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Chaos Rising	By : TerminusEst Category: +S through Z > Sonic Views: 1284 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sonic The Hedgehog game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter
Ten: Fall of 61 Cygni Part II
"The
course of the essence sharpens the lines

Of
the dimensions I am trembling between

The
inner cause of the outer cause

Reflections
within the core"
--Borknagar
- Ad Noctum
As
soon as Riptos stepped out of the infirmary into the corridor outside
he was met with the sound of voices, footsteps, and the scraping of
wheels against the ground. He looked over to the right and saw
several medical technicians quickly wheeling a gurney towards the
infirmary door. He stepped out of the way and watched them pass, and
then his heart stopped when he saw the hedgehog on the gurney. A
hedgehog in his late twenties with red fur lay on the gurney,
unconscious, a rag wrapped around his head with blood soaking through
and a breathing mask around his muzzle.
Oh,
God, Riptos thought as he recognized Rex on the gurney. His
friend was deathly still, his eyes closed. Was he even alive?
"Excuse
me," he said as he followed the technicians.
"Sorry,
this is an emergency, sir. Please don't interrupt us," said one
of the medtechs, not even turning to look at him.
Riptos
could do nothing but watch as they wheeled his friend into the
emergency room. His blood had turned to ice inside his veins. All of
his thoughts had shattered, leaving only fear and sorrow for his
friend. He looked down at the floor for a few seconds before turning
and walking back out of the infirmary. This was the first time he had
seen one of his comrades wounded or killed. Why did it have to be
Rex? he thought. It was unbearable to think about, but he could
think of nothing else.
Now
Riptos understood the full horror of war. It was worse than he had
ever imagined. The casualties were not statistics. They were people,
with lives, who loved and were loved. And they could even be his
friends.
--
Fiz
clicked on her flashlight as she entered the dark cargo hold. She had
come to unchain her apprentice Dynamo. Dynamo was left manic and
highly unstable after surviving a telepathic attack by Takeo Sekaro.
His psychosis made it too dangerous to let him roam around. He only
seemed to be calm when he was restrained in a dark room. When out in
the open he would attack anything and anyone besides Fiz and Abbadon,
her other apprentice. Despite his madness, he had his uses. He could
connect with and manipulate electronics as if they were part of
himself using the implants in his arms, and blades attached to his
hands made him a deadly fighter. Plus, he made an excellent terror
weapon and even more excellent diversion.
She
saw a glint as the light reflected off Dynamo's eyes. His face was
gaunt, stretched taut, a lust for death and brutality in his eyes. A
killing machine through and through. He let out a bizarre sucking
noise as he grinned widely.
"You're
going to kill today, Dynamo," said Fiz as she walked over to
him.
"Kill
who?" Dynamo's voice was harsh and scraping, halfway between a
growl and a shriek.
"Humans.
Sound fun?"
Dynamo
grinned again, spittle dribbling down his chin. Fiz pulled out a key
and opened his shackles. The mad hedgehog stood up, his expression
feral and savage. He was no threat to her, but to the humans she was
about to be in combat with, he would be a terrifying sight. He
followed her out of the cargo hold, hunched over like a gorilla. She
scratched him behind the ears and listened to his weird, ragged purr.
Johan
"Abbadon" Kessler stood waiting for her as she left the
cargo hold, Dynamo in tow. He was a tall, massively built raccoon
with a mechanical arm ending in six retractable edged and blunt
weapons. Metal plates covered his chest, providing built-in armor,
and moderate telepathic powers rounded out his deadly talents. Unlike
Dynamo, he had a cold, calculating mind, just as vicious, but more
restrained and rational. He delighted in devising inventive and
excruciating ways to kill his enemies.
"It's
showtime," said Fiz as she turned to face him.
"I'm
more than ready," said Abbadon with a grim smile.
"Remember,
Abbadon," she said. "No mutilations."
"Of
course."
"We're
going to be boarding the humans' asteroid base from space, so we'll
be wearing stealth suits for this mission." Fiz led her two
henchmen into her ship's staging room. Three black suits of powered
armor with built-in thruster packs hung on the wall. Abbadon's suit
featured a gasketed opening for the end of his mechanical arm to fit
through so he could deploy his weapons.
