Victernus - Chapter 12
A few hours after they began their journey, the dark clouds rolled overhead and replaced the usual white. Thunder and lightning crashed through Namara's senses as he bounded forward, causing him to mind the metal sections of the tube so as to keep from getting electrocuted. The drone stayed several feet ahead of him, making sure that he did not turn and run the other way or escape through one of the hatches on the ground. Every mile or so, they would pass one that led out of the tube and down a bulky, blue-colored metal support beam. They remained unharmed throughout their years. Fresh raindrops pelted the transparent layer. Namara slowed himself to take a break and catch his breath. The large trees that were spread out across the field below waved fiercely in the wind. The white glow from the clouds faded and he was left in darkness. Feeling energized, he called out, "How much farther, Hex?" Hex replied, "1256.3 miles remaining." He nodded and sat down, sliding his back across the curved, smooth glass. "I guess it'll take a few days... I think I'll rest here for a bit." The drone hovered in front of him and readied its weapon, "There is no time for rest." Namara stared up at it. "Surely you must know that I am not a machine? I cannot go on forever." A red glow appeared inside the gun as it charged up. "There is no time for rest." He shook his head, "I'll be able to go much faster if I rest for a while." Hex fired a warning shot intended to go right past Namara's head, but the pulse shot back into the gun and out through the other side. It shot a hole into the side of the tube. A crack branched up from it, stopping at the top while allowing water and wind to come through. Meanwhile, Hex fell to the ground, part of its body burnt out. It clanked down on the metal section. Golden-red sparks flew out and landed harmlessly beside it. Namara, who had shielded his face from the shot, lowered his arms and saw Hex grounded and helpless. He came forward and grimaced, picking it up to assess the damage. It was then that a female voice much different from Hex's emerged, "Please... don't kill me." He furled his brow, "I'm not going to
do that." The drone repeated itself, sparks still flying out of its side, "P...lease... don't kill... me." Namara sighed and put the damaged drone back on the ground. Strange... He walked forward, away from Hex. Hex stuttered even more, but its normal voice had returned, "S....eeeee...lf destr...uuuuu...ct initi..aaa..ted..." Widening his eyes, Namara looked back briefly and saw a red glow building up within Hex. Oh crap! He launched forward, running away as fast as he could. A rough boom sounded behind him a few seconds later, sending a shockwave through the tube. Namara felt himself get pushed forward through the air. When he landed, he slid across the glass. A forceful wind from behind him continued to push, keeping his body in motion. Suddenly amused, Namara lied backwards and rested his hands behind his head. If I could do this for the rest of the trip, I'd be fine with that. He sensed a hum coming from below. More wind funneled into the tube and he was lifted up into the air. Whoa! He spun around and flipped over, trying to get ahold of something. When he was in the center, the wind pushed him along even faster than before. Frightened, Namara thought, I thought this thing was broken! Each metal support that held up the tube seemed to zoom by faster and faster. It was not long before his body stabilized and he was facing forwards. Feeling strangely comfortable, he relaxed and closed his eyes. Wow. Whatever you did, Hex... Thanks. Opening his eyes again, he glanced to the right and gazed out of the tube. The storm clouds were left behind and the afternoon sun shone through. Hills, trees, and destroyed cities that were overrun by plants shot past his view. It was sobering experience, seeing the crumbled dreams of billions. It was as if he was falling through time. As he floated on, a chill went down his spine. To his right, a small black spacecraft descended and leveled out with the tube, floating beside Namara's position. A hole with a white light inside it opened up on the side. When a green light emerged and enveloped him, he shielded his face with his arm. Looking ahead, he saw the upcoming sections of the tube and noticed that there was an open part up ahead. Panels of glass jutted out from it, and just beyond was the downed pressure train. Wow... if that thing was moving, it's a miracle it wasn't
destroyed! But... He shot closer and realized that it wasn't low enough for him to miss. Oh cr- His thoughts were cut short. The wind changed his course, and a split second later he was hurled directly towards the splintered glass. The space ship veered off to the side while Namara spun out of control. The very essence of time seemed to slow. Most of his body missed the glass, but he watched over his shoulder in sheer horror as his left hand and foot were sliced clean off. The blood had not yet sprung, but the pain shot in like lightning. Severed from his time-slowed memory, he realized that he was careening through the air at an intense speed. The ground approached fast and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Blood flowed out of his limbs unhindered, the drops falling to the ground behind him. He closed his eyes and whimpered, "I'm sorry..." Before he hit the ground, Namara felt something around his body again. He opened his eyes to see the same green light shining down on him from above. His body was lifted back up into the air while the space ship closed in around him. Its tractor beam transported him close to the hull before teleporting him inside. When he felt the cold floor on his back, his senses returned to him fully. He yelled out in pain and held his left arm with the other hand. After propping himself up to see it, a haze fell over him and his senses deteriorated again. Blood oozed out onto his chest and the floor. The vibrations of someone's footsteps neared. Glancing upward, he saw a very well-built, tall man standing over him. Their hair was crimson and their eyes glowed purple. Their clothing was black and fitted for a true warrior, decorated by protective vests and holsters filled with all kinds of guns and knives. The man unsheathed one of the katanas fitted to his back and then held it with both hands. Namara felt his focus begin to drift again. As he lied back to the ground helplessly and splayed out his limbs, the man standing above him lifted up the sword. Namara's consciousness drifted out, and when his rescuer saw that he had closed his eyes, they tightened their grip on the sword and brought it down.