didn’t like swamps. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there seemed to be toxic fumes in the air as thick, green mists blanketed the trees and the vines. Éclair felt nauseous as the fumes overwhelmed her senses. It vaguely smelled like rot and sludge.

The green mists rather reminded her of the thick fogs back on Black Star. With those memories came the screeches of Parasites and the moans of Infected that always lurked in the back of Éclair’s mind. She remembered the roaring fires that engulfed North Star before her friend was completely destroyed. She recalled the slight popping noise as Gumar’s corpse fell to the floor of the Inferno’s bridge. She even thought she could hear Ryan screaming, his pitch growing louder as tentacles grew out of his body while he was bathed in fire and lightning.

“Neurotoxins in the air. Breathers on,” Mozar commanded with a growl.

Éclair nearly let out a startled yelp, though she was grateful for the command as it shocked her out of her momentary panic attack. She just hoped the others didn’t notice how close she was to losing it.

Both Tork and Torsha retrieved small triangular devices from their utility belts and swallowed them. They also activated small shield generators on their belts which surrounded them with translucent energy fields that made their bodies glow slightly with a soft, orange light. It was too bad the two couldn’t use Psionic Armor. Dragon psions were simply too unstable for Psionic Weaponry, though with their scales, they usually didn’t need armor as they could channel psions throughout their bodies much more easily than humans could. As for Torsha, she used Light Elemency which didn’t mesh well with typical Psionic Weaponry. The Monks still hadn’t found a way to create armor that was compatible with Light Elemency, and most attempts usually ended in disaster with the armor and its occupant exploding.

When the young Werewolf and Dragon had finished donning their protective gear, Éclair berated herself for dawdling as she willed her helmet to materialize over her head, enveloping her vision in a blue digital readout of the environment. Her scanners could tell they were in an artificial environment, though the fumes generated by the fog did interfere with her signal, so she doubted she could find the others easily in this soup. As per her preference, her hair came out of the back of the helmet to flow freely behind her shoulders, though with an invisible forcefield intertwined with the follicles to protect her from the hazardous environment. Adorning the sides of her helmet were two white feathered wings.

Éclair and the other younger Psionic Users turned to Mozar, expecting him to also don some protective gear. Mozar shrugged with a grunt. “This one doesn’t need protective gear. He can regenerate faster than the poisons can harm his body. He can also hold his breath for a few hours if need be to stave off the fumes.”

Éclair gawked at the Lycan. “I had no idea Werewolves were that durable,” she said with her voice slightly muffled by the mask’s filter.

“Most Werewolves aren’t. This one’s psions are stronger than most, even for one of his kind.”

Tork glanced at Torsha who stared in awe of Mozar. Then he growled as he deactivated the shield generator on his belt and suddenly stuck his finger into his mouth. Éclair took a step back in surprise when Tork started making gagging noises.

Is he really trying to make himself throw up?!

Torsha gasped as she took Tork’s arm. “Honey Bear! What the heck do you think you’re doing?!”

After some nasty retching sounds, Tork successfully forced himself to vomit as he leaned on his knees, panting heavily. Éclair noticed the Breather he just swallowed was now sinking into the bubbling, murky waters of the swamp.

Tork grinned up at Mozar. “Anything he can do, I can do. Dragons charted the entire universe, traveled through the most hazardous environments known and unknown to mankind, and they did it without a shred of technology. My body once adapted to the vacuum of space. Adapting to an artificial swamp should be child’s play.”

Then Tork turned that cocky grin towards Torsha. The female Werewolf scoffed and jerked her hand away from Tork as she muttered, “I can’t believe you tricked me into being concerned when it was just some macho grandstanding.”

Éclair couldn’t help a giggle. This is a whole new side of Tork that I’ve never seen before. He’s not usually this competitive. It actually reminds me of ... of Ryan. Éclair’s thoughts turned melancholy as she tried not to think about him. In some ways, she’d left a part of her heart back on Black Star. Even if Ryan had come back with her, it felt like they had said goodbye to that part of their lives when they returned. I can’t believe what an unfaithful slut I turned out to be. If Leon knew how much I think about Ryan, would he still fuss over me the way he does?

Mozar rolled his eyes and groaned. “Adolescent flirting. How this one missed that aspect of youth.”

The Werewolf then knelt down, sniffing the ground with his ears perked back. Éclair, being a sensory-type, also did her part as she closed her eyes and expanded her psions to scan the area. Her range had improved dramatically, letting her feel out the chamber’s whole circumference with her psions. The training arena covered an area of near to ten miles in diameter. The dimensional distortion fields of the holodeck could expand the geometric mass of the chamber, but not indefinitely. They were near the edge of the arena, so if they went only a few hundred feet south, they’d hit the wall, though that might get them disqualified if it interfered with the test’s holographic generators.