The
three of them disrobed and put on their stealth suits. The black
visors concealed their faces, making them identifable only as
malevolent black shapes bent on slaughter and pain. They made their
way to the air lock. In their mission they would save lives by taking
others. Death for death. It was beautifully symmetrical.
They
entered the airlock, the heavy pressure door closing behind them.
Their stealth suits only had enough fuel to reach the asteroid base.
The return trip would be via teleporter. The outer airlock door,
opened, revealing the vacuum of space. The asteroid base loomed below
them, completely unsuspecting. They would be in for a rude awakening
indeed. Fiz activated her ion rockets and blasted out of the airlock,
Abbadon and Dynamo following close behind.
--
Skitz
followed closely behind Lt. Commander Anastasio, hitting his
afterburners in unison with the leader. He had been assigned as
Anastasio's wingman after Rex was shot down. He had been able to do
nothing but watch helplessly as the recovery craft towed away Rex's
damaged cockpit module. They had said nothing other than that he had
been taken to the infirmary. He knew nothing of how badly injured
Rex was or even whether he was alive or dead. He fought the urge to
shed a tear as he thought of the man with whom he had trained, the
rising star of his squadron. In sheer talent, if not skill, Rex
outshined even Riptos himself.
To
fly a mission with neither Rex nor Riptos was almost unbearable. This
upstart Anastasio clearly and constantly expressed his contempt for
everyone in the squadron. He could not fathom how such a total
asshole could even be considered for the post of squadron leader.
Riptos treated the members of his squadron like sons. Gedalio
Anastasio treated them as burdens.
The
Mobian defense of Titus II was falling apart. The Mobian fleet had
lost a quarter of its ships and they were being pushed closer and
closer to the planet. The Earthers left a gap to allow the Mobians to
retreat or send back dead or wounded, but they were otherwise
surrounded.
Skitz
watched dozens of Earth fighters whiz by as he entered the combat
zone. Space was criss-crossed with dozens of particle beams slicing
across the cosmos to slam into armored panels and shields. He rolled
his ship sideways as a missile flashed by. He retaliated with a
missile of his own, destroying his attacker. A Mobian cruiser
crumbled beneath his ship as it was hit by six particle beams at
once.
He
fired his guns, yellow beams stabbing at the void to hopefully tear
through Earth ships' shields and armor. The scene was that of pure
chaos as hundreds of ships swerved, juked, and slid in a chaotic
dance of death. He watch an Earth fighter tumble end over end after
one of his shots clipped one of its gun pods. A blast from a capital
ship finished it off.
He
looked on as the ends of the main cannons of the Earth cruisers
glowed blue, ready to release another massive strike on the Mobian
fleet. It was as if space itself brightened from the light of
hundreds of particle beams. As he looked back, he saw in horror that
they were not firing at the Mobian ships, but past them, at the
planet. His guts twisted as he watched the Earth ships bomb Titus II
relentlessly, destroying infrastructure and defensive positions with
the precision of a surgeon. He could almost hear the cries of
thousands of dead in his mind.
He
snarled and tore into an Earth bomber before it could fire its
warheads at a Mobian ship. It exploded violently, the shockwaves from
its bombs throwing his ship off course. He quickly got his fighter
back under control and redirected power from areas of his shields
that were weakened. He saw a Mobian cruiser break up out of the
corner of his eye, flames gouting from numerous breaches in its hull.
The
Earth ships opened flaps on their prows, unleashing hundreds of
nuclear missiles at the Mobian fleet. Some of the missiles were shot
down, but others found their targets, blasting apart capital ships
and any fighters that were too close to the capships targeted. Just
as he looked back upon his leader, an incandescent blue beam lanced
out from an enemy corvette and skewered Anastasio's fighter. His
erstwhile superior died instantly, his ship disintegrating within
moments.
Skitz
was now at the top of his squadron's chain of command. He had never
been a leader of anything before, but he had no choice but to be one
now.
"Dude,
Anastasio's dead!" said Pinky. "Holy shit!"
