The Starlight Lancer

Chapter 110: The Burning

"It is not our duty to render judgment on their souls, only to send them to he who will."

—Former High Priest of Byzon and leader of the militant Steel Faith, Eliam Aliferega, before the Desitoom Massacre

The forest trees were a blur—Zaina wasn't sure she'd ever run so fast in her life. It took all her concentration to dodge and weave her way toward the chaos. Geramad and Bloqeli were similar blurs, fading in and out of sight.

"We should split up," Geramad called out. "Better chance of finding someone."

"Okay," Bloqeli said, then split off at an angle. Geramad kept going straight, but pointed for Zaina to go the opposite way of Bloqeli.

Zaina wasn't sure if it was the best idea, but decided to follow the order. They had to think about the bigger picture—getting every member of the patrol group who was still alive back to aid the dig-site's defense was critical. Plus, Geramad had directed her to run in the direction she was pretty sure her ship landed—if she could get her hex-shield and her utility belt, she'd feel much better about her chances of surviving. Plus, she wasn't sure if Gizmo would survive a forest fire inside a ship—better safe than sorry, she figured.

The thought struck her—would Sivanya really still care that Zaina was a lancer, even now? If they were fighting side-by-side to save the enclave, what did it matter whether Zaina was a lancer or not, or had been lying—and lying for what, exactly? Because she wanted to help save their lives, to put an end to the violence? In a time like this, with so much on the line, would it still matter to Sivanya?

Zaina didn't know, and part of her didn't care anymore. The Sivanya Enclave needed a lancer whether their leader liked it or not. Plus, whatever peace Zaina wanted to achieve through infiltration was now null and void—now she had to think about how the hell she was going to survive, too.

In the distance the sound and echoes of constant gunfire and heavy artillery rang into the sky, which was thick with smoke. The fire was spreading fast.

I have to hurry.

Luck was on Zaina's side for once—she crested a hill and laid eyes on the crash-landed ship she arrived in. There wasn't much time, though—about two hundred feet away was a sea of flames, a crimson wave devouring the sky and trees alike, and spitting out plumes of smoke with only ash left in its wake. It was a long line, like a blazing horizon.

Zaina sprinted and made it to the ship before the fire, but it had closed half the distance. In a hurry, she opened the door and frantically looked for her armor and equipment.

"Gizmo, wake up!"

Gizmo chirped and floated into the air. "Yes, Miss Zaina?"

She threw her TAC-suit on and started frantically putting on pieces of armor. "Get above the treeline and stay there until the fire's out, hear me?"

"Yes, Miss—"

"NOW!"

Gizmo beeped affirmatively and did as he was told. Zaina got her mask on, now fully dressed in her lancer gear, and jumped outside the ship. The fire was feet away—she activated her hex-shield and knelt.

The fire passed around her shield, leaving her unburnt. That wasn't her concern, though—the temperature was still rising fast. She activated the cooling systems on her suit and prayed they worked—a wave of relief rushed over her, then slowly faded as the unceasing heat returned little by little. The last thing she wanted was to get cooked in her armor.

Of course, the thought struck Zaina that she rarely got what she wanted.

It's too fucking hot.