Tales from the Drift: Old Lessons, Hard Futures

Chapter 3 - Into the Graveyard

PLANET GAAMA-HELIKE // CITY OF TRISKALIA // MISSION TIME +24:19:38

Miraj broke away from the squad at a slow jog. She bounded across the wall with the preternatural grace common to her species. Dropping behind another pile of rubble some distance away, she signaled the squad forward.

The dragoons followed the gentle curve of the perimeter wall. No one spoke. The eeriness of the urban graveyard dampening even Cort's exuberance.

The mission timer ticked on.

Miraj signaled the squad to another halt even as she continued forward. In silence, she slipped out of sight behind the ruined infrastructure of a building that had collapsed onto the wall.

With two downward sweeping motions of his left arm, Okoda signaled the rest of the squad to duck down. They were in the open. Exposed. The wreckage on the wall offering little in the way of cover.

But all was quiet.

Sensors sweeps continued to show null.

Okoda expected that would all change once they were forced to leave the perimeter wall and enter the city district proper. What was waiting for them in there? It was pointless to speculate, but he found it difficult not to. There were simply too many unknowns when it came to the skath.

Every hundred cycles the lizards went to war with the galaxy, sweeping across the drift like a pestilence. Their goals were simple: to kill and to die and to build graveyards.

Each war was conducted differently from the previous one. Its rhythm and sway governed by a new generation of battle masters and architects, their many fleets operating independently and frequently in radically different ways. Intelligence reports on tactics and strategy had been reduced to little more than history lessons; offering obsolete insights and mismatched data.

Miraj emerged and signaled the squad forward.

"Report?" asked Okoda as he ducked under a beam.

"The next breach toppled the wall."

"Time to dismount."

"That's not all," said Miraj.

"Skath?"

"Not exactly. See for yourself." Miraj turned away from Okoda and led him through the remains of the building.

Stepping out on the other side Okoda saw the breach. It was large enough for skath armor to roll through two at a time. Looked like they had, too.

Miraj pointed to the center. She didn't need to. Another skath monument, far more haunting than any of the others Okoda had so far seen, demanded to be witnessed. Comprised of the corpses of soldiers from the Triskalia City Militia, their bodies piled atop one another, with heads turned upward and eyes and mouths gaped open. They'd been petrified en masse in smoky alabaster and infused with the same green light as the mausoleums.

A single plinth erupted from the apex of the mound; its otherwise smooth surface textured by deep etchings of vivid green. Vapor spilled from the carvings, just as it did from the eyes and mouths of the petrified bodies.

"Ma always said to leave a good-looking corpse behind..." muttered Cort.

"I don't think that's what she had in mind," chided Irsa.

"Miraj. Any intel on the vapor?" asked Okoda.

"Harmless, but deep scans to check for long term effects have so far been mostly inconclusive."

"Mostly inconclusive?" asked Cort.

"You can always hold your breath, Cort. I know I won't mind," said Irsa.