Mistrunner 4 - Chapter 56 - Whispers Overwhelming (Patreon)

Being the most powerful person on the planet doesn’t mean anything if the entire universe is arrayed against you. Sometimes, you’re just destined to lose.

Alistaris Kargat

As Gala shouted something I couldn’t be bothered to hear, I acted on instinct. Gathering the Mist around me, I embraced the structure of Teleport. At the same time, I wrapped myself in a protective barrier that, in my panicked state, I hoped would protect me. Then, I flickered out of existence, riding a wave of Mist through the ship’s various bulkheads and coming out on the surface of its elaborate blue hull.

But I didn’t stop there.

Instead, I threw myself at the missiles, each one brimming with more Mist than I had ever seen concentrated in any munitions. And I tore them apart. Time didn’t mean anything to me. Every passing second felt like minutes. Or hours. I knew the cocoon of Mist surrounding me wasn’t going to last. Even as I ripped through those missiles, my protections degraded.

And eventually, they were completely sundered.

I couldn’t spare the focus necessary to rebuild them. Instead, the entirety of my concentration was squarely on keeping those missiles from finding their way to the Infinite Conquest.

There were so many, though.

Too many.

Thousands of them, and every one powerful enough to cripple the massive ship. I could feel it.

Yet, I endeavored to protect it – not only to save myself because, after all, I couldn’t remain in space for much longer, but also to save Gala. Mostly, though, I wanted to preserve access to the blockade controls, because there was a seed of an idea in my mind. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the specifics, but I felt certain that there was something there. Something that could save us all.

In any case, just like I couldn’t spare the focus to protect myself from the vacuum of space, I couldn’t give the idea the thought necessary to bring it to fruition. So, I concentrated on the task at hand, destroying one missile after another. Some, I simply disabled their propulsion systems and sucked the Mist out of their explosives. Others were too complex, and I simply detonated them.

But one by one, I cut the bombardment down.

Meanwhile, I could see the world ships in the distance. They were far enough away that they only looked like grey specs amidst the stars, yet I knew them for what they were. At the same time, a fleet of ships had launched from Earth, each one carrying with it thousands of people that represented the hope of humanity’s continued existence.

Fortunately, the Templar ships didn’t care about them.

I had painted too large of a target on my back for them to ignore. Which was fine. If I was meant to be a distraction, then so be it.

But it was all too much.

I was powerful. Inordinately so. I could do things nobody else in the world – perhaps even the galaxy – could do. Yet, I couldn’t be in a thousand places at once, and that deficiency showed itself in my inability to stop all the missiles before they crashed into the Infinite Conquest.

Some exploded with predictable fury. Fortunately, the ship’s defenses were extraordinarily robust, which was likely why the Templar fleet had aimed so much ordnance in its direction. That’s what it would take to completely overcome the shields. Other missiles were destroyed by the Infinite Conquest’s defensive cannons.

But some made it to the hull by activating some sort of countermeasures meant to bore through the shields. They didn’t explode, though. Instead, from their fuselages extended a series of metallic arms, which they used to latch onto the hull. Then, they breached the hull.

Clearly, the Templars had sent boarding parties.

And now that they were open, I could sense their occupants.

All mystics. All just as powerful as the wax-faced alien I’d killed only a few minutes before. Even as the Templars flooded into the ship, I checked the ships from which they’d come, and I was surprised to see that they hadn’t launched any more missiles. So, I wasted no more time in space; instead, I used my new version of Teleport to return whence I had come.

I thudded back to the terminal room, gasping for air with my body half-frozen. Even with my cocoon of Mist, I wasn’t nearly as protected from space as I thought. With a little time, there was a chance I could improve the process, but time was the one thing I didn’t have. After all, there was a small army of powerful Templars racing through the ship.

And I wasn’t so naïve as to believe Gala could do much against such a force.

So, I looked up, saying, “You should probably go. Find the escape pods. I’m sure a ship this size has plenty. Get back to Earth.”

“But –”

I pushed myself to my feet, surging Mist to heal my not-quite-human body. There was even less of the old me left now. Maybe twenty percent human. It was odd to know that I was more Mist than flesh. But there were advantages to that, too. I felt closer to the Mist than ever before. The whispers had grown even louder. I felt that if I inverted my perception, they would become deafening screams.

In seconds, I was back to normal. “Gala, this isn’t a fight for you,” I said. “I know you’re strong. In most battles, you’d be an asset. But in this one, I can’t afford to split my focus between protecting you and fighting what’s coming.”

She clearly wanted to argue. I could see it in her bovine eyes. But I could also see resignation. She knew I was right. And deep down, I think she knew what our separation represented. If she left, there was every chance that she would never see me again. Did I intend to sacrifice myself? No. But in the battle that was coming, we both knew the odds were stacked against me.

