015: JAYNA - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT/CRIMSON SUNRISE - DAY 3

  Jayna hurried down the passageway. She tried to keep calm, tried to keep a level head, but found it almost impossible. The panic wanted to keep rising in her chest and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Her lungs and throat felt tight, like they didn't want to work properly.
  Tiders had reached the capital. Her home. The shining beacon of their society had been breached. It made her terrified. Sick, in fact. The previous night's conversation now hung around her like a noose. It felt like a prophecy, her worst fears realised. In the end, it wasn't revolts or separatists or seceding provinces, it was tiders. Exactly as she'd feared. A united, coordinated strike when for decades no one had thought it possible.
  When the crisis had started there'd been chaos, anger, a clash of egos, a debate over jurisdiction. She'd never seen her father so angry and at the same time so powerless. An attack meant military action with approval from the Cabinet. However there was no time for debate or democratic approval, particularly when some of the Cabinet were at such high risk themselves. Jayna could see the point of both sides, but the arguing had seemed fruitless. Every word exchanged was time wasted.  
    It had taken mere minutes from the initial security alert to the evacuation to the direct breach of the Hall. How many exactly Jayna couldn't be sure. Two? Seven? Fifteen? Her sense of time had all but vanished. She had no idea what was now happening in the space behind them, or the scale of attack outside. She knew that there were three ships, she knew that the remaining turrets had failed, and she knew that the military was in disarray. It was a clear enough picture, and yet still, despite her overwhelming terror, she wanted more details.
  But here she was instead, scurrying to the panic rooms. There were eleven of them in total. After the breach, when many of the Admiralty and command staff had turned back to fend off the incursion, their group had shrunk rapidly. 
  Far in front of her, her father was led by Colonel Renshaw, whose bulk was a powerful and imposing force to have at the head of the procession. Behind them, Byron Chandra, the Vice Regent of Parliamentary Intelligence hurried alongside District Admiral Knox. Then Jayna herself, accompanied by Commander O'Reilly, the brave hopper who'd led the charge at First Province. She'd made her way to assist in the evacuation, and given her experience and astute insight into recent events, Jayna had ensured that they had her close by. Behind Jayna, Regent Keroni still frantically tapped away on his datapad and somewhere behind him scuttled Regent Ito, head of Public Relations, and his Vice Regent Klaus Koren. Bringing up the rear was a Colonel and Vice Admiral whose names Jayna didn't know.
 It was telling of the situation that so many high ranking officers had ended up down here with them, swept up in the chaos when they should be out there somewhere, issuing orders, making plans and ensuring the safety of the city.
   They'd since left the sounds of gunfire and grenades behind them, there'd been no more explosions after the invaders had managed to breach one of the supposedly bomb-proof windows. The sounds of their frantic footsteps echoing around the tunnel made Jayna feel incredibly claustrophobic.
  "Commander Dunn has responded to the high-P pulse, Minister. Your wife's procession will have hopper escorts alongside the existing contingent within minutes." The voice came from the Colonel behind.
  "Thank you," Jayna's father said. He frantically tapped on his own datapad. "I can't reach Edric, or the Academy. Has there been any word?"
  Colonel Renshaw quickly turned and plucked the Minister's datapad from his hands.
   "Sire, you won't get through the communication block and blackout. With respect, stop trying. It's for your own protection."
  "Well it hardly matters now, does it!" Minister Suri roared. "They already know my location. My daughters too!"
  "Edric's in one of the safest places he can be, and so are you," Renshaw replied.
  "I hope the irony of that statement has not escaped you, Colonel," her father replied with fury.
   "How did this even happen?" the voice of the unknown Vice Admiral behind piped up. "Three tider skyships! That seems like a fundamental failure within our intelligence department if you ask me." The last part was aimed at Keroni.
  "Staargsson, please," Admiral Knox barked.
  "Vice Admiral," Minister Suri responded sharply. "Regent Keroni oversees a large infrastructure with many moving parts and it is his and my concern where failures lie. If any."   
  "What about our gulls, you idiot!" Staargsson shrieked at Keroni again. "It's your job! It's only shuffling papers and messages, how hard can it be? Fucking bureaucrats!"