Mozar grunted as he pawed at some moss at his feet. “This one can tell there are multiple moving entities in the area, likely obstacles for the test. He can’t tell where the Wielders are. They probably know how to mask their scent. But he can find the other team if that is your desire.”

Éclair strained to attune her psions. She couldn’t perceive the other moving targets clearly like Mozar could. The mists were interfering with her sense of direction. But she felt certain she could find the others given how familiar their psions were.

Éclair sighed in satisfaction when she felt the distinct aura of Leon’s psions about ten miles north of their position. “Yes, I can sense them as well. They’re on the other side of the arena about ten miles to the north. I can’t pinpoint their exact location as the fog is giving off some kind of interference, but I can track them if we move in closer.”

Mozar eyed Éclair with an unreadable expression. At first, she thought he was angry at her for some reason, but he surprised her when he said, “You’ve honed your senses well. If what you say is true, you can likely track nearly as well as a Werewolf.”

Unaccustomed to praise from Mozar, Éclair just cleared her throat and nodded.

For some reason, Torsha looked a bit pouty as she said, “I can sense them, too. I may not be as experienced at tracking as you, Mozar, but I can probably find them if I have some time to sift through this fog.”

Mozar gave Torsha a sidelong glance. “This one didn’t doubt that, or you’d hardly be able to call yourself a Werewolf. Since we’ve gone on simulated hunts together, your tracking skills have improved. However, that has little relevance to the matter at hand since we don’t know if we wish to find them yet. At the very least, we should try to open up a line of communication before we decide.”

Torsha flitted a strand of hair behind her ear as she tried to open a channel with her wrist communicator. If Éclair didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn that Torsha was showing off with the way she fluttered her hair around like that.

After a moment, the female Werewolf scowled in frustration. “I can’t raise them. The fog’s too thick. Though if we got closer, I might be able to compensate for the interference.”

“Well, Kormal did say we’d likely have minimal communication with the other team members, so that might not be an option even if we close the distance,” commented Tork with a flutter of his wings that buffeted the mists around him. “Oh, well. Nothing for it, eh? We’ll just have to soldier on and hope for the best.”

Éclair giggled again. “I must say, Tork. Your newfound optimism is most refreshing.”

Tork blushed a little as he rubbed his hairlike mane. Torsha only rolled her eyes at him as she put her hands on her hips as if she might be pouting again.

“If you’re done gushing over each other like Wererabbits in heat, can we come to a consensus on our course of action?” said Mozar gruffly. “This one may be team leader, but this is your test. We move according to your decisions.”

Éclair cupped her chin as she considered all their options. “Can you tell where most of the hostiles are gathered?”

Mozar closed his eyes and sniffed the air a bit before answering. “The mist makes it difficult, but with a little exploration of the area, yes. They are mostly concentrated near the center. This one will be able to deduce their numbers and movements more precisely when we get closer.”

“Then that is likely where the hostages are being held, don’t you think so, old chap?” said Tork, uncharacteristically asserting himself again.

“It’s also likely where the Wielders are, but they probably won’t show themselves until they know where we are,” added Torsha.

“If I were in their position, I’d hold the hostages in two separate locations,” said Éclair as a plan formulated. “We find one of the Wielders, they’ll probably have a hostage nearby. They wouldn’t leave their protection to underlings. I say we go towards the center and try to find the Wielders first.”

Torsha looked up in alarm. “You don’t want to find the others first?”

Éclair had to stifle a pang of fear as she continued her explanation. “I admit, I’d prefer it if we could coordinate the full might of the team. But since there are two targets, it’s better to divide our forces, one for each Wielder. The time limit doesn’t give us much leeway to search around for the others. We’ll make our way to the center while avoiding hostiles as much as possible in the event that we might catch the Wielders by surprise. I doubt Victor and Erica are in the same location. They’re too confident in their abilities to rely on each other. Once we find the Wielders, Mozar and I will keep them busy while Tork and Torsha tend to the hostage. If I know Leon, he’ll likely come up with a similar plan.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Tork as he scratched his head, his ears perked up curiously. “And will the others be able to find their way as easily as we will? All of the team’s sensory-types are here?”

Éclair nodded. “I’m confident they will. Don’t forget that both Leon and Kormal are telepaths. They’ll be able to find us by sensing our brainwaves. They may even have an easier time finding the Wielders than we will. And don’t forget that Grafael’s an Earth Mover. Saurians can often pinpoint enemies by sensing vibrations in the earth, and that improves exponentially with Earth Elemency.”