With all my power – and I had that in spades – I was still just one person.

“Go.”

She sighed, then reached out to grip my shoulder. Her hand was large enough to brush against my neck. “In a lot of ways, I feel like we barely know one another,” she said. “But in others, you’re like family. Please don’t do anything rash.”

I knew how difficult it was for someone like her to walk away from a battle. She was a warrior, and an elite one at that. But there was enough of a realist in her to know that she couldn’t contribute to what was coming.

For my part, I was glad to see her go. She was one of the few people in the world – or the universe, I suppose – I would count a true friend. She’d helped me almost from the very beginning. But there was more to it than that. Over the years, I’d visited her countless times. Usually, I did so under the pretense of buying ammunition or seeing if she had any new weapons available. The reality of it was that I just liked her company. My uncle had trusted her, and so I had as well.

So, the goodbye felt incredibly poignant, as much because I had finally admitted how much I cared about the minotaur as because I recognized that my chances of making it through the coming battle grew increasingly slimmer by the passing second.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t do something stupid, right?”

She just gave me a sad smile. “Seriously. Be careful.” Then, she handed me her blade. “Use this. It’s better than any of these others.”

I took the sword. It felt good in my hand, like an extension of my arm. I looked up into Gala’s eyes, and I lied, “I’ll be careful.”

Careful really wasn’t in my nature, and I think she recognized that. But neither of us wanted to acknowledge it.

After that, she took off, and I took a minute to let Patrick know what was going on. He echoed Gala’s sentiments, though he seemed far more confident that I’d make it through than she had been. I wanted to share that sentiment, but I knew what was coming. There were hundreds of mystics, each a trained Templar and as powerful as any I’d faced so far. My odds of survival were slim, but I knew that if I didn’t make a stand, they would simply reengage the blockade, trapping all of humanity on the surface. To escape, they needed time, and I had vowed to give them just that.

So, I prepared myself as well as I could, pacing back and forth amidst the bodies of Arbiters of Orion I’d just killed. As I did, I continued to listen to the whispers of the Mist. I knew there was something there. I could feel it. I just needed to be more receptive.

I didn’t get the chance, though.

Not before the Templars arrived.

They looked so intimidating and heroic, wearing their white robes. Each one radiated a level of might that only served to exacerbate that aura of power. But then again, so did I. For the first time since my body had been rebuilt by the Mist, I let my own aura extend unrestrained. It undulated from my body, wild and vicious, as it responded to the thoughts running rampant in my mind.

It was a fitting reflection of my anger.

Of my indignation.

Of my stubborn refusal to surrender before overwhelming odds.

The most powerful Templar – a bearded alien with red skin – stepped forward on cloven hooves. He wielded a wicked polearm, its blade glistening with barely restrained Mist.

“Mirabelle Braddock,” he croaked, his voice sounding like it had come from a demonic frog. “You are hereby ordered to remand yourself into our custody. Otherwise, we will be forced to destroy you.”

“As if you don’t plan to do that anyway,” I said, pacing back and forth. I rolled my shoulders. “That’s why you’re here, right? You want to enslave me. Or kill me. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Do not force our hand, child.”

“I would say the same to you,” was my retort.

“You believe you can win. You are mistaken. Surrender, and we will save your people,” he said. “Give yourself to us, and we will –”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s what I said,” I replied. I pointed my sword in his direction. “You’re going to be the first to die, just so you know. I’ll rip the Mist from your body, and while you’re reeling from the sudden weakness that follows, I will decapitate that pretty, red head.” I turned to the others. “You all won’t be far behind.”

He shook his head sadly. “You would sacrifice your world to avoid going with us?”

“It’s a decision I’ve made before,” I answered truthfully. I’d been offered the same sort of deal by Nora. It hadn’t ended well for her. Besides, this time was different. Even if this red-skinned asshole intended to make good on his promise, there was no way it would be good for humanity. At best, they would be indentured or enslaved and shunted off to some forgotten corner of the universe. At worst, he’d just kill them all anyway.

Because the Templars didn’t care about Earth. Truthfully, they didn’t care about me, either. Their only driving force was the preservation of their own power. Freddy had made that abundantly clear, and the whispers of the Mist felt like they supported that notion. I couldn’t understand them – not yet – but they clearly didn’t like the Templars.

I chose to trust that rather than the dubious promises of an alien who’d been sent to kill me.

“You truly do not intend to be reasonable?”

“From my perspective, this is the only reasonable response. But I’ll give you a chance. Leave. Go back to your ships and fly away. Leave us to our own devices,” I said. “Let humanity board the world ships, and –”

He cocked his head to the side.

That’s when I felt it.

The Templar ships hadn’t run out of missiles. Because of course they hadn’t. Instead, they’d simply redirected their fire. Even from so far away, I could feel the world ships exploding.

