VulpineWarrior-91

3rd NOVEMBER 7082, CITY OF SENNETT, RILO KILEY The sky in the city of Sennett was bright blue, not a cloud in the sky, and the air was cool and clear above the Mass Metro.   Not that Sorcha could enjoy a second of it as she was smushed to insensibility in a crowd of what looked, from her harried viewpoint, to be a crowd of frilly lampshades. The dresses worn by Riloan women made moving about next to impossible in even moderately confined spaces and, in spaces any smaller than that, one was destined to have one’s muzzle buried in a puffy, voluminous sleeve or nearly trip over a skirt or fifty.   Sorcha shuffled her way onto the waiting metro car, being rushed aboard by a tidal wave of material coming in from behind and trying to keep hold of her travel rucksack. She crashed into a pretty young Shiba Inu who skirled something indignant – Sorcha couldn’t make it out over the noise – and tried to shove her off, entangling Sorcha in the massive ribbon around her waist. Sorcha stumbled and

Sorcha opened her eyes. Her head felt like it had been smacked against concrete a good number of times, and her mind was a puddle of sludge. She blinked and sat up, noticing that she was lying in bed. The chemical odours tickling her sensitive nose established that she was in a medbay.   I’m back on the FSV.   Sorcha moaned and looked around. It was deserted in here, and the lights were low. It was also eerily silent, something that wasn’t normal for a working ship. What made Sorcha forget all of that, however, was the figure at the foot of the bed. It was tall, and wore flowing robes. A fluffy tail draped itself over the covers.   Sorcha couldn’t help but smile. “Amaterasu?”   The goddess’s lupine head turned to regard her, and Sorcha’s joy evaporated. Amaterasu’s eyes were solid black and her maw stretched wide open, showing needle-like teeth.   Sorcha howled. “No!” Sorcha cried as she sat bolt upright in bed, nearly hyperventilating.   “It’s okay, it’s okay!” a female voice cut in,

Sorcha whined. Flashes of the wheat field on Summerkin kept stuttering in her mind each time she looked at Solga’s grinning face. She could feel his void-like eyes on her, sending needles of cold through her flesh. As fear rooted her to the deck, she wondered, her scientific curiosity overriding everything for a second, if Nllahak could transmit waves of energy or release pheromones to engender such a reaction.   Whatever he’s doing, it’s working, she thought.   Lina still bawled and struggled, trying to break free of Lkooba’s grip. Across the hangar, a large pile of equipment had been deposited; in the mound, Sorcha recognized several machines from the FSV, particularly the mobile tool carrier Naoko had been working on. Nllahak were grouped around the equipment, either cutting it to pieces with or smashing it with their knife-guns. Laboratory devices, tools, data units – the Nllahak were destroying the project.   Her project.   As the Nllahak around the pile yipped and howled

Sorcha yelped and tried to rush between the two Nllahak nearest the exit, but an enormous paw smacked into her chest, sending her back against the wall. She wheezed, trying to force air into her battered lungs, but before she could even draw breath that same paw grabbed her shirt collar and hoisted her off the deck. She thrashed and growled, trying futilely to shake herself loose.   The Nllahak warrior growled back, showing its serrated fangs. “See how Amaterasu’s champion writhes like a stuck swine,” it gargled metallically.   Sorcha panicked, her paws spasming – and the next second she was falling to the deck as a plosive squirt of noise momentarily deafened her. She squeaked indignantly as she landed, looking up to make sense of the situation.   The Nllahak was staggering backwards and making strange jangling noises, paws going to its muzzle. Its mouth was open, and a silvery shaft of steel was jutting from between its jaws, and it continued to howl as it tried to wrench the object