   The group had stopped moving, giving Knox the chance to step up to his colleague firmly. Jayna had no idea how far away the first security door was as the tunnels were featureless and dim. She guessed that it couldn't be more than thirty five to forty metres away. Close enough that they could hold the military bravado for another few minutes surely? 
  "You're out of line, Vice Admiral." Knox was cold.
  "I told you years ago that any intelligence ops should be fully overseen by hopper command and you wouldn't listen!"
  Knox looked ready to explode. Luckily, Minister Suri stepped in, calm, measured and pointed.
  "When this is over, and we are recovering accordingly, District Admiral Knox will expect your resignation in his inbox. Do you understand, Vice Admiral?"
  Vice Admiral Staargsson looked furious, but wounded.
  "Perfectly, Sire."
  The cloud of silence fell like a heavy blanket.
  "Sirs, please, this will only serve to further the enemy's ends." Commander O'Reilly was leaning against the tunnel wall, her face dimly lit by the strip lighting above. She held onto a pipe, holding herself up. She did not look well.
  "Agreed. Let's move." Knox spun on his heel and pushed his way to the front of the group. Then stopped, tilting his head to one side and un-holstering his pistol.
  "What's that?" Vice Regent Koren asked.
  Footsteps. More than one pair, echoing down the passage. The sound of voices rising and falling.
  "Go, go!" Renshaw boomed.
  They ran.
  The first gas canister struck the wall at the curve of the tunnel. Although Jayna didn't know at first what the thud was, she recognised the hissing that followed immediately after. She whirled around, resisting her fathers hand on the small of her back to see the small metal tube rolling down the gradual incline leaving a thick cloud in its wake. There was another metallic clang nearby as a second canister struck further back down the tunnel. 
  It took seconds for the fog to obscure everything before there was a moment of silence, a heartbeat of anticipation that seemed to stretch for an eternity. And then the passageway broke out in chaos.
  She heard a gunshot to her left, but had no idea who'd fired. In the closed-in space of the tunnel it sounded like a bomb and it left her ears ringing. It was followed by another, then more.
  Without warning she was thrown to the ground and someone was on top of her.
  "Stay down, Jayna. Stay low." It was her father. She barely heard his whisper through the whining in her eardrums. Commander O'Reilly was huddled nearby, Regent Chandra too. Jayna couldn't see much else. The smoke was still growing thicker and she forced out a cough. The occasional flash of gunfire in the murk was like lightning in storm clouds.
  "Move, Minister, keep low. " Commander O'Reilly pushed them along. "I'm right behind you." She let out a dry cough and propped herself up on her hands. She was struggling, and Jayna wondered briefly what had happened to her.
  The entire scene was a frantic tapestry of confusion. Voices shouted back and forth whilst gunshots fired in an uneven rhythm. Jayna didn't know who was talking, who was screaming at whom, or who was shooting. There was blood on the floor. She saw feet wearing hopper uniform boots stumbling past her but didn't look up to see who it was.
  A blade sailed over her head and clattered on the floor. She reached for it, but it was plucked away from her.
  "Admiral! The pipes!" It was O'Reilly, now standing above her. Jayna was crawling now. She could see the security door. It was so close.
  PANG! PANG!
  The noise ricocheted through her head like a bell.
  PANG! PONG!
  Suddenly the sound of rushing water. It gushed around her hands and knees, soaking through her trousers. She could feel droplets spattering her face, mixing with her tears. She'd been crying. She only realised at that moment. 
  Her hand reached the door. She started to stand, but was pushed to the ground again.
  "I said stay down!" her father barked. She heard him clearly and it was only then she became aware that the sounds of gunfire had ceased.
   Is it over? She was confused, only seconds seemed to have passed.
Jayna looked up. Her father and Regent Chandra stood at the door, Commander O'Reilly stood nearby, pressing her body against the wall and scanning the swirling smoke with a pistol in hand. Regent Keroni lay at the Commander's feet, a swirl of crimson leaking from somewhere in his body that was instantly diluted by the rushing water.
