Chapter 16 – The Tide of War
The escape from the pens was a brutal, running battle. Skodar, burdened with his family, could not use his full speed. He became a mobile fortress, a whirlwind of plasma fire and kinetic strikes. Makosra, though frail, wielded the shock-baton with surprising ferocity, disabling any guard who got too close on their flank. Sukodar clung to Skodar's neck, his eyes wide, not with fear now, but with a dawning, fierce pride.
They fought through corridors, up service ramps, leaving a trail of stunned and broken guards. Skodar's energy was depleting, the constant drain of combat and healing his family taking its toll. They burst out of a secondary entrance into a loading bay, blinking in the harsh daylight.
Before them was a parked hover-transport, its engine idling. A driver was loading crates.
"We need that," Skodar said.
He set Sukodar down."Stay with Grandma."
He sprinted toward the transport.The driver, a portly Varikdar, fumbled for a weapon. Skodar disarmed him with a twist of his wrist and shoved him into a stack of crates. He helped his family into the open cargo bed.
"Hold on!"
He slid into the driver's seat.The controls were simple: throttle, levitation, steering. He slammed the throttle forward. The transport lurched into the air and shot out of the bay, skimming over the rooftops of Taksipa.
Behind them, sirens wailed. Pursuit skiffs, sleek and armed, rose from the Arena complex.
The chase was on.
Skodar wove through the canyon-like streets,the transport groaning in protest. Plasma bolts sizzled past, melting chunks from buildings. He had no weapons on the transport. He had to outrun them.
He pushed the vehicle to its limits, heading for the chaotic, labyrinthine slums of the city's outer rim—the Twist. It was a place of crumbling architecture and makeshift bridges, a natural maze.
A skiff cut him off, firing a net-cannon. Skodar jerked the controls, banking hard. The net missed, but the maneuver sent the transport scraping along a wall in a shower of sparks. Makosra and Sukodar cried out, holding on for dear life.
They couldn't outrun them forever. The transport was losing power, a plasma bolt having grazed its engine housing.
In the rear-view monitor, Skodar saw the lead skiff lining up for a kill-shot. He had one option.
"Grandma, take the wheel! Keep it steady!"
"What?Skodar, no!"
He didn't answer.He climbed out of the cockpit, onto the roof of the speeding transport. The wind tore at him. The pursuing skiff was closing, its cannon glowing.
Skodar centered himself. He drew deeply from his core, from the still pool that was now churning with exhaustion. He focused all the remaining energy into his legs.
He jumped.
Not away,but toward the pursuing skiff.
He sailed through the air,a blue comet against the smoggy sky. He landed on the skiff's hood, his enhanced strength denting the metal.
The two Yunvarn inside stared in shock. Skodar punched through the canopy, grabbed the gunner, and threw him into the open air. He grabbed the pilot by the throat.
"Turn around. Tell them you lost us in the Twist."
The pilot,terrified, nodded frantically.
Skodar leaped back to his own faltering transport as the skiff veered away, firing its cannons harmlessly into the air to sell the lie.
He dropped back into the cockpit, his breath ragged, his energy reserves critically low. The other pursuers, seeing their lead ship break off, hesitated, confused.
It was the opening they needed. Skodar dove the transport into a narrow, steam-choked alley in the heart of the Twist, killing the engines. They settled into the shadows, silent.
The pursuit skiffs buzzed overhead, then moved on, their scanners fouled by the Twist's dense energy interference from a million illegal power taps.
For a moment, there was quiet, broken only by their panting breaths.
They had escaped the immediate hunt. But they were in a stolen vehicle, in a hostile city, with every authority figure looking for them. And Skodar was almost spent.
Sukodar looked at his brother, at the glow faintly visible beneath his skin even in his depleted state. "Brother… you're… different."
Makosra touched Skodar's arm, her old eyes seeing everything. "The mountain. The light at the gorge. Vaktari found you."
Skodar nodded, too tired for explanations. "She did. And she showed me what we really are. What we can be." He looked at the darkening sky. "But we're not safe. We need to get out of the city. To the sanctuary."
"Where?" Makosra asked.
"Home," Skodar said, thinking of the mountain and the ancient chamber. "A new home."
But getting there would require crossing patrolled wildlands. They needed supplies. They needed to hide. And Skodar needed to recover.
The first battle was won.
The war for their very existence had just begun.