"Don't
tell me," said Skitz. "I saw it happen with my own eyes.
All right, Deathwish, you're my wingman. Everyone else, carry out
whatever orders you already have."
Skitz
made a brief prayer as he steadied his shaking hand. He did not dare
close his eyes. Did he have the makings of a leader? He would find
out. Sighing through his nostrils, he hit his afterburners a few
seconds after Deathwish assumed formation behind him, the chaos of
war surrounding him.
--
Rex
felt a terrible, raw pain in his forehead as he regained
consciousness. He felt someone's hand resting between his ears and a
bandage around his head. He opened his eyes and saw a blur of black,
yellow, flesh color, and olive green. "Riptos?" he groaned.
"I'm
here." Rex's eyes focused and he saw Riptos standing over him,
smiling warmly.
"Where
am I?"
"You're
in the infirmary. You had a concussion when your fighter exploded
just as you ejected. You have a cut on your head, which the doctors
closed with stitches."
"I
feel horrible."
"That's
a combination of post-concussion digestive upset and the drugs you're
being given. There's a bucket on the nightstand if you need it."
"I
guess I must've been in a battle then, but I don't remember. The last
thing I remember was being in the briefing room with the substitute
squadron leader."
"Some
memory loss is normal after a concussion."
"Oh,
shit." Rex grabbed the bucket from the nightstand and threw up
into it, retching and gagging for a few seconds afterward.
"You
can wash your mouth out with this." Riptos put a straw in Rex's
mouth. "Be careful not to drink too fast."
Rex
eagerly gulped down water until the straw was removed. "Thanks,"
he said.
"You're
welcome. The doctors performed a CAT scan of your head. There's no
permanent damage. However, you won't be able to fly again for two
weeks."
"Two
weeks? Christ. The war might be over by then at the rate we're
going."
"Maybe.
But with a head injury we can't take chances. Oh, by the way, I have
something for you." Riptos pulled out two medals. One was an Ace
pin, awarded to a pilot for having five kills in a campaign, and the
other was the Blood Cross, an award for wounds or death in combat.
"Two
medals at once. How often does that happen? Granted, one of them is
one I'd rather have gone without."
Riptos
scratched Rex behind the ears. "I'll take them to your quarters
later. The nurses would have a fit if I pinned them to your hospital
gown."
Rex
chuckled as Riptos sat down in a chair by his bedside. "You had
me worried sick, Rex," said Riptos as he stroked Rex's brow with
his thumb. "I left the infirmary after my back exam just in time
for me to see them bring you in."
"So
what about whatever battle I was in before I got knocked out?"
"They're
not saying anything about how we're faring. My guess is that we're
losing, as usual."
"I'm
glad you're here, Riptos."
"And
I'm glad you're alive." Riptos rubbed Rex behind the ears again.
"Until now, I'd never really thought of me or someone close to
me being hurt or killed in this war. And now, I can't stop thinking
about it."
Rex
smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying Riptos' company. As much as he
wished to sleep, thoughts of the battle waging in 61 Cygni kept him
awake. He had narrowly escaped death. He could not help but dread
that the Mobian Federation would not be so lucky.
--
Fiz
landed lightly as the artificial gravity systems in the floor of the
docking bay pulled her down. Abbadon and Dynamo soon followed. She
motioned to Dynamo. "Hack the airlock control panel for us,"
she said.
"Sure,"
rasped Dynamo as he connected his prosthetic manipulators to the
control panel. Within seconds, the airlock's outer door opened. The
three of them entered the airlock, waiting as the airlock filled with
air and the inner door opened, granting them access to the station.
The
three of them removed the outer layers of their stealth suits,
leaving them in the neoprene undersuits. Walking around a space
station in a bulky spacesuit would be impractical. They stuffed the
discarded outer suits into a nearby closet.
/All
right/ she said to Abbadon and Dynamo telepathically. /Let's
split up. Dynamo, you go find the station's power center and take
control. Abbadon, you kill people, blow things up, and generally get
everyone's attention while I head towards the control center. I'll
keep a telepathic link open beteen the three of us./
Abbadon
and Dynamo nodded in unison. The three of them went off in different
directions. Fiz crawled into an air vent and began to make her way
through the ventilation system. She had memorized the base layout
obtained from scans before beginning the mission. She knew exactly
where she was going. Soon she could hear shouts and gunfire in the
distance. Abbadon was already at work.