  The incline of the tunnel meant that the water was now several inches deep, it covered Commander O'Reilly's feet. Jayna looked down and saw that her hands had vanished under the liquid murk. There was more blood in the water. She lifted herself up into a crouch. She was barely aware of her own presence, almost watching everything from afar. Not that there was much to see, the smoke and surface water lay like fog over a lake on a cold morning. 
  "Chandra! Chandra!" her father was yelling! "The codes damn it!" A small buzz-like beep occasionally emitted from the security lock.
  Commander O'Reilly, now wielding a blade in addition to the pistol, vanished in a blur. Jayna watched from her out of body vantage point as O'Reilly fired off a shot seconds before propelling herself forward at an inhuman speed on the surface of the water. There was another gunshot before she appeared again, seeming to spasm briefly before stumbling to her knees, two or three flashes of sparks accompanied her twitching. O'Reilly managed one more final slash with her sword before her upper arm appeared to explode in a shower of blood, although Jayna didn't remember hearing a shot. O'Reilly spun around, gripping her arm with a pained grunt before finally collapsing in a heavy splash, her feet giving one final twitch.
  "Chandra, hold your damn hand still!" Minister Suri was practically screaming now.
  BANG! That shot Jayna did hear.
  She felt the spray of blood and bone spatter on her face before something dropped nearby with a dull splash. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch forever before the screaming started. She didn't know if it was her. It might have been. It probably was.
  Then she was being held, her fathers smell engulfing her. She buried her head in his chest.
  "Daddy," she finally whispered.
  "I'm here. I'm here. Jayna, I need you to stand up. We need a dual entry for the door."
  "I don't think I can."
  "Yes you can. You are the Heiress of Equatorial District and you will stand true."
  Jayna nodded and allowed herself to be lifted. She had no strength left in her legs to perform the task herself.
  "Stop there." The voice was gruff and cold.
  "Now Jayna!" her father almost pushed her to the security terminal.
  PING!
  The bullet ricocheted off the door above them.
  "I said stop there."
  Jayna turned around, her father shielded her with his body.
  From within the now dissipating smoke, a man appeared. He was thin and clad in a mixture of filthy, heavy clothing. His features were obscured behind a mask that Jayna immediately recognized as a hopper breather and goggle combo -although it looked damaged, or modified, Jayna couldn't tell which. A bandoleer filled with small knives was slung across his torso, and a heavy pack with mechanical components was strapped to his back. Jayna would recall barely anything that happened in the evacuation passage that afternoon but for the rest of her days she would remember every detail of the tider who emerged through the smoke and destroyed her life.
  "Whatever you - "
  "Shut up." The tider cut Jayna's father off so abruptly and suddenly that the Minister snapped his mouth closed in surprise.
   "Come here, and bring that beautiful poppet with you," the voice was distorted through the breather, almost like a radio with bad reception.
  "I do not, will not, and have never obeyed the demands of savages."
  The knife was drawn, thrown and in Minister Suri's leg so quickly that Jayna never even saw it happen. Her father collapsed in front of her, a scream of pain escaping his throat. Just one however, he would not give the man in the mask the satisfaction of another.
  "Father!" she knelt down next to him and reached for the knife.
  "Don't," he said through gritted teeth. "It'll bleed more."
  "You may have noticed, I'm bloody good with a throwin' knife," the tider removed another. "Wanna test me some more?"
   Jayna held her father, trying to put as much of her body between him and the approaching man.
  "What do you want?" she asked.
  "He wants me," her father groaned.
  "Actually, no," the tider said. "You're old news, old man. We're only int'rested in the future, and the future is her." He gestured his knife at Jayna to emphasise his point.
  "You will not take my daughter! Take me. I have far more value. She is weak... headstrong, impulsive, she'll never be elected into the chair." Jayna knew his words were hollow, knew he was trying to dissuade the man. Yet still, she wondered if there was a hint of truth in them.
  "That's sweet you'd throw her under the boat like that, but she don't have to be elected. You die and quicker than a whore's skirt liftin,' she's the new Minister."
  "You can kill me, but you won't get my family."
