When Ashe came to, he was in a bed. Although where, he had no idea. His eyes gradually opened and then quickly snapped shut - the light was too bright and he was suddenly aware of the throbbing in his head. He tried turning his head to the right, it seemed less bright in that direction but that just caused his head to throb more and an intense dizziness to rip through him. He didn't know whether to move or stay still, as either choice seemed to result in the same pain and nausea. The sensation seemed to encompass his entire being, underlined with a constant and intense thirst. He was unable to process where he was or what he should do. His throat felt like burning sandpaper and almost as soon as the sensation registered a wave of coughing ripped through him that bent him nearly in half, brought streams of tears to his eyes, and caused a torrent of vomit that only made his throat burn more. His chest and lungs were on fire. He had no idea what was happening to him. He was now fully awake though, at least the deathly coughing fit had awarded that little benefit. Although full consciousness only brought with it more pain and vertigo.
Before he knew it he was being propped up, the hands appearing out of nowhere and holding him steady as the remains of the mead coloured bile trickled from his mouth. It dripped into a metal pan that was being held suspended in front of him. A nurse. Hospital then. His senses came back and his awareness cleared.
" - relax Corporal," the voice finished. He hadn't heard the first part through the retching.
He tried to ask a question but all that came out was a dry croak.
"Don't talk. You've inhaled a lot of smoke and your throat is a wreck," the nurse was blunt but calm. She helped lay him down, adjusting his nose tube as she did so. The tickle of it brought the awareness of its presence, and he suddenly realised he also had an medbag plugged into his arm. He looked around the room, and at the icon on the nurses uniform, although he couldn't make out her name through his watering eyes, the insignia above it was just about visible.
"Do you know where you are?" the nurse asked him.
He nodded. He did - Harmon Reed Medical Centre - the Capitals's Military Hospital. Named after some old hopper that had done something heroic Ashe had never been interested in looking up.
"Here," she held a straw to his mouth. He sipped. The water wasn't as soothing as it perhaps should have been and it just made his throat itch a little more, but it was welcome nonetheless. The nurse checked his IV's and readouts, adjusting things as she did so. He tried to look at the information on the monitors himself but couldn't make any sense of it.
"What -" he managed the one word before another coughing fit cut it short.
"You are suffering from smoke inhalation and a hangover the size of a ship. Aside from your lungs and throat 'tis difficult to tell which symptom is caused by which affliction."
Ashe tried to croak out another question, she silenced him with a finger.
"Don't talk Corporal. There's no need. You were found, you are safe, and you are on the mend. We can probably discharge you in a day or two. As long as you are hydrated and rested, you'll be up in no time."
Ashe suddenly had memories of fire burning all around him. A woman. He'd been with her. And then...fire. He'd been trying to find his way out. He'd been in his barracks, and then he hadn't been. His confusion was overwhelming. He needed answers. He had no idea what had happened to him, or what had perhaps happened to the Outer Court. He tried to speak and once again his question manifested as a mere croak.
"Try and get some rest," the nurse said, cutting him off. "You're lucky you escaped unharmed."
Unharmed from what? But she was already gone.
Ashe relaxed back into his pillows. His body was exhausted, and although his mind was foggy and desperate for rest, there was an alertness that kept fighting its way to the surface. He recognised the almost hallucinogenic, thunderous thought train of a hangover, but it was the questions and concerns colliding with it that made it even more difficult to sleep.
Eventually he did though, the trace amount of sedatives in the detox-hydration cocktail flowing into his arm taking charge and forcing his body to shut down.
He gradually fell into a deep sleep.
He had no idea how long he'd been asleep for when he was awoken sharply by hands shaking him frantically. The first thing he became fully aware of was the screams. The sounds of panicked voices and hurried footsteps formed a very clear symphony of something very bad happening.
He opened his eyes and the broad face above him swam into focus. It took Ashe a few seconds to place it.
"Gar -" he choked out. He couldn't manage the last symbol.
Private Garvey had a firm hold of him, still shaking. Ashe pushed him off as a fresh wave of movement induced coughing took hold of him.
"What's...hap..happen.."
"Tiders, Corporal. We're under attack."
Ashe could only frown. He must have heard wrong.
"Get up, Corporal."