I sighed. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He started to say something, but I didn’t allow it. Instead, I rocketed forward, using my new version of Teleport to close the distance. At the same time, a thousand Mist tendrils snaked out. Most of them were directed at the red-skinned Templar, but quite a few extended all around me, where they poised to block any attacks the others might aim in my direction.

My Mist tendrils slammed into him, latching on like ephemeral leeches and sucking the Mist right out of him. It came in a flood – more than with any other opponent I’d ever faced. If I’d encountered him even an hour before, I might have struggled.

But with every passing minute, my command of Mist had grown, and the fight against the wax-faced mystic had solidified things in a way no degree of practice ever could. I leveraged that new prowess to my advantage, tearing the red Templar’s Mist away in great chunks.

His eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled in weakness.

Then, Gala’s sword – gleaming like a blade of pure Mist – descended. It bit into his Mist-deprived neck like it wasn’t even there. Black blood flew into the air, staining his pristine white tunic.

His head followed only an instant later.

But committing to that kill opened me up to hundreds of attacks from powerful mystics. Even as I planted my feet and the mystics head hit the floor, I was buried beneath a barrage of Mist-based attacks. Some were simple blades of Mist. Others gripped my limbs. Still others manifested as various projectiles – some of which looked like arrows or spears, while the rest took the form of simple balls of roiling energy. A good many of them, I managed to deflect, but even with my prowess, I couldn’t get them all.

The first few didn’t do much, but enough hit their mark to send me stumbling. That was the only opening they needed. After all, the Templars were all trained warriors, and they knew how to take advantage of even the slightest slip.

I felt the bite of innumerable blades as they cut into me, one after another. My arm was the first limb severed, but it wasn’t the last. In seconds, I’d been sliced into a dozen pieces. They took no chances, and one of the mystics destroyed my head, splattering it into bits of skull and scattered brain.

Yet, just as I had in the ruins of New York, my consciousness refused to surrender to death. Instead, I remained in the atmosphere, a pool of disembodied Mist. The whispers grew louder, and my connection to the Mist escalated. And then, I coalesced.

Even as the Templars congratulated themselves on a job well done, I reformed my body. My bare feet slapped down on the plastisteel floor, garnering the attention of the suddenly shocked Templars.

“Is that all you got?” I asked flippantly. Then, with a deft control of the ambient Mist, I manifested a glimmering blue blade. It took the form of the old nano-bladed sword I’d used for so many years – appropriate and comfortable in my hand. It shone with the light of uncountable nanites, all working together to infuse it with unmatched power.

The Templars flinched back.

I did not.

With my ever-increasing Mist control, I launched myself forward, flickering from one spot to the next in less than an instant. A moment later, two pieces of templar – her torso and her legs – went flying different directions.

That’s when the slaughter began.

I didn’t even have to use my version of Teleport. Instead, I simply willed myself from one spot to the next, appearing for only so long as it took me to slice a Templar to pieces before moving to the next spot.

In seconds, a dozen of them were dead.

The rest decided that was a good time to run.

Of course, I had no intention of allowing that. They’d come to kill, capture, or enslave me. They’d threatened to kill everyone on Earth. Because of that, I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about butchering every last one of them.

Besides, it wasn’t even difficult.

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so thoroughly trained, I would have struggled. Maybe if I wasn’t a veteran of a thousand battles, I would have hesitated. But with the combination of my experience, training, and most of all, my connection to the Mist, the fight couldn’t even qualify as a battle. Instead, it was just a slaughter.

And in its wake, I stood amidst hundreds of dismembered pieces of alien, my breathing calm and collected, as I basked in the feeling of might.

It wasn’t until Patrick contacted me over Secure Connection – which still worked, for some undefinable reason – that I realized that my fight, if could even be called such, was only one small part of the battle.

“Mira, we’re struggling here,” he said. “If you’ve got anything else to add, now’s a great time to do it.”

“The world ships?”

“Gone.”

“The Templars?”

“They’re turning their attention on us. We’re holding on, but not for long. The transports carrying the refugees are going back to Earth,” he explained.

I was more powerful than ever, but I couldn’t be everywhere at once. I couldn’t save them all. I was powerful but impotent.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted.

“The biggest Templar ship is doing something…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. There’s this huge cannon coming out of the…oh…oh no…”

“What is it?”

“Alistaris says it’s meant to destroy Earth. They…I don’t know…”

“Miss Braddock,” came a voice over the Infinite Conquest’s intercom system. “I know you can hear me. My name is Captain Gradion, of the Arbiters of Orion. You have boarded my ship. You have killed my people. Now, we have brokered a deal with the Templars. With your actions, you have doomed your planet. I hope it was worth it.”