  "I'm pretty sure your wife's already sleepin' with the fishes. If everythin' has gone to plan anyway. The, er, Cap'n we picked up was pretty specific we try an' take out as many players as possible."
  A lump rose in Jayna's chest. Not her mother. It wasn't true. He had no way of knowing that. He was toying with them.
  "Who do you serve?" her father asked formally, openly.
  "Your number one man send his regards," the tider replied, not fully answering the question. 
  "Goodman," Minister Suri almost spat the word. "Got himself some sky-tiders did he? What was he offering?"
  "Dunno. No one rightly knows what he's got goin' on upstairs. Nor the finer points of the details. To be honest someone says you wanna drop into the Capital and wipe out the pigs at the top, who's gonna say no? He ain't my captain anyhow, my captain sails the skies."
  "Are you an assassin?" her father asked.
  The tider laughed.
  "Fuck no. Don't be daft. Tell you the truth I can't believe I'm the one that made it through. You should see the mess behind me. I came down here with six other men."
  "Don't do anything he wants," Jayna hissed to her father.
  "Come here, sweetheart," the man said.
  Jayna spat at his feet.
  "I am the Heiress of this city and I do not take orders from parasites."
  The second knife hit her father in the shoulder, he was thrown sideways and Jayna nearly toppled with him. It was only then that she saw Chandra's body, minus the top of its head. The wave of vomit came so quickly and so intensely that Jayna covered her father with the contents of her stomach.
  The tider laughed uproariously like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
  "Oh my, hardly a dignified end for Equatorial District's most beloved Minister."
  The tider was on Jayna before she could prepare herself, he grabbed her by the arm and ripped her away from her father. He tossed her aside like she was a doll and she splashed down into the bloody water.
  "Don't you hurt her!" Minister Suri's roar carried all the way down the tunnel.
  "I ain't gonna hurt her. She's the valuable one, remember? Why am I not being listened to?" The tider pulled off his goggles and breather and took a deep breath, the smoke had cleared enough that it was now just a fine haze in the air. "That's better."
   His hair was greasy and thin, and hung around his gaunt face like weeds on a ship. Jayna couldn't see the facial markings that identified his tribe but she doubted she'd have recognized them if she had.
  The man pulled out a battered old radio and spoke into it.
  "Lawrence here of the Angel's Hurricane. I've got her. Prep for recovery."
  A crackled voice responded. "Roger that, evac clean up deployin.' "
  The three of them waited in a kind of awkward silence that was so unfitting to the situation that it would have been funny under any other circumstances. Jayna shifted backwards slightly and her hand brushed against something, someone. She did not turn to see whose body it was. 
    From somewhere above, at the other end of the tunnel, an enormous boom shook the passageway walls. The lights flickered as dust fell, peppering the water. Another boom followed and this time the cloud of particulates was denser.
  "Ah, that'll be pest control clearing out the nest," Lawrence said. He turned to her, aiming his pistol. "You stay there, petal, your daddy and I need to have a quick chat."
  He strolled over to her father, knife and pistol in hand.
 "Get up Minister, you can at least die on your feet."
  The words were like a slap to the face, Jayna whirled around not caring for the bodies in front of her. She began searching desperately for a weapon. She wouldn't let this man kill her father while she sat helpless on her wet behind.
    "Don't bother." The click of the pistol arming stopped her. She turned around, Lawrence held it at her without turning around. Her father was now standing. Tall. Proud. Regal. Fighting the pain to stand as best he could, his eyes burning hatred into the man in front of him. 
  Lawrence grabbed him and spun around to face Jayna, pistol aimed at her, a blade against the throat of her father.
  Minster Suri never cried, not even at the end. He wouldn't give the filthy raider the satisfaction. His breaths were shallow, and scared. He kept his eyes on Jayna the entire time.
  Lawrence leaned in close.
 "I'm sorry I'm takin' my time. But this is probably the single biggest thing I'm ever gonna achieve in my miserable existence."
  Jayna was aware that her head was shaking, but it wasn't a conscious movement.
  "No....no..." she whispered.
  "I love you Jayna," he father said with as much bravery as he could. "Tell Edric and your mother the same. Lead our people forwards."
