Sigma/Star

Chapter 135: Duel of Ideals

The first sword pierced through the head of the Bahari. It was swiftly followed by a second blade, striking clean through the monster's heart. The creature shuddered, screeching into the air with a final death wail before collapsing forward onto Porter's arm. There was only a moment of hesitation from the pilot, a second of identifying the next foe before he was gone again.

The blur that was the White Storm dashed across the battlefield, weaving in between Goliaths en route to another stray Bahari. The battlesuit brushed past it, slicing the creature in two in one quick motion. And then it was gone again.

"Report, soldier." Porter listened to the static coming in over his communication network. They were trying to reach out to him, address him and figure out who he was and what he was doing there. There had already been a cluster of messages transmitting back and forth between the ground and the air, as the many generals reporting were trying to identify Porter. His Goliath was clearly of Enian design, and so Artisans weren't discussing who he was. The only confusion lay among the Enians who noted there was no emblem on Porter's warmachine, and no majors could claim Porter was a part of their own squad.

It wouldn't take long, though. They would come after him soon enough, and he was always watching around him for which Goliath would become his next enemy, instead of the Bahari he was slicing through. There was no end to the creatures. The swarms of them were bursting up from underground, in numbers dwarfing what Porter had seen up north. Thousands of tiny Jahari were flooding up out of the Breach, scrambling to slaughter the human armies beneath the feet of the Goliaths. Each of them was some sort of mutant form of a person, their biology altered in the strangest ways to provide them with a variety of advantages, or at least what they considered advantages.

For as distorted as the Jahari looked, they never acted like it, always moving past each other with ease and coordination. Their scattered swarms of numbers never bumped into each other, never improperly crossed paths, and were always organized, even though they appeared to be a mass of chaos and confusion and bodies from the outside. Porter had to play a patient game with them; charging in recklessly to try and chop through them was the trap they were setting, and it was the reason Chase wasn't beside Porter at this moment.

Another Bahari leaped out at the teen, massive claws extending out in front of it as it sought out Porter in the cockpit. A concussive blow struck the side of its head, a collection of munitions blasting straight through its hybrid skin-machine skull, piercing through the other side in a gore-filled spurt. The creature's body twisted with the impact, sending it spinning sideways, letting Porter easily dodge its attack.

"As I said, I need a report, soldier." The major stepped forwards from Porter's peripheral vision, standing over the body of the defeated beast. The pilot began to step backwards slightly, slowly searching for an out in the situation. At least the shotgun hadn't been fired at him, and he had been spared a surprise attack, but he didn't feel like going toe-to-toe with a theoretical ally if he didn't have to.

"You think I won't recognize you? Think I won't know who you are?" The gun swung forwards in the hand of the major, his crest of honour emblazoned across the barrels. His black Goliath with red trim and finishes appeared as a reaper in front of Porter, a scythe in the form of a shotgun hung around the youth's neck now. Recognition was the last thing the young man needed.

There was contemplation in the cockpit of the White Storm. To speak and answer the questions, to try and talk his way out of it, might cause the major to recognize the voice and verify Porter was who he thought he was. But to just run away would probably result in a chase, and while Porter could certainly outrun this soldier, and just about any other, he didn't want to bring even more attention to himself.