The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Seventy-Five: Marauders

"Assume anyone reaving the surface of an abandoned world is capable of anything."

—General Sigom Brackitt of the Alliance of Worlds

An hour passed before either of them spoke. Xyrthe broke the silence.

"Hey, rook."

"Hm?" Zaina replied, not bothering to turn toward her mentor.

"Hey—Zaina, stop."

It wasn't often that Xyrthe used Zaina's real name. When she did, it was serious. Zaina froze in place, her heart starting to speed up. "What's going on?"

"We might have a situation on our hands," Xyrthe said. "Remember those nine people randomly out and about in the desert?"

"They found us?"

Xyrthe nodded. "It's possible—they're closing fast in our general direction. Looks like they have a transport of their own."

Heart fluttering, a cold flush of panic was coursing through Zaina's system. "Wh—what are we going to do?"

Xyrthe rubbed her chin. "Well, we might not have to do anything. Their trajectory's a little off from us. They might be headed to the wreck of our desert rider."

"Well, if that's true—"

A grin crossed Xyrthe's face. "Then we might get the jump on these fuckers."

Zaina's gaze fell to the sand below, her mind twisting in knots of worry and fear. Beads of sweat dripped down her face as her hand balled up into a fist, her heart racing. Then, something clapped her shoulder, snapping her out of it—Xyrthe.

"Worried about your first fight as a real lancer?"

Not wanting to show her concern, Zaina forced herself to smile and said, "Oh, so you think I'm a real lancer, then?"

Xyrthe chuckled. "You've certainly got the look down. Now comes the hard part. I'll bet the two of us could kill all nine of those bastards, but only if you're completely ready to do whatever it takes. Understand? You have to be committed."

Zaina nodded, averting her gaze. "I understand. Yes. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Xyrthe asked. "Don't say you're ready if you aren't. If you hesitate, you'll get both of us killed. You have to have my back on this. If you're not ready, I can come up with another plan—"

"I'm ready."

"Stand up straight, then," Xyrthe said. "Let's get back to the wreck. Hopefully we make it there before them or while they're still investigating it. I'll tell you the plan on the way."

"What if they're tracking us, and not the rider?" Zaina asked.

With a shrug, Xyrthe said, "Then we probably die."

Then, she turned and doubled back toward the wrecked desert rider. A frustrated sigh escaped Zaina's lips as her eyes darted over every horizon of the shifting sands, hyper-aware to any potential threats.

Again they walked in silence, but the still quiet that settled over them this time was different; worry oppressively weighed on Zaina's mind, fearing her first taste of true combat as a lancer. She'd survived Demelia, sure, even 'fought' the Eldritch—got lucky, more like; and against Ovela Midor—the heretic spy in the Order of Riiva—she got pretty lucky, too, only losing an arm. Amid the chaos of a gunfight, there was no telling what could happen—and they were bringing swords.

After a while Xyrthe stopped and crouched; Zaina followed suit. Xyrthe pulled the vis-screen on her wrist up.

"Less than a mile out," she said in a low voice. Chimara beeped and whispered something, and then Xyrthe continued, "Thank you, Chimara. They're already at the wreck. Stay low."