  "Bye bye," the tider said.
  The tears were blinding her and Jayna couldn't hold her eyes open. When Lawrence slit her fathers throat and the blood came gushing out she saw it all through a flickering watery blur.
  The scream that erupted from her was primal and frightening. Suddenly the man's hands were on her and something was jabbed into her neck. The world quickly started to fade out. Her last sight was of Commander O'Reilly slowly rousing from the water, pulling herself up on weak arms. Jayna wasn't sure if it was actually happening or if it was her quickly dwindling consciousness conjuring up the image. But it didn't matter. Within seconds, she was gone.

                                                                                          


  When she awoke she was falling! No, rising. The first thing she saw was the Royal Court below. She was in the air! She snapped awake and started screaming, she flailed her arms wildly but it did nothing. She was strapped into a harness. She could feel it now cutting into her shoulders and stomach. She was almost bent in half. She couldn't breathe! She tried to turn around, to re-shift herself but her body wouldn't respond. Partly due to the effects of whatever had been pumped into her, and partly as she had no experience navigating such a device. 
  Below, her city was in ruins. Smoke was everywhere: tendrils of white still rose from what remained of the barracks complex whilst wisps of filthy grey crept out of the Assembly Hall. It passed around her, blown by the wind that now whipped her hair around her face. Bodies lay scattered everywhere. Who belonged to which faction didn't matter, they were all anonymous broken shapes scattered in the streets and on the rooftops. 
  Around her, other bodies rose, these ones alive. Dozens of tiders hanging from harnesses or chutes, rising upwards alongside her. They cheered or shouted obscenities at her. She couldn't hear the words though as the great engines of the skyships above roared, obscuring almost everything but the wind that rocked her back and forth. Her body wanted desperately to sleep again but the terror kept her conscious. 
  She was being abducted. Ripped away from her home by the enemy. Tiders. Her greatest fear made real. She may have urinated then out of fear, but she wasn't sure. Her body functions, like the screams and tears that escaped her were almost a distant sensation through the haze of the drugs that were being quickly diluted by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 
  It was so far down.
  She did urinate then. Of that she was sure. The terror washing over her like a bucket of ice water. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. How many meters up was she? How many miles?
 She rose slowly, the sound of the engines smothering her. She shut her eyes, trying to ignore how high she was. She couldn't. She couldn't do anything but scream, cry and beg in senseless wails. 
  The harness jolted to a halt, pushing under her ribs. The sounds escaping her were momentarily cut off. Then he was rising slower. The wind gradually faded and the voices around her grew louder as she was drawn up into a large gloomy space. Her eyes looked around frantically, but her terrified mind couldn't make sense of it. Racks and rails and mechanisms.  A mess of harnesses, chutes, gimbals, weapons and lights. And tiders. So many tiders. She was suddenly drawn to the left and the harness bit into her. The view of the city below vanished and was replaced by filthy metal. She fell a few metres to the deck, hitting it hard. Then hands were on her, the straps immediately loosening. She didn't hear what the voice said. All she was aware of now that she had a hard surface under her was how much her body was shaking. The tremors rippling through her was like nothing she'd ever experienced. She must have been fitting, surely? No one could shake this much. Her chest hurt. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would burst from her chest. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't breathe. She gasped desperately but the air didn't want to go into her lungs. 
  The hands were still on her. She felt sick, she was going to vomit. She did. She heard laughter. She gasped, she couldn't breathe. She was choking. Everything overwhelmed her and the hangar started spinning, slowly turning black as the deck swam up to meet her.  
  Jayna vaguely felt the thud as her skull connected with the metal, but by then, she was already falling into unconsciousness. 

                                                                                                      


  When she came to again, the first thing she was aware of was the pain in her wrists and head. Before she opened her eyes she wiggled her hands and found that she couldn't. Her wrists were bound. She was laying on something cold and hard and her hands were bound behind her back. The panic rose up in a torrent and her senses seemed to return with a force that was almost overwhelming. She was cold and could feel an even colder wind. The taste in her mouth and along her upper lip meant she was bleeding from somewhere. Her crotch was sodden and the rest of her was clammy, the fear sweat and tears making her slick and her clothes stick to her. She could hear the chorus of voices and shouts. They were all around her, although she couldn't make out the words. Every growl and comment overlapped and drowned out the next. A symphony of terror. She wouldn't open her eyes though. That she would not do. She didn't want to look, didn't want to see where she was or what it would mean. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed long enough, it would all go away.