Mozar crossed his arms as he turned to Tork and Torsha. “Any objections?”

Torsha sighed and shook her head. “Given what little we have to go on, it’s probably our best bet under the circumstances.”

“I concur,” assented Tork.

Mozar nodded. “Very well. Also, keep in mind the abilities of the two Wielders. They might be able to find us with their powers, so stay on guard. An ambush could come for us at any moment.”

Éclair did a mental checklist of what she knew of the two Wielders. Victor is a Medical-Type like me. If I remember correctly, he specializes in shapeshifting, but he could still have sensory abilities. If we keep our psions low, he may not be able to find us. We should also mask our scents. Mozar likely has some concoctions for that if my knowledge of hunters is spot-on, so that should be covered. Victor’s also a master in fire and lightning Elemency, so my ice abilities will be the most effective against him.

As for Erica, Victor said she was a Mental-Type specializing in clairvoyance. If she’s a Mental-Type, she might be able to sense our brainwaves as well, so we should keep our thoughts shielded. It’s also possible that she has battle foresight, and that will be tricky. I’d rather not run into her, but there are ways to overwhelm the senses of someone who can see a split-second into the future. It will just require many powerful attacks from multiple directions occurring simultaneously to give her no room to dodge, so we mustn’t engage her one-on-one. She’s also likely a Water-Type, so my element will be best suited for dealing with her as well. Whoever we run into first, Victor or Erica, our formation that has Mozar and I leading the attack makes the most sense. Me for my abilities, and Mozar for his experience. Now, let’s just hope I don’t bungle it.

As Éclair took a step forward, she gasped as a sharp pain shot up her leg. She quickly stepped back, removing her boot from the green, bubbling swamp water. Éclair immediately ran a hand over her leg to check for injury. She found none, though the armor was very hot as if it had been burned. Smoke rose from where the liquid touched her boot, though quickly dissipated when she flared her psions, causing the droplets on her Psionic Armor to disintegrate. It didn’t seem like her suit suffered any damage, and the pain was likely due to the sudden change in temperature.

“Seems the water is acidic,” Éclair hypothesized. “We’ll have to be careful and only step on dry land. We might have to use the trees if the waters become too prevalent.”

Torsha grimaced. “An acid swamp. I don’t like swamps to begin with, but this one just had to be made out of acid.”

Tork leaned down to Torsha. “If you’d like, sweet chestnut, you can ride on my back while I fly.”

Torsha huffed in annoyance as she pushed Tork away by his face. “Stop trying to get on my good side.”

Before they left, Mozar handed each of them a vial that contained a gray liquid. Éclair recognized it as a potion for removing scents so Victor wouldn’t be able to smell them. Though a sensory-type could still hear them if they made too much noise or perhaps sense their psions if they didn’t keep their powers suppressed, so they avoided both after pouring the scented concoction over themselves. After a warning from Éclair, they also kept their minds guarded using telepathic techniques Kormal taught them in case Erica could use telepathy. This technique simply entailed focusing on a powerful image that evoked a sense of security in their psyche. For Éclair, the image was North Star, a symbol of safety and love within her heart. With Éclair’s mental barriers up, only someone very familiar to her would be able to engage with her telepathically, such as Leon. They moved slowly so as to not draw attention to themselves. They could’ve traversed the whole ten miles in a few minutes, but sensory-types like Victor could track targets that were moving faster more easily, so they kept up a leisurely pace - which was about as fast as a Pureskin sprinting. Éclair, Mozar, and Torsha kept to the trees as much as possible while Tork flew just below the treeline. Any higher, and the Dragon risked detection. Éclair figured that when they got closer to their targets, Leon would make contact with her telepathically, but until then, she wanted to avoid any altercations. Mozar would stop every so often and sniff the air. After a brief conference between him and Torsha, they’d steer the group in another direction to avoid an enemy patrol.

Éclair wished she could sense the enemies as well as Mozar could, but the mist made her senses foggy, so she only had a vague grasp of where the hostiles were. She could at least tell there were a great many enemy units wandering around the swamp, at least a few hundred by her reckoning. She felt apprehensive not knowing what kind of enemy units they’d be fighting. Thisimius could cook up all kinds of adversaries with his droids, from Insectoids to Dragons, so there was no telling what they’d be up against. Still, she figured that the Wielders were the real threat, so she envisioned scenarios on how she might deal with either Erica or Victor. Leon likely came to the same conclusion as she had, that half their team would keep the Wielders busy while the other half rescued the hostages. That meant that Leon’s team would engage one Wielder, and Éclair’s would take on the other. After more than an hour of constant backtracking to avoid enemy patrols, Mozar finally brought the group to a halt with a raised paw. Éclair and Torsha jumped to the branch behind Mozar just as Tork swooped in to perch on another branch above them like a giant bird. Éclair’s senses were starting to attune to the mist, so she could tell that a sizeable force of somethings were just beyond the clearing ahead of them. By the feel of their auras, the beings were mechanical, but that bore little relevance as they would be programmed to mimic an enemy adapted to this swamp.