Ashe pushed the Private away and managed to sit himself straight up, ignoring the wave of nausea that assaulted his stomach, although it was nowhere near as bad as his last brief visit to consciousness. Ashe glanced through the door and saw a panicked doctor and nurse run past, three patients being ushered along between them. They were flanked by a court guard brandishing an emergency response rifle.
Garvey was at the window, looking out to the city beyond. He turned back to Ashe.
"Protocol states -"
Ashe held up his hand. Garvey fell silent.
"What are you doing here?" Ashe whispered. His voice sounded like death. He took a sip of water and his stomach gently protested it.
"We took a convey to the barracks, but couldn't get close due to the secure perimeter," Garvey said. "There was a small secondary explosion of some kind, perhaps a grid node or similar. I was hit by a rogue piece of debris, took a nasty hit with a matching burn."
He lifted up his shirt to show the bandages covering his torso and shoulder. "MRO's brought me here to be patched up. I saw on the news feeds that you'd been recovered from the wreckage and wanted to check if you were okay. Came up here as soon as they'd let me see you and, well, you should probably see for yourself, Sir."
Ashe swung his legs towards the floor and tentatively stood up. As if to greet him, the sound of a tremendous horn bellowed in the distance somewhere outside. Ashe knew the sound. Everyone did. He'd heard something similar just two days prior at First Province - a tider raiding horn. But not this far inland. The coast was several hundred miles down the Jade River.
A new sensation grew in the pit of his stomach. This one brought on not by alcohol, but by dread. Something had happened at the barracks. He'd pieced together that much. Something terrible, and he'd been in the centre of it. Miraculously, somehow, he'd made it out. And yet, something even worse was happening now. He needed answers and needed them quickly.
He gently took a few steps towards the Private before a frightened looking orderly appeared in the doorway -
"Troops - move it along. We're getting all patients to the lockdown wing." He looked at Garvey. "Soldier, if you're mobile, grab your friend and get a move on. You know the way, and if you don't, there's nav-points everywhere." He was gone before either man could respond.
It was then that the realisation fully fell into place. Ashe paused. The fire. The explosion. The word wreckage. How many people had died? He stumbled across the room to Garvey, pulling the medbag from his arm in the process, the question already forming on his lips -
And then his gaze fell upon the scene outside. He stopped dead, reaching for Garvey to steady himself.
Three tider skyships hovered in the air on the outskirts of the city, approaching slowly from the West.
The larger of the two ships led the flotilla, flanked on either side by a slightly smaller counterpart. All three vessels bore the open-top hull with under-mounted engine nodes that was standard skyship design and all three had their solar sails open to full extent. An intimidation tactic, creating the largest and most threatening shapes possible. The shadows cast from the ships passed over the ground underneath and already Ashe could see the small, terrified shapes of people below flocking for safety. Ashe had only ever seen one skyship before and that was in a museum on a school field trip as a child. He'd learned that they were considered a relic of a bygone era, slow, inefficient and hard to upkeep. Seeing three working ships flying together now was unprecedented. The sight would have been almost beautiful if he'd had time to admire it, but the rising dread in his soul somewhat ruined the majesty.
He was unable to make out the sigils on the sails, but he didn't need to. Skyships of any kind meant tiders. And tiders meant death and ruin. One of the craft let out another great bellow, louder than the first and closer this time, although Ashe had no way of knowing how fast they were travelling.
"Why aren't the turrets firing?" Garvey almost whispered.
Only two of the city's dozen gun towers were visible from Ashe's position in the hospital. Almost identical in design to the ones at First Province, but larger, more current models. Except they now stood still, silent. Ineffective guardians watching over the urban expanse.
"They won't," Ashe rasped. He knew what was going to happen next.
"Sir?" Garvey asked.
Ashe could see the white smoke still billowing from where a large chunk of the barracks had once lay. The wafting plumes occasionally obscured the three floating harbingers of death that made their approach, the sounds of their engines now just about audible.
"What happened at the barracks, Garvey?" Ashe coughed. The Private brought over the water flask from the bed, Ashe took it gratefully.
"An accident, maybe? An attack? We think. We don't know."
"Dead?" Ashe asked, dreading the answer.
"I don't know, no one does for sure. Hundreds is the best estimate." Garvey looked out at the approaching skyships. "T'was no accident was it?"