  Her breathing grew shallow again, quick, she tried to steady it but couldn't. Her entire body was shaking, through the cold or through the fear she didn't know. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again and she willed them away, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Except that she couldn't. The tears came. She felt them running downwards along one side of her face as she lay, silently praying for help. Praying for anyone. Praying for death. 
  She blinked the tears away, in the brief flashes of the scene around her she saw a crowd of men. Dozens of pairs of heavy boots surrounded her. She looked up at the faces. Filthy, scarred, tattooed faces. They smiled, they laughed, they drank, they made faces or hurled predatory abuse. Some of the men made obscene gestures or showed her their genitals. She closed her eyes again, trying desperately to shut them out. As if pretending that she wasn't in the midst of a tider crew would somehow make it so. 
  She thought of her childhood bedroom, the place she'd felt the most safe in all the world. But that only brought thoughts of her father and a fresh wave of tears erupted as the memory of what had just happened seemed to punch her. She folded in half on the deck, unleashing a wail. The sounds of the crowd were drowning her. She'd surely lose her mind. 
  And then it stopped, broken by a sharp and piercing whistle. Through the gloom of her closed eyelids she saw a change in light, and felt a sudden change in the breeze. 
  "Get her up!" a voice called from somewhere. 
  She was pulled by her wrists into a kneeling position, the binding tearing into the soft flesh of her forearms. The deck was uneven, and a rivet or bolt of some kind dug into her knee, she shifted away from it. 
  She braved another look and opened her eyes, her own lank hair hung in her vision in dark tangles, but she could see well enough. She was shaking still, her breathing never slowing down. She was dimly aware that she may be in shock, but had no way of knowing for sure. 
  A man appeared, parting the crowd as he approached her. He was slender, clad in a long dark coat that rippled in the wind. Jayna was suddenly aware of the vibration of the skyships engines underneath her, and she managed a brief look above at the seemingly infinite solar sails and rigging. Her worst fears were confirmed, she was on a tider skyship. Her thighs gave away but she was pulled upwards into position again. 
   The approaching man had Asian heritage and wore a charming smile. Behind him was a larger man, a powerhouse of a figure whose filthy ragged beard seemed the exact shade of his worn, colourless clothing. Jayna didn't think it was possible to be more afraid than she was, but upon the sight of the bigger man a fresh wave of sobbing escaped her. 
She knew who he was, and her heart almost stopped with dread right there and then. 
 The two men stood, and the crew around them had fallen into silence. The smaller man raised his arms and gestured around at the assembled crowd, raising his voice over the sounds of the wind and engines. 
  "Gentlemen! My assembled sunbeams! Temporary allies! Congratulations! Generations beyond us will tell stories of this momentous day! The victory that we attained here is unprecedented. To you all!" 
  A great cheer erupted from the crowd. Jayna flinched. 
  "An' this here, this here is the man we have to thank. The mastermind behind the greatest victory in tider history!"
  Another great wave of appreciation washed through the crew. 
  "She's all yours, Captain," the smaller man stepped aside and gestured the big man forwards with a mock bow.   
  The hulking shape stepped towards her slowly. Jayna looked down, focusing on the filthy deck in front of her and nothing more. She tried to restrain the sobs. They seemed tiny and helpless. She must have looked laughable. 
  "Heiress Jayna Suri," the voice said from above her. It sounded like sand on gravel. "Or is it Minister now?” 

  He pondered his own question for a moment. “No, not until the inauguration, that’s right isn’t it? So, Heiress - for now - it truly is an honour. I've never bin' in the presence of royalty before so do let me know if my etiquette is a little off."
  He knelt down in front of her, his meaty hand came towards her face and gently lifted her chin. She just about managed to meet his eyes, but quickly looked away again. 
