Emerald held his service-pistol in one hand, and a fist in the other as he crouched behind a small fallen wall of steel.
The woman had started to make her way towards the now-shattered and dark spire.
Her walk was slow, tired, and somehow sad.
He trailed her, thinking twice about whether or not to board the ship that sat so snugly atop it's fallen building. However he decided against it, instead following her towards the towering purple mass.
Slowly toe in toe, he followed her, approaching the spire. Until through the mess of rubble and steel, he made out a crater.
A vast stretching dip into the ground. Huge and deep, with the great spire emerging from the very center of it's massive two kilometer diameter.
He had seen it as he fell, yet had not thought about it until now.
Did she seek something in that crater?
He watched as she approached, her hands holding what looked like a rifle. Her steps were slow, and deliberate, as if she did not want to see what was within the crater.
Finally, she reached the rim. And stood on the rough stone that encircled the vast depression, she stopped. Frozen in place she stood, the only movement being the slow flitter of her hair in the breezing air.
Her hands tightened, her stance straightened. Some strength resurfaced. In an instant, she forced herself over the edge with a jump, dropping out of sight.
Emerald broke from his cover, and sprinted - boots crunching rubble and loose dirt - towards the rim of the crater. She was after something, and he would not let this Last Stand Navy officer get her hands on it.
He slowed as he approached the rim itself, and with slow inching steps, moved his boots closer to the great depression. His feet going over small beams of stray metal, slowly pressing down on the rough rubble that lay around him. His muscles with pained strenuous fibers, pulled his form towards the edge.
His eyes, slowly saw what she had seen.
In the midst of the great crater, in the far distance of it's depth, sat a man.
A man, perched atop the wrecked remains of a vast machine. A huge mechanised walker of ancient and delicate design, torn to pieces.
Around it, huge clumps of purple mass lay silent. Scattered across the crater in irregular heaps.
The silence, deafening.
Her footsteps interrupted the silence, as her boots crunched earth. He forced himself to the edge, and looked over to see her slowly making her way towards the distant figure.
He knelt down, and watched in silent terror. His eyes wide, fingers shaking.
With a sharp grab his right hand gripped his left, holding the shaking in check.
The distant figure did not move, but merely sat.
Sweeping across the crater, Emerald's eyes scanned. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of soft untarnished glass. His head snapped right, and fixed on the point.
A man, no smaller than an ant at this distance, was perched at the other side of the crater. His colours were muted, he could make nothing out except for a long maroon pole that rested against a tumbled building behind him.
He had no doubt been seen by this man already. Emerald had not anticipated other observers and had approached in the open.
Yet, in some small hope Emerald lowered himself to the ground, flush with the other rubble that littered the rim of the crater.
There he lay. Watching.
Revanna approached the old machine that lay several hundred meters in front of her like a downed mammoth. Her feet so heavy, the sluggish approach granted her a moment, just a single moment, to think.
YOU ARE READING
World In Turmoil
Science FictionAmongst the empires of the galaxy. Between the factions and the territories. On a rustic world left to itself. A young man had heros once... They were a force sworn to protect. They were a navy of saviours. In a time of need. ...
