World In Turmoil

43: Run, Fly and Stand

Rennand held himself firm in the bowels of the Ol.Jacks mechanised walker as it threw itself over the vast cultivation lands on two sprinting legs. Each leap jolting him up and down in the thick metal belly of this machine.

The blackened ash of the fields kicked up in the morning wind, covering the mech in a dark soot, and seeping through the air filtration, only intensifying Ren's already active cough. The machine bound past the final edge of the Cultivation Lands, and planted onto the main road that encircled what was Gersanto.

The highway was bare, with the odd scorched vehicle - that Ren did not dare to investigate. Yet, his eyes were drawn to the smoldering wrecks.

Where was his family?

Were they safe?...

His eyes looked up, through the roof of the mech.
"Please... could they just be safe..."

His eyes turned down again, and fixed on the blue and red starship. Resting, with all serenity atop that distant crumbled building, directly in the path of one of the main collector roads that lead right from where he stood, deep into the distance of the crumbled city. The scorched trees that lined the road barely obstructing his view of the desolation, as the mech crunched forwards.

Craters, where hulking meter wide galzion projectiles had struck the earth were scattered across the city, And the few buildings that did stand, seemed to have been... almost dissolved?

"..isn't that surreal..."

The mech ground forwards. The far off spire - still shedding small shards of purple matter, as it crumbled in the morning dawn - rapidly nearing him.

His mind thought through the craft. What faction made it? The odd blue and red combination brought doubt of it being Last Stand Navy, or Galaxy Center... his father had never really spoken about the make of the ship, nor what it really looked like... perhaps...?

But... why land so far away?...

Was it Last Stand?
Was it LAST STAND?!?

The Mech staggered to a halt. Ren was suddenly more lucid than he had been in the last hours of walking. He had allowed himself to fall into a trance of hopeless wishing... 

But, he had to go to it. He had no hope of making it anywhere else on foot, and... if the Protectorate were in on the whole thing... there was no guessing what could happen.

The ship. He had to go to the ship regardless.

...if there were people... hell... he did not want to think about it. A single shot of galzion would penetrate through the shell of the OL.JACKS and kill him in one breath.

Maybe... maybe he could appeal to their humanity?... if there was any left...

His scarred leg bit into him, and his head thumped.

 "Stop thinking Ren... go. You have to go."

= = =

Emerald pulled the craft's tight hatch open, and clambered in. The glow of the soft orange lights reminding him of his home... his wife was safe, but for how long?

A pang of selfishness took his thoughts, he could take this ship and escape with her. Leave this all behind. Flee. It was not impossible, and if this ship was VMP capable...

No. He would not abandon his people.

Oh... but... he could live. Live. Be away from here. Be safe.

What would Yellow Leader say?... it hardly mattered. He would need to take this ship back to the Protectorate Airbase anyway. He needed to inform the Commander, and perhaps grab the approaching convoy for assistance.