“We should wait here until Leon and the others draw closer,” Mozar whispered in a voice that was barely audible.

“Can you sense the Wielders, because I can’t feel their psions anywhere?” whispered Éclair.

Mozar shook his head uncertainly. “They’re keeping a low profile for now. However, this one can tell they’re nearby. The air is charged with psions. Wielders are too powerful to completely suppress their energies.”

Éclair strained to scan the air for charged psions like Mozar said, but when she couldn’t find anything, she decided to just take his word for it. She was just starting to worry that Leon might not contact her when she felt a presence brushing against her mind and recognized him.

Leon, are you near the center like we are? she asked mentally.

Indeed, he acknowledged, and she felt so grateful to hear his voice even if it was just in her head. We had a time of it avoiding all the patrols, but we managed to get here a few minutes ago. I’m glad that you and I came to the same conclusion. The hostages and the Wielders are somewhere near the center of the arena. Although, the hostages are probably far enough away from one another that we won’t be able to help each other when we engage the enemy.

Do you really think it’s that simple? You don’t think the Wielders could just be baiting us and keeping the hostages in a place with less security?

Éclair could strangely feel Leon shake his head through their mental link. Victor is a pragmatic man. His tactics usually don’t involve elaborate trickery. He wins his campaigns by not making mistakes and waiting for his enemies to overplay their hands. From what I can tell of Erica, she is much the same. A military-minded woman who prefers to face her enemies openly and honestly. Besides, their strength is such that they don’t need gimmicks to hold the advantage.

I did scan the area telepathically in case they tried something like that, added Kormal into the mental link, and Éclair almost jerked at the intrusion as she didn’t know the Sage was in her mind as well. Apart from the cybernetic brains of the security droids, I can sense four distinct minds in this area. Two are the Wielders, and the other two are the hostages. Though I can’t tell which is which as they keep flaring their psions sporadically to throw me off.

Éclair turned to Mozar and whispered, “Leon’s in contact with me telepathically.”

The Werewolf nodded. “Yes, Kormal is talking to the rest of us as well. He says that they have a plan to pinpoint the exact location of the hostages, but it will take a little time.”

Eclair gasped as she turned her attention back to Leon. Is that true? You have a way to find them?

Yes, Leon answered guardedly. Grafael is sending small vibrations into the ground with his tail. The hostages won’t be moving or wearing heavy Psionic Armor, so he’ll be able to distinguish them by their lighter weight. It’ll take a little time as he must make the vibrations as miniscule as possible so Victor doesn’t notice. As soon as he finds them, I’ll give you the exact coordinates so we can make a break for the hostages. With any luck, we can tag them with our transponders before the Wielders even know what’s going on. Rachel and Grafael will be sent to one while your team goes to the other. The rest of us will distract the Wielders.

Alright, said Éclair into the mental link. She tried to still her racing heart with some rationalizations. At least they can’t use their full powers lest they risk destabilizing the simulation. As soon as Grafael finds the hostages, Mozar and I will make a big show to draw off as many of the guards as we can. Hopefully, that will also get Victor and Erica’s attention so you can-

Éclair felt her heart stop when she sensed movement. She could make out a shadowy figure within the fog moving towards them. The hazy outline of a human-shaped entity was stumbling through the swamp at a meandering pace. She could tell it was a droid by the feel of its aura and the slight mechanical noises of gears she heard within its body. She couldn’t make out much details about the droid, but it was holding a long object, likely an energy rifle. It didn’t look like it had noticed them and there weren’t any of its allies nearby, but it was steadily drawing nearer.

“Mozar,” said Éclair warningly.
“This one sees it,” the Werewolf said as he pulled out a small rod from his robes. The rod instantly expanded into his golden staff, the spear point charging with a blue laser beam. A Werewolf’s sacred staff was called a Fang, but only former Alphas like Mozar had golden ones.

Before the Werewolf could snipe the hostile, Éclair raised her hand. “Wait. My bow is better equipped for sniping than your Fang. The arrows lock on to the enemy’s energy like a heat-seeking missile. I can even control the arrow’s trajectory with my psions so that it lands exactly where I want it to.”