It seemed to run in slo-mo. Sorcha could only gape as the Nllahak warriors raised their weapons – massive, knife-like things that looked as if they would be well-suited for close-quarters goring – and powered them up. The tips of the weapons opened like beaks, and a terrible glow surged forth from inside. The glow became glare, and then a blinding fury, and beams came hammering out, clawing for their target and preparing to rip the life from her.   Sorcha’s world abruptly reverted to normal speed as she felt something grab her from behind and shove her sideways. She sprawled to the deck as the white-hot pulse flew over her head and impacted where it had been a nanosecond earlier. She was afforded a glimpse of seared, melting steel before it was blocked from her sight by the closing of a door. A wave of heat hit her in the muzzle. Then silence.   Okay. I’m okay.   Sorcha gasped and looked up into the grey-and-white face of Minerva Lux. She was panting in the heat from the blast. “You

Amaterasu? Sorcha whimpered and retreated a few steps as two more of the aliens clambered out of the engineering shaft. One was clearly female, the other male like the first, and they took up positions behind the speaker, whom Sorcha took to be their leader – of this lot at least. Bizarrely, the female looked happy to see Sorcha; she yipped excitedly and pointed in the vague direction of Sorcha’s pendant. “So it is true,” she cried, her voice harshly modulated as if being squeezed to fit into Core language. “She has returned!”   The second male licked his chops. “The Accords are shattered.”   “Our exile is ended!” the female chirped.   Their leader nodded, his calm a counterpoint to his companions’ excitement. “As the visions of our ancestors foretold. And who should be bearing Amaterasu’s standard, paving the path for her return – than her fabled champion.” He growled, showing teeth that could pass for knives.   Lux offered a rebuttal; Sorcha was grateful for that, seeing as her mouth

Despite being somewhat buoyed by the talk she had had with Captain Lux, Sorcha still felt angry. Angry at Chloe Wilmott, pissed off with Lina and her rabble, and upset at the failure of her project.   She tried not to let that show as she ate, though.   She sat in the mess hall with Lux, both eating the fish they had caught in the garden sector. It was genuine salmon, rich and tasty, and Sorcha focused on that. It reminded her of the fish that swam in the Selsey River running through Appledore – what was it called? Fliptail, that was it.  Lux licked her muzzle happily and smiled at Sorcha. “How you holding up, O’Riordan?” the Husky asked her.   Sorcha smiled back, the delight at what she was eating keeping her ears up. “Alright, I guess.” She bit into another chunk of fish. “This is so yummy.”   “Mm,” Lux mumbled through a mouthful. “When I was a pup on Omaril, the fish market in Bluepoint had some of this stuff in. I’d just been given my pocket money, and I bought some. From the

“Attention, all repair crews,” Captain Minerva Lux’s voice called, coming over the speakers on the FSV via a link to those on the Nelvana. “Please report to your assigned tasks. Shift Two is now underway.”   This announcement reached the twittering ears of a dispirited and despairing Sorcha O’Riordan in the ship’s dorm. She got to her feet and stumbled back into the crew commons, avoiding looking at anyone. It worked out; they seemed to be just as reluctant to look at her. She located her boots near the main table, took a swig of coffee, and tried to pick herself up, wiping persistent tears from her cheek fur.   “Hey, O’Riordan,” Naoko Wilbur woofed from nearby; she was standing behind the couch facing the entertainment unit. She pointed at the charm hanging around Sorcha’s neck. “Nice necklace.”   “Thanks,” Sorcha mumbled.   Naoko offered her a soft smile before directing her attention to the couch’s occupants; Lina and Ruan were still asleep, both snoring loudly. Naoko grinned and

Sorcha shivered as she snugged her fleece up around her furry neck. Shards of ice drifted on the breeze, and the pale light of the dying sun, smothered by grey clouds, failed to warm her. She wandered through Appledore’s main road, searching desperately for any signs of life. “Mammy?” she cried out mournfully, knowing full well what had happened to her family, but unwilling to accept it. “Dad? Aisling!” She sniffled, tears freezing on her muzzle. “Anyone?” The air was still and stifling, and Sorcha could hear a faint moaning noise on the air, like a howling wind that sounded distorted and wrong. It sent waves of unease and distress through her, but she knew she had to be strong. Her family was here, she knew it. She just had to find them. She’d already looked at home; the house had been deserted. Abandoned. But they’d come here, Sorcha told herself. They were here, maybe holed up in the town shop, where the supplies were. She trudged over the icy pavement and tried the front