"They won't fire," Ashe said again.
As if in answer, Ashe could hear the growing roars of approaching ASVs - dispatched from the Florentine Airfield to the East - as the skyships grew ever closer.
"First Province was a test run." Ashe said simply.
It took seconds for the defence turrets to swing into position and another millisecond for them to adjust targeting and open a barrage of fire on the approaching aircraft. Glowing streams of projectiles moved in almost imperceptible flashes across the city skyline towards the East. Ashe couldn't see where they hit, but heard the explosions in the distance.
Garvey's mouth hung open in an expression of horror. Ashe merely sighed. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He'd never been one for military planning or combat theatre, but the whole sequence of events over the last three days suddenly seemed so obvious. And a fresh wave of hatred not for the tiders but for the Capital and for Parliament escaped him as nothing more than a whisper of breath.
As he watched, an ASV roared past the hospital, dodging the onslaught of fire and returning in kind, with several hundred rounds sailing over the building's roof. It all happened so quickly that neither Ashe nor Garvey had time to react or take cover before the ASV was hit and spiralled downwards in a ball of fire. Ashe saw the pilot eject briefly before being pulled to the floor by Garvey as the windows blew in. The impact of the ASV crashing a few yards away caused the building to tremble and showered them both in shards of glass.
"Where are the rest of them?" Garvey yelled.
"Gone! Those turrets are designed to prevent anything from even getting near Capital airspace. They didn't have a chance!"
Ashe pulled himself onto all fours, a fresh wave of coughing causing dust and glass to fall away from him like razor sharp powder.
"You alright, Sir?" Garvey asked, massaging his burn wound. He had a few cuts but only superficial.
"You tell me," Ashe said. He looked down at the sharp triangles of glass covering the floor and then at his own hospital pyjamas and bare feet.
"I'll need some boots!" He attempted a laugh and just about managed it before a fresh fit of coughing hit him.
Garvey pulled him to his feet and they faced the window once more. Without the glass, they could hear the screams down below, the panic rising up to them like a heatwave off tarmac. The panic in the corridors behind them had died off somewhat, and Ashe assumed most of the patients and staff had made it to the lockdown wing.
The ships now loomed almost overhead, well within Outer Court airspace and Ashe could now make out the blood red sun on the lead ship's sails. One of the smaller ships bore the sigil of a mallet or hammer of some kind. The third ship and its sails, however, escaped his eye line. He could, however, see the amount of advanced and incredibly destructive hardware mounted all over the vessels, every single weapon aimed downwards.
"What do we do, Sir?" Garvey asked.
"Sorry?"
"You're my superior."
Ashe only stared blankly. As a Corporal the closest thing he'd ever had to a command was occasionally overseeing small groups during training or security ops and even then he'd done the bare minimum. He wasn't built for the military, let alone command. He'd never given orders in his life.
Garvey took a breath. "Protocol dictates in the event of an enemy incursion that we must protect the Royal Court, protect the electorate, protect parliament and ensure the longevity and prosperity of the Capital's ruling body. We must minimize civilian casualties but not at the cost of causing harm to the ruling body. All able bodied hoppers must prioritise the safety and - if necessary - evacuation of the Capitals governing infrastructure. To not act under the required duty of the constitution if able would be considered an act of treason." Garvey reeled it off like he was sitting an exam. "As it stands, we both have two arms, two legs and can move. I think we're able enough, Sir." He added the Sir almost as an afterthought.
Ashe tried to think, his hangover slowing him down only slightly. Duty. Of course. Justice, Ever Forwards. Those cursed words. Always rearing their self righteous heads at the most inopportune times. And yet, suddenly, he felt a plan forming. He glanced at the ships overhead.
"No mortars."
"What? Garvey asked.
"No mortars. They are heading to the Royal Court, yet no mortars. They obviously don't want to cause wide spread, uncontrollable damage to the infrastructure, otherwise they'd be bombing it already. They're going to deploy ground troops."
"Are you sure, Sir?"
"Of course not, I have no idea what I'm talking about, but we could be several hundred hoppers down with Lord only knows how many others are injured and incapable. Look at the ships, Garvey! You know the troop capacity of those?"
"No, Corporal."