  "Look at me," he said with no politeness whatsoever. 
  She did, still shaking with terror. Her head shook from side to side, her nerves shot, her body threatening to completely fail on her. The man looked at her with eyes that showed no compassion. A waxy burn mark surrounded his right eye, giving it a slight droop. 
  "My name is Locke Goodman, Heiress. Captain of the Ocean Ghost. Behind me is Captain Sky Jackson, this is his vessel, the Crimson Sunrise."
  "Unlike Captain Goodman I have had the pleasure of being around royalty, well, in royalty anyway." Sky barked out a laugh and his crew joined in. Locke tensed up with a fury that made Jayna recoil. His odour filled her nostrils and his musk almost seemed to change with the anger. 
  He suddenly stood, whirling around to face the group. 
  "Someone unbind her!" he roared. "We're not animals."
  Jayna's hands were suddenly loose and she fell forwards. The nasty red welts around her wrists seemed to shine against her pale, terror-stricken skin.
  "Kill me..." she managed to whisper between sobs. It was almost to herself, perhaps convincing herself that it would be the best path to take. Anything was preferable to what they would do to her. 
  Locke leaned down again, and came in close. His stench was overwhelming. 
  "What did you say?" he almost whispered.
  Jayna said nothing. With him this close to her, she was suddenly too afraid to speak. 
  Locke gently moved her back onto her knees, then took her hand and kissed it. His beard was surprisingly soft, and brushed against her hand like a feather. 
  "There, is that the thing to do?" he asked. "Or is that shit too ol' fashioned now?"
  Still, she said nothing. 
  "Heiress, make no mistake, you may be on Jackson's vessel, but you are my prisoner and I won't have you tied up like a...like a well cured ham. Hopefully by the time we get you back on the Ghost the treatment will be a little better."
  "I -" Jayna managed in a whimper.
  "Ah ah ah. I don't get interrupted. Ever. Now, I understand you're in shock, we did just murder most of ya' family an' associates, decimated ya' home and its military. So I'm gonna let that little indiscretion slide for now, you don't know no better. But don't do it again, understand?"
  Jayna nodded, it was tiny, hidden among the tremors of terror. 
  "Once we're back on my ship, this will all become clearer. You can get your bearings, and calm down a little. You'll be okay, you have my word on that."
  He handed her a dirty handkerchief from somewhere inside his coat, but she didn't take it. He merely grunted in response and stood up again, looming over her in a somewhat protective fashion.  
   "Who is the man who brought her to me? Step forwards." 
  When the man who killed her father stepped forward, Jayna couldn't look anymore. If she'd had to look at him again she thought she might throw herself overboard to avoid living with the memory. She feared her mind would break. 
  "I did. Name's Lawrence Sanchez. Crewmate of the Angel's Hurricane."  Even the sound of his voice caused Jayna’s body to weaken with more distress. 
  "Lawrence," Locke stepped forward and held out his hand. Lawrence shook it. "Once we rendezvous with the Ghost, speak to my Bo'Sun. You take anythin' from my ship you want. Your choice. Your reward. I can't thank you enough."
  "Thank you, Cap'n," Lawrence replied. Jayna heard the exchange through eyes pressed tight. 
  "Jackson, you got a private cell?" At the sound of Locke's voice Jayna opened her eyes again, her gaze unconsciously flitted to Lawrence and he blew her a kiss. She swallowed the revulsion in her throat. 
  "Plenty," the man called Sky said to Locke with a nod. They could have communicated in surftongue, but Jayna had the slow realization that they wanted her to understand everything they said. Wanted her to know what was coming. Somewhere under the fear she knew that she should be watching, listening, and trying to learn all she could. Somewhere under the terror she knew that she was in a rare position, but none of that was getting through. There was no place for logic or ordered thought amongst the sheer hysteria that was rattling through her body. 
   "Want me to post two guards?" Sky asked.  
   "Yeah, I don't want her to be disturbed. Or damaged or harmed in any way. We clear?"
   "You bet," Sky said with a smile. "Take her away." 
   He gestured to the unknown men behind her and Jayna was suddenly hoisted up. Two hands immediately grabbed her breasts with a force that wasn't accidental. 