--
Holding
a fallen guard's rifle in one hand, Abbadon shot a human in the
stomach while stabbing another one with a blade in his mechanical
arm. While the officer was wearing an Earth naval uniform, the men
serving him were wearing a different, black leather uniform bearing
an emblem of a black gloved fist in a white circle. It did not match
any known Earth uniform. They carried a motley assortment of weapons
from several manufacturers, some modified beyond factory
specifications.
He
lunged at one of the leather-clad soldiers and stabbed him in the
groin, bringing the man to his knees, before shooting him in the head
and jumping out of the way as another soldier fired at him. He could
read the soldiers' intentions with telepathy before they acted. and
combined with telepathic confusion, he was able to render the enemy
soldiers completely impotent to stop him. Some of them were even
shooting each other.
He
dashed away down the hall as the enemy guards were overcome by chaos.
They would be back soon, and would again be driven mad and
slaughtered. The body count would be glorious.
--
Dynamo
shambled through the corridors vacated by the diversion Abbadon had
created, trying his best to be silent. He stepped lightly and quieted
his normally loud, raspy breathing. He kept his hand-blades out,
ready to stab anyone who came in his path, or fry someone with an
electrical discharge from the blades. He turned around the corner and
saw a human technician working at a control panel. He shocked the
man's brain, killing him instantly. The smell of burning flesh made
him salivate. He loved the smell, the sound, everything about people
dying. He grinned like a lunatic as he stepped over the technician's
corpse.
He
connected his manipulators to the control panel, viewing a map of the
base, taking note of where enemy patrols were. He might have been
psychotic, but he wasn't stupid. He watched the panel for about a
minute to memorize the panel and then slinked away, pausing briefly
to stab the human's corpse and lick the blood off his hand-blades. He
savored the metallic flavor, better than any wine.
He
ducked into a corner as a guard walked past, leaving when the coast
is clear. He fought off the temptation to kill one of the guards and
drain his blood. He could spill blood later.
--
Adrian
checked his email on the computer installed in his room. As usual,
they all seemed to be unsolicited advertisements, scams, and messages
with bizarre subjects whose contents were better left unknown. As he
looked through the new messages, one of the sender names caught his
eye: "Rex Christensen". Rex had sent him a message? He
opened it quickly and began to read.
"Hey
Adrian:
Sorry
I couldn't talk to you these past few days. Riptos was really upset
after I woke up with a hangover and he's pretty much watching me
constantly now. Hopefully I should get a free day soon and we'll be
able to meet up. No drinks this time, though. I already got punished
with a day confined to quarters and forfeiture of three days' pay for
getting all shitfaced the last time.
"As
you probably know thanks to the gloom and doom crew in the news
media, we're losing the battle in 61 Cygni. The Earthers are getting
ready to attack Titus II and I seriously doubt we'll be able to hold
the planet. Riptos is getting his back looked at by Bookshire
today--he's been having backaches for a long time, probably because
he's getting older--so we have a substitute squadron leader who's an
arrogant little dirtbag and has some ridiculous Italian name--Gedalio
Anastasio. The first thing he did this morning was berate us for
several minutes. And he's the same rank I am, so I had to take a
temporary demotion for the little cowfucker. I hope he never gets a
permanent command.
"If
Mobius gets bombed and you lose your home, you're welcome to stay
with me and my wife until you can find a new place to live. I don't
think Connie would mind at all. I told her about you and she's eager
to meet you.
"Well,
I'm about to go on a combat sortie, so I'll have to wrap it up here.
Please respond as soon as it is convenient for you. I hope your day
is better than mine is shaping up to me. See you around.
--Rex"
Adrian
smiled. He was wondering why Rex hadn't talked to him recently, and
it made him happy to know that his new friend was still concerned
about him. His eyes flicked over "combat sortie" again, and
he suddenly felt a vague dread. Had anything happened to him on that
mission?
