Jasvinder Krishnan

I think I may have made a mistake. 

Wiping the sweat from my brow and taking a swig of distilled water to keep the sweltering heat at bay, I squint down the quiet road from the bus stop that I had based myself out of. A rusting hulk adorned with worn and peeling paint, the bus stop at least provides some respite from the sun beating down on the concrete desert. Situated by the side of a road leading straight to the Citadel, it was only a matter of time before a trade caravan passed by this location on its way deeper into the concrete desert. 

Unfortunately, after more than a day of waiting, not a single soul had made their way down the road I was watching, much less a caravan equipped for a long journey. The Fallen attack on the Citadel must have caused more disruption than I expected. The place is either still locked down or no one wants to take their chances on the roads. That's good since it keeps Don off my back for a few more days, but in the meantime I'm left stranded here. Food and other supplies aren't a problem, because as much as I dislike it, I can always hike back to the train station to replenish my stocks. I'm used to sleeping rough as well and can lay out my bedroll in one of the empty brick husks that line this neighborhood. Not the most comfortable experience, but its preferable to staying at the train station. 

No, my worry is that someone has taken an interest in me. 

"Help!" a loud voice cries out from somewhere within the dusty blocks of crumbling buildings. 

Not a single person has traveled down the main road today and suddenly someone needs help far off the usually traveled path? Color me suspicious to say the least. My better nature urges me to go investigate, but the voice of experience, earned from my years of military service, quickly intervenes, urging caution. 

"HELP!" the cry comes again, more insistent this time. 

No sounds of battle. As far as I know, there's nothing of interest in the direction the cry is coming from. So its probably not scavengers who have run into trouble. And no trader would take the narrow side streets of the concrete desert over the broad and very visible main road. So that means the cry for help is most likely bait to lure me into an ambush. 

Could it be Don? I instinctively tense at this possibility before dismissing it. Don is confident in his own strength to an almost absurd degree. He would not bother with playing such games. If Don was hunting me right now, he would be flying straight down the main road in full bulwark, guns blazing. Yellow Roses would have the advantage of both numbers and power over me. There would be no need to lure me into an ambush. 

So, my unseen admirers are more likely than not bandits. Well, there's one way to find out for sure. I step out from the cover of the bus stop and stand right in the center of the empty road. With an exaggerated flourish I activate my deployment ring and with a surge of divine might, my bulwark manifests enclosing my body completely. I turn to face the direction the cries were coming from and wait expectantly. 

Nothing. Complete silence has fallen over the concrete desert. 

Bandits then. They must have concluded that their chances against an Auxilia were poor. I dismiss my bulwark and walk back to the bus stop to retrieve my rucksack. Now that I have attracted someone's attention, hanging out around here would be tempting fate. The bandits might be back later in numbers I can't deal with. They might even decide to attack me while I sleep. I need to find a new camping location that provides easy access to the main road before nightfall. 

I begin walking down the main road, knowing full well that I'm drifting further and further away from the train station. There's nothing to be done about it though. I'll just need to watch the supply situation carefully. If things really look bad, I can use my bulwark to fly back to the train station to resupply. Though that's really a last resort. I want to conserve divine energy as much as possible. There's no telling when I'll be able to safely recharge my deployment ring. 

"HELP! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE! PLEASE HELP!"

I ignore the bandit's cries like wind passing my ear and begin checking out the buildings by the road. Most of them are in a bad state of repair, but there a few multistory shop lots that look fairly intact. Walls and roof are still standing, and the upper levels should provide some protection from wandering animals. Though I really should get further away from the bandits before choosing my new camping spot. 

Then the harsh crack of gunfire snaps me out of my thoughts. 

I stop in my tracks and immediately throw myself to the ground, my bulwark flaring into existence once more, causing the straps of my rucksack to snap. As the rucksack slips off my armored back, I realize I'm not the one being fired at. My bulwark's sensors come to life and begin probing the area for threats, before returning with that dreaded notification. 

'WARNING. FALLEN PRESENCE DETECTED.'

The bulwark's computer accepts the sensor data and begins drawing up a rough tactical map on the HUD for my use, with the approximate location of the Fallen highlighted. As I get back up to my feet, a long burst of gunfire rattles in the distance, punctuated the infernal chittering noise that has become the Fallen's signature. I swallow hard at the angry red blob that shows up on the tactical map. My bulwark doesn't have the sensor capability to accurately determine how many Fallen are present, but its at the very least a small pack of the monsters. 

Nothing that should trouble a Stormer-Kai pilot. 

But that's only if the Fallen pack is entirely comprised of their basic infantry. Anything more than that and things would get dicey for me. 

Should I respond? Or should I just keep going my way? I owe these strangers nothing after all. Then I remember that fateful night with Don in the razed beast folk village. The blood, the killing, my attempt at stopping him. 

And most painfully of all, my failure. 

