Page 37 of Ashes & Aether

“Sweet dreams, Commander!”

The low, rumbling sound of his chuckles follows me all the way down the cold corridor.

11

ORIEN

The blare of the bunker klaxons shatters the predawn quiet, bathing the concrete corridors in a violent, strobing red.

I don’t run, but I lengthen my stride, my boots eating the distance to the communications hub. The scent of ozone and human panic hits my enhanced senses before the blast doors even hiss open.

Maggie stands over Jenkins’s console. She hasn’t slept. The dark smudges under her blue eyes contrast sharply with the fresh coat of deep-red lipstick she wears like a shield.

“Numbers,” she snaps, her fingers pressing against the edge of the metal desk.

“Thousands, ma’am,” Jenkins replies, his voice cracking. He presses the headset against his ear. “They breached the outer perimeter at Manchester. The local garrison is falling back to the factory district, but the Ghorvek are swarming the barricades. They’re turning the wounded right on the front lines.”

Maggie’s spine locks. From our conversations these last moonfalls, I’ve learned that Manchester is a vital industrial stronghold. If it falls, the northern supply lines shatter.

“Reroute the reserve battalions from Leeds,” she orders, her voice becoming emotionless. She’s always like that when her people are dying. “Tell Commander Jones to hold the factory gates at all costs.”

I step up beside her, my presence bringing a momentary hush to the frantic room. “Human reinforcements will not arrive in time to hold a swarm of that magnitude. You need Avaren.”

I lift my hand. My command cube materializes from my palm port, hovering above the console. “Orien to Sovereign forces on Earth. I need assistance. The human city of Manchester.”

The silence is interrupted by young Zane’s quiet voice. “Zane, Jorik, and Sorin en route, Chief Orien.”

I retract the cube and look down at Maggie. “I will handle the swarm.”

“I’m coming with you.” She turns away from the desk, already pulling a dark, tailored coat over her shoulders.

I catch her elbow. The spark of static electricity snaps between our skin, but neither of us pulls away this time. “You are a commander, Maggie. You belong in a bunker, not in the crosshairs of a Ghorvek hunting pack.”

“My people are being slaughtered.” She glares up at me, her eyes burning with anger. “I will not sit underground and listen to them die on a radio feed. Fly the ship, Orien.”

I hold her gaze for one long, measuring second.

SUBJECT: ELMSLEIGH, MARGARET.

THREAT TO HERSELF: EXTREME.

COMPLIANCE LIKELIHOOD: ZERO.

I release her arm. “Do not bleed on my upholstery.”

We sprint to the launch bays. The Veil wakes the moment my boots hit the ramp, the matte-black fighter ship humming as its systems come online.

Maggie straps into the copilot seat, and we dash through the gray skies over the British Isles, faster than any human vessel is capable of traveling.

Manchester is a graveyard of smoke and fire. Its sprawling industrial district burns below us. On the viewing screen, I track the massive, hulking gray-green shapes of the Ghorvek pouring over makeshift concrete barricades. Human soldiers return fire with primitive ballistic weapons.

“Take us down,” Maggie orders, then speaks into her radio. “Jones, shift your heavy gunners to the west flank! You have a breach at the loading docks!”

I drop the Veil into a hover fifty feet above the burning factory roof. “Stay in the chair, Commander. The vessel’s nanites will keep you safe.”

The ramp lowers and wind howls into the cockpit, carrying the stench of ash and Ghorvek blood. My nano armor floods over my skin, the orange neural filaments flaring bright along my exoskeleton. I dive into the abyss.

I hit the muddy ground with a shockwave that shatters the earth and throws three charging Ghorvek off their feet.