Mozar cast her a doubtful look. “You’re certain? The Fang has a silencer function, whereas your arrows cause a lot of collateral damage with their ice dispersions.”

“My arrows only disperse ice if I infuse them with psions. I can make silent kills from a distance if I so choose.”

Mozar nodded as he lowered his staff. “Very well. Take it with one shot. We can’t let it warn the others before the Saurian finds the hostages.”

Éclair felt Tork and Torsha tense beside her as they tracked the bogey. The winding way the droid shuffled through the swamp was somewhat unsettling. Why did Thisy have to make these droids act so creepy? She also wondered how the droid could move freely through the acidic swamps, but then reasoned that Thisy would account for something like that. Steeling herself, Éclair took a deep breath as she summoned her Psionic Bow which materialized in her hand in a vaporous, white mist. By summoning her weapon more gradually, she avoided creating a flash of blue light that usually accompanied the weapon’s appearance.

Éclair’s new bow was a custom design. The longbow was silver with blue-glowing runes going down its frame. A thin wire of blue energy acted as the bowstring. At each end of the bow were sharp blades fashioned to resemble bird feathers so Éclair could engage in close-quarters combat and use her bow as a staff if need be. Only Éclair could safely touch the bow without being harmed by the psions within it.

Éclair steadied her breathing as she drew back the bowstring. As she did, a silver arrow with a blue-glowing crystal tip appeared on the string already notched. She had been working with Thisimius to negate her need for a quiver as it was inconvenient to draw arrows during combat. To account for this discrepancy, Éclair had found a way to store her quiver inside the bow itself. Now, all she needed to do was pull back the bowstring, and an arrow would appear automatically. She would be able to fire arrows indefinitely so long as she had enough psions to generate them.

Éclair kept her psions low so the bow and arrow didn’t glow too brightly. She had to remind herself not to charge the arrow with her Ice Elemency. Though that would decrease the arrow’s lethality, it was still made from tough Chromovite steel, the same material the Saurians used for their extremely durable weapons and starships. She angled the shot downwards so the arrow would go into the ground when it passed through the target, otherwise, it might go through a few trees and alert the other hostiles. The target was about eighty meters away. Child’s play. Éclair could even shoot it through a tree if she needed to since her arrows were that sharp and their velocity was that deadly. She didn’t have to necessarily see her target with her enhanced senses, but she did her due diligence as a marksman and waited for a clean shot.

When the hostile stepped out of a thicket and came into view, Éclair froze. It was a child. A young girl probably not much older than thirteen. She had long, scraggly ashen hair and deathly pale skin. By her tattered brown overalls, she looked like a farmhand. With Éclair’s enhanced senses, she could make out every detail. The girl ... she was a Zombie. An undead abomination brought back to life through unholy means just like the Infected on Black Star. Éclair could tell by the vagrant look in the girl’s sunken eyes, the way she shuffled around with a bent back hunched over unnaturally. She could see the girl’s filthy, yellow teeth as she snarled, her crooked jaw opened at an irregular, lopsided manner as drool dribbled down her chin. The dead look on that girl’s features ... it was almost exactly like the Infected; those poor, condemned souls turned into meat bag slaves by their Parasite overlords.

“Éclair?” said Torsha in concern.

Éclair barely heard Torsha as her hands started shaking. Her breath congealed. Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest. She remembered ... remembered the little boy who had been Infected by Parasites in the asteroid field, still alive enough to move as a Parasite feasted on his intestines. She remembered an infected woman screaming for someone to end what remained of her life just before Éclair was forced to behead her.

The Zombie suddenly spun around to stare at Éclair with dead, white eyes. She roared like a savage beast, her cry not unlike the noise a Parasite might make. Then the creature raised her rifle and took aim at Éclair. Just before she pulled the trigger, Mozar dropped the monster with a blue energy bolt shot from his spear. Her head exploded in a torrent of flame and metal. Though the exterior was very convincing, inside was not a creature of living flesh, but a mechanical droid filled with sputtering wires and burnt microchips. More cries echoed in the woods. Éclair could hear the shuffling of dozens of feet as their enemies became aware of their presence. Soon a veritable army had gathered around the corpse of their fallen comrade, all armed with energy rifles that shot yellow laser bolts. The Zombie Droids were dressed similarly to the girl, wearing dirty, civilian clothes that made them look like farmers. They were comprised of human men, women, and children of all ages, as if a local settlement had suffered an outbreak. The Zombies howled as they spotted Éclair and the others in the trees, already firing their energy weapons.