He
downloaded the latest casualty reports for the war, which by
government policy were open to the public. He entered "Christensen"
into the search box. What he saw next turned his blood to ice:
"CHRISTENSEN,
REX. LIEUTENANT COMMANDER. WOUNDED IN ACTION."
He
felt a lump in his throat. Rex was hurt, but there was no information
on how he was injured, what injuries he had, or how seriously he was
hurt. For all he knew, Rex could be near death. He quickly stood up
and made for the door. He had to check up on him. He just made a
friend. Losing him so quickly would be beyond terrible.
--
Riptos
picked up the phone in his quarters. As the squadron leader, it was
his duty to report injuries or deaths in his squadron to family
members. Rex's parents were on Earth, which was unreachable due to
the war, but he could call his wife. He dialed Connie Christensen's
phone number and waited for her to respond.
He
heard the click as the phone on the other end was taken off the hook.
"Hello?" said Connie.
"Hello,
this is Riptos. Remember me? I'm Rex's squadron leader. We had dinner
last Christmas."
"Of
course."
"I
need to talk to you about your husband."
"Rex?
Did something happen to him?"
Riptos
closed his eyes briefly, trying to find the best words to say to her.
"He was wounded in action. His fighter was destroyed, and he
ejected late, so he was caught in the blast wave."
He
heard Connie gasp. "Oh my God!" She sounded as if she was
on the edge of tears.
"He
suffered a concussion and a laceration on his forehead. He lost
consciousness for about an hour. He'll be OK, but he won't be able to
fly for a week. He's currently in the infirmary. I can bring the
phone to him if you want."
"Please.
Oh, God, I hope he'll be all right. Head injuries have a way of being
worse than they seem."
"Sure.
I'll call you back when I get to his hospital room and let him talk
to you."
"Thank
you so much, Riptos."
"You're
welcome." He pressed the "off" button on the phone and
walked briskly out of his room.
--
When
Riptos entered Rex's room in the infirmary, he saw him chatting
avidly with the youth with whom he had gotten drunk with a week ago.
"Move aside, kid," he said to the young man. I've got Rex's
wife on the phone and she wants to talk to him."
Adrian
nodded and leaned against the wall near the foot of Rex's bed. Riptos
handed the phone to Rex, who put it to his ear.
"Hey,
Connie. It's me, Rex," he said. "Yeah, I got shot down in
combat today and got my head bashed in by a piece of equipment in the
cockpit. I've got a splitting headache and stitches in my head, but
other than that I'm fine. The doctors don't want me on duty for a
week in case any hidden problems crop up. They're going to keep me in
the hospital for observation tonight, but after that I can go back to
my quarters."
"Oh,
Rex, sweetie, I'm so glad to know that you're not seriously hurt. I
almost jumped out of my skin when I heard that you had gotten shot
down. I was afraid you were going to die."
"Riptos
pretty much said the same thing to me. He got to see me wheeled into
the emergency room. I'm probably very lucky to be alive, but luck has
always seemed to be on my side." Rex laughed briefly.
"I
see you've still got your sense of humor. I spend every day worrying
about you. I know you'd never want to quit the navy, but sometimes I
wish you would. It's so dangerous out there."
"Oh,
don't worry. It's not as bad as people say it is." Rex had a
feeling that this would soon change in a big way, but he didn't say
it to Connie. "And I got two medals for my trouble."
"Please
take care of yourself. I don't want you to get hurt again, sweetie."
"Of
course. I didn't get the rank of Lieutenant Commander by being
reckless. I'm feeling pretty tired. Can we talk again tomorrow?"
"Sure.
I love you, Rexy."
"I
love you too. Bye, Connie."
"Goodbye.
Be careful out there." Rex pressed the "off" button
and handed the phone to Riptos before pulling the covers over his
shoulders.
"I
guess we'd better leave then," said Adrian. "I don't want
to disturb your sleep."
"All
right. See you tomorrow."
"Bye,
Rex," said Adrian as he walked out.
Riptos
patted Rex on the head. "Good night, kiddo," said Riptos.
"I hope you can stomach the hospital food. It's pretty nasty."