"Neither do I, but I'm assuming a lot. Enough to breach the walls with no turrets and no air support to stop them. They are happy to sacrifice the fodder, it's the tider way. Hopper Command could dispatch more ASV's, but they won't waste the hardware. They'll be shot down before they can get close. This will be a ground skirmish."
"We won't get through them, Sir."
"Of course we won't. And I have no intention of fighting, Garvey. Even if I wasn't coughing up a lung and wearing pyjamas. I've come this far with doing the absolute minimum required of me and I don't intend to change that now. Follow me."
Ashe turned dramatically before being forced to gingerly hop over the shards of glass on the floor. He realised that he probably looked ridiculous but had no other option. He felt the odd shard pierce and scrape his feet but there was nothing to do about it until he was out of the room.
"Ashe!" Garvey's voice stopped him.
"What?" Ashe said through a cough.
"I've never seen combat."
"I'm sorry." Ashe was dumbfounded.
"Just field training, a few clean up ops." There was no shame in Garvey's voice, he was just stating facts. "I'm fairly green around the gills -"
"Can you shoot?" Ashe interjected.
"Be useless if I couldn't."
"Good enough. Then we're able. Don't want a taste of that treason now, do we. Lets go." He crossed the threshold into the corridor and started picking the glass from his feet, silently cursing Garvey under his breath. If Garvey hadn't found him, if there wasn't a witness - even worse, a by the book, patriotic witness - then he could have maybe, quietly slipped away, hidden, and waited the whole thing out. Maybe even down in the lockdown wing, feigning a more severe injury. But no. Instead he was drawn into a battle that he had no interest in participating in once again.
Six months. Six months and this will all be done.
If he even managed to live through it.
"Let's find the armoury," Ashe said finding, a nearby nav-point.
They'd travelled only a few metres down the hallway before they came across an armed court guard. He had his weapon raised and was doing a final sweep of the ward, quickly checking in each room or office before moving onto the next.
"Hail!" Ashe called as best he could.
The guard spun around taking aim, before quickly relaxing his weapon. He approached, wincing briefly as another tider horn resounded from outside.
"Hoppers," he said simply.
"Corporal Ashe Marvel, ID tag indigo -"
"I know who you are, Marvel," the guard responded. Ashe unconsciously ignored the brief acknowledgement of his fame and continued.
"This is Private..." Ashe paused, embarrassed. He had no idea what Garvey's given name was.
"Aloysius," Garvey said, slightly wounded.
"Private Aloysius Garvey."
"Sergeant Jefford Green. Why are you not in the lockdown wing?"
"We were somewhat distracted with the show outside."
"This isn't a joke, Marvel."
"Oh, I'm fully aware of that, Sergeant. But if I'm frank, I'm not going out there. You may have noticed that I'm not wearing shoes." He gestured down to his feet for dramatic effect. "I'm also not prepared to engage in a suicide run when there is always a flashier and far stupider way to do things."
"Move on, Marvel, you're wasting my time."
"Sergeant, those ships are about to drop several boatloads worth of savages on our government. They also have every barrel aimed right at us. Now I'm not sure how you feel, but I quite like living here, mostly. That being said, I'm not going to hide away and be tried for treason, as much as the former part appeals. So, I suppose I'll have to pull my weight. That sound outside, the tremor you may have felt - the tiders have taken out a flock of ASV's and gained control of the defence turrets. First Province was a test run. This is the goal. Us. The Capital."
"The Capital has never been breached."
"And I've never yet experienced the taste of someone from the Autumn Isles but there's a first time for everything." His monologue had strained his throat and he erupted in a fresh wave of dry, hacking coughing. He drank deeply from the flask before continuing.
"Can you direct us to any long range weapons you have here. Anything with a scope, long barrel, suitable for sniping or covert kills? Neither of us are particularly suitable for combat but I do feel like perhaps taking down some boat-boys. They are really starting to inconvenience my week."
"There are several weapons lockers and a fully stocked armoury minus what's in use. I can order a quick inventory of anything suitable and we can get a matching number of men."
"That was my next suggestion." Ashe offered his hand. Sergeant Green took it.
"Let me guess, your suggestion after that was to place men on the roof, to rid the doorstep of a few tider roaches?"
"Why, yes it was," Ashe said, forcing a grin.
"Then follow me, soldiers."
