Trial 017 - 2019 Wattys Sci-Fi Winner

Chapter 7 - Cyrus

Following the pipes was easy. They formed nearly a straight line, occasionally branching out here and there according to the hallways. Although there was no outward indication, Cyrus could feel himself getting closer and closer to the center. To the control room.

"Urvosh!" a guttural voice shouted.

Cyrus glanced back, noting three startled Krakoshans emerging from a hallway behind him.

"Hey!" he called back.

Raising his plasma rifle, he fired a short burst of projectiles at the soldiers, blasting the nearest soldier into a bloody mess.

"Vanatu!" the Krakoshans cried, raising their own rifles.

"Damn lizards," Cyrus muttered, throwing himself into a nearby hallway. The longer he delayed, the more time the Krakoshans would have to evacuate the other kids. Sticking his head out, he popped his rifle around the corner to pump a few shots at Krakoshans. At the same time, the two surviving soldiers stuck their own rifles out and fired back.

Cyrus's shots caught one of the Krakoshans in the leg, spraying blue blood across the walls. Ducking back behind the corner, Cyrus winced as plasma rounds shuddered into the wall he leaned against, spraying chips of metal everywhere.

"Argh," Cyrus groaned.

Dropping to his belly, he raised his rifle around the corner and fired a few rounds at the last Krakoshan. The rounds splattered into the wall, missing the Krakoshan by a hair.

"Screw this," Cyrus snapped.

Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he dashed out around the corner, charging the last soldier head on. The soldier yelped in surprise, quickly bringing his rifle around to shoot him down, but he was too slow. Cyrus's fist punched clean through the corner of the wall, smashing into the Krakoshan from behind. The soldier's body flew into the opposite side of the hallway, crumpling into a heap of moaning agony.

Extracting his arm from the metal wall, Cyrus noted some of the sharper metal scraps had torn into his skin. Out of all his abilities, his durability was the least trained, but Cyrus had had a significant amount of experience ignoring pain. Still, he was thankful when his regeneration kicked in, patching up the tears in his arm.

"Urvosh!"

More Krakoshans had come out, further down the hallway. They must have been attracted to the shooting.

"Damn!" Cyrus spat, turning around to run.

The reptilian soldiers howled and sprinted after him, their long, powerful legs covering the ground easily. Cyrus glanced back, pouring on more speed as he tried to outrun the Krakoshans.

Suddenly, he stopped, whirling around to point both his rifle and backup pistol at the pursuing Krakoshans.

"Surprise," he said, grinning.

The soldiers slammed their feet to the ground, backpedalling furiously to get out of the way, but Cyrus had already begun shooting. Screams of pain drenched the hallway as his shots took out the squad from the knees down. Moments later, every member of the squad was on the ground, hands over their riddled legs and soaked in blue fluids.

"Ugh," Cyrus moaned, backing away from the bloody mess.

Glancing down at his guns, he noted with some disappointment that they were both empty. The only other guns in the hall within reach were soaked in blood, and the other rifles from the trio he took out earlier were too far down.

Cyrus grunted, dropping his guns and turning around. In all the confusion, he had forgotten to follow the pipes. He started to backtrack, but then stopped, eyeing the pipes along the ceiling. Just a few meters away from him, the pipes all turned in a sharp angle into a room closed off with a heavy door. Up ahead, more pipes came from the other direction, feeding into the same room. This was it.