Rex
chuckled. "I'll try. Good night." He rolled over and closed
his eyes as Riptos left the room. At least he could get some free
time until he was fit for combat again. Perhaps he could even get
away with getting drunk this time. The fuzzy feeling in his head
created by the painkillers the doctors had given him grew stronger
and stronger until he finally fell asleep.
--
Admiral
Townswell smirked as she watched the last of the Mobian fleet leave
61 Cygni, abandoning the planet Titus II to its fate. Over two
million Earth troops were already on the planet, mopping up any
remaining resistance. The blood of over 1.5 million humans had
secured 61 Cygni for the Earth Republic. The Mobians would never
recover from such a decisive blow. Almost 30 of their naval forces
had been neutralized. Five million Mobians were dead, and another
800,000 had been taken prisoner.
Already
the pirates were doing their work across Mobian space. Supply lines
were being disrupted, space traffic had been restricted, and some
particularly bold pirates were even attacking Mobian space colonies.
But the main purpose of hiring the pirates--dispersing Mobian
military forces--was not being accomplished. The Mobians just refused
to take the bait even when it was thrown at their feet. Kryche
Akwarus must have been even cleverer than she realized. It would make
it all the more satisfying to see him hang.
--
Fiz
saw the station commander turn around as she dropped out of the vent
shaft into his office. Hello, she said telepathically before
paralyzing him from head to toe.
The
commander was sprawled on the ground, his face frozen in an
expression of shock. /Why are you so shocked, commander/ she
taunted. /Have you not seen a telepath before. Don't try to call
out. The only way you can communicate is through my telepathic link./
/You
bitch./
/That's
not a nice thing to call a lady./
The
commander's face contortred even more as Fiz caused his pain
receptors to fire telepathically. She could only imagine the screams
he would make if he was not paralyzed.
/What
do you want from me/
/I
want to know the combination to your safe and the security codes to
the station's computers./
/I
won't tell you anything./
/Wrong
answer./ She flooded him with pain again, hearing him cry out in
his mind, even though his vocal cords were paralyzed. She was the
only one who could hear his agony.
/Please!
Stop! Make it stop/
/Then
answer my questions./
/The
security code to my safe is 2-16-38-4./
Fiz
grinned and entered the combination into the safe, opening it. She
removed the papers inside.
/Good
man./
/Who
do you work for/
/Figure
it out. And you still have to tell me the security codes to the
computers. Cough them up now if you want to survive./
As
he told her the security codes, she relayed them telepathically to
Dynamo, who was now cracking the station's computer system,
downloading files into the memory chips implanted in his brain.
/Whoever
the hell you are, you won't get away with this/ said the
commander through the telepathic link.
/Yes
I will. I've faced far more difficult missions than this./
/I've
got it all downloaded, Fiz/ said Dynamo. /We've got
everything we need./
/Thank
you, Dynamo. Now I will take care of the sniveling wretch on the
floor before me./
Fiz
walked over to the stiff but still living body of the commander and
put her hands around his neck, but didn't squeeze yet. She grinned,
showing her fangs. /Now, my friend, you will die./
/You
said you wouldn't kill me if I told you want you wanted to know/
/I
lied. Goodbye./ She pressed two fingers against his topmost
vertebra. The bone split with a sickening wet crack. A further push
severed the spinal cord. Now the nerves controlling his heartbeat and
respiration were destroyed. He would be dead within minutes. She
stood over the doomed man and admired her handiwork before pulling
out her communicator.
"Big
Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood," she spoke into the
communicator. "Elvis has left the building."
"Affirmative,"
said her ship's captain.
Within
seconds whe found herself standing in the ship's transporter room,
flanked by Abbadon and Dynamo. Their mission was complete. They now
had part of the enemy's plan, had discovered the identity of the
"puppet masters" controlling the war, and possibly gathered
information that could be used to stop the war before it was too
late. How ironic it would be for this bloody and pointless war to be
ended by natural born killers such as herself, and equally ironic
that hardly anyone in the Mobian Federation would be aware of their
great debt.
And,
really, she greatly preferred them never knowing.
- 10
- 11
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Chaos Rising