Without a second thought, I engage my bulwark's jets and blast off in the direction of the battle. I may not owe these people anything, but I owed it to myself to make things right.

The landscape beneath me disappears in a blur as the Stormer-Kai tears through the air on a mission, carrying me steadily closer to the battle. I keep careful track of the tactical map, as the red blob begins to move eastward from its original position. The chase is on then. My unseen admirers must be in full flight by now and the Fallen intend to run them into the ground. I need to hurry. 

A quick course correction puts me back on track and by now I can see the muzzle flashes illuminating the group that I intend to rescue. A bedraggled group of wolf beast folk dressed in dirty clothes and armed to the teeth with a collection of mismatched weaponry. Most of the beast folk carry spears and the occasional machete, but a few of them wield guns, mainly assault rifles that look like Militia surplus. A pair of the wolf people carry what looks like a cast iron cannon fitted with a trigger and pistol grip. There's none of the digging or climbing gear that is associated with scavengers from the beast folk villages. 

So my initial guess was correct then. This is a bandit gang which was scouting the area for prey until they themselves became prey for the Fallen. And from the quality of the bandits' equipment, the Fallen would have an easy time dealing with them. Fallen are incredibly hardy against weapons that have not been infused with divine energy, and these bandits can't deliver the weight of fire needed to bring their enemies down. 

Loping, manlike figures begin to emerge from the maze of streets in pursuit of the bandits. The gangly shapes of the Fallen charge confidently at their targets who fire their rifles wildly in response. But the Fallen absorb the incoming bullets with their gelatinous bodies without breaking their stride.  The lead Fallen raises one of his arms and lashes out like an octopus at one of the bandits, the elastic limb extending grotesquely. The bandit screams in impotent fear just before he is torn asunder by the Fallen's claws. 

The odd looking cannon is leveled at the advancing Fallen pack, with one of the handlers bracing the weapon on his shoulder while the other grabs the pistol grip and stares down a set of crude sights. The trigger is pulled and the cannon roars, belching smoke and fire. A single round shot is propelled from the barrel and smacks squarely into one of the Fallen infantry. There's a flash of light as the Fallen's body disintegrates on impact and the cannonball slams into the wall of a nearby building, blasting apart ancient masonry. 

So the beast folk do have divinely empowered weapons. But that cannon of theirs is absolutely impractical against a fast moving enemy like Fallen infantry. As if to drive the point home, one of the Fallen compresses its legs like springs and performs a flying leap at the cannon's crew. The cannon's gunner stares in shock at the sight, as he attempts to heft the weapon back on to his shoulder for transport. In a panic, he throws the weapon aside, knocking his partner off balance as he makes a break for safety by himself. 

But its too late. The descending Fallen swings its arm like a scythe, beheading the gunner at the neck. The other half of the cannon's crew falls on to his butt as the Fallen towers over him, babbling incoherently as he begs for mercy. 

And mercy is here. 

I dive like a striking hawk, my bulwark's sword already summoned into my hand. Pulling up at the last minute, I begin cutting a swathe through the Fallen pack, jets blazing as I cruise just above the ground. The Fallen, completely taken by surprise by my sudden appearance, are unable to defend themselves as my sword slashes unrelentingly at them. The entire pack pulls back to reform their line, chittering in fury at their sport being interrupted, while the bandits stare at me with dumbfounded looks. 

"You actually came." a wolf woman murmurs, hands tightly gripping her rifle.  

I survey the snarling Fallen pack before me. Good, all basic infantry. Must have been a splinter of the original siege force sent against the Citadel. The pack starts to cautiously close the distance once more, the original exuberance gone now that they are facing prey that can fight back. 

"You can't outrun Fallen on foot." I tersely order, "Take shelter in one of the buildings and support me as best as you are able."

The bandit leader accepts my command without hesitation and leads her fellows into one of the nearby buildings, a solid multistory cinder block construction. Its refreshing to finally have a subordinate who obeys without asking annoying questions, as short lived as it may be. I hear the breaking of glass and notice the bandits taking position by the windows of the building's second floor, gun muzzles and spear tips hesitantly poking out at the ready. 

"Set up your cannon up there." I grunt, looking at the cannon's crewman who is still seated on his rear end, covered in ichor from the Fallen I had killed to save him. A spreading liquid stain darkens the ground around him. 

"Uh, yes. Yes!" the wolf man hefts up the cannon on his shoulder with a startled cry and picks up a discarded bag filled with paper cartridges from the ground. Without any further ado he rushes into the building, the thews of his arms straining with effort. 

I point my sword at the Fallen, declaring my intention to defend these beast folk. The chittering of the Fallen rises in intensity, as if they're laughing at me. From the shadows emerge more members of the pack, stalking forward with barely concealed eagerness.The Fallen are here in greater numbers than I expected. Its too late to regret anything though. I've made my choice. 

I'm never going to leave anyone behind again.