   "I don't want her touched!" Locke roared. The hands loosened. 
   "I see you touch her again, you'll be walking on air!" Sky had a pistol pointed somewhere over Jayna's shoulder, presumably at the source of the putrid breath encroaching on her ear canal.
   There was a momentary quiet on deck. Sky's finger twitched over the trigger.
   Then the tension broke as he burst out laughing. 
   "Break out the casks!" he cried and the crew erupted into cheers. 
   Jayna was dragged through the raucous crowd, a muscular arm under each armpit. She looked around helplessly at the dozens of jeering, filthy faces - all of them laughing at her, celebrating her suffering. She was pulled backwards, paraded around for all of them to see. It was a nightmare. Surely she would wake up soon and discover that it was all a terrifying nightmare. 
   She was pulled into a gloomy corridor, forced down stairs, carried down another passageway and eventually thrown into a small cell that plunged her into blackness. 
   I'll wake up tomorrow and this will be over. This cannot be real. Any of it. 
  But of course it was. Crouched in the corner of a musty cell, Jayna wept, even as the gas started to pump through the vent. She was a prisoner, trapped on a tider ship at the mercy of every kind of depravity her mind could conjure up. 
  Parliament will send help, someone will know where I am. 
  It was a lie of course, one that she would tell herself over and over. She knew in her heart of hearts that help was not coming. How could it? No one would have any clue where she was. She'd be passed from ship to ship, moved from cell to cell. Eventually ending up in a place that she was too terrified to imagine.   
  She lay on the filthy, cold deck, covered in every kind of fluid her body could pass. It was the first of many, many nights that Jayna would spend a prisoner of tider forces; the first of many nights where only through crying and screaming her throat hoarse could she force her body into unconsciousness, hoping that eventually, she would never wake. 

014: ASHE - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 3

  The tider's head exploded in a cloud of red mist.
  Ashe felt the rifle's mechanism reload another round as he swept it around looking for his next target. Viewing the scene through the focused circle of a scope was, in its own way, a blessing. He didn't really have to watch the stream of tiders falling like raindrops on the grounds and walls of the Royal Court, nor did he have to watch what happened to the unfortunate civilians who may get in their way. It was a kind of ignorance that he welcomed. It was just him, the scope and a fast slug of hated firing whenever he deemed necessary.
  Sergeant Green had managed to rally four additional court guards for the rooftop defence operation, pulling them away from their evac and security duties. He'd briefly introduced them all but Ashe hadn't paid attention, he'd been too busy focusing every fibre of his mental capabilities into pushing the hangover away and making sure that his eyes and fingers would coordinate as necessary.
  Green had led them to a weapons locker and armed them all with long distance riot-control rifles and it had taken him and his team less than a minute to remove the non-lethal ammo modules and replace them with kill-fire mechanisms. Minutes later, their group of seven were on the roof and taking up cover positions along the south facing ledge. They looked out at the incursion: the ground defence being mounted below, the spires and walls of the Royal Court and Assembly Hall, and the three hovering death machines above. There was about a mile between them and the scene of carnage but the rifles were more than up to the task - equipped with weather sensors, self-compensating software and scope HUDs that would instruct the shooter to adjust their aim accordingly for the kill shot. 
  Ashe was positioned with Garvey on his left, and a guard whose name he couldn't remember on his right. All of them were linked with ear-buds that Green had provided, giving them some extra comms clarity over the sounds of weapon fire and skyship engines. With rifles mounted on the raised stone lip in front of them, the team could comfortably cover a south-south-east to south-south-west firing range. 
   The strategy was to take out as many tiders mid-drop as possible, if not in the air, then when they touched down on the rooftops and ledges, out of reach of any ground forces. They were dropping fast and would soon number at least three to four hundred. Ashe knew their group had no hope of taking out even a fraction of that number, but that didn't mean they wouldn't at least try. They had a duty after all. A damn duty. As always.
  "You ever gone shooting in pyjamas before, Corporal?" Garvey asked, firing off a shot.
  "Funnily enough Garvey, I have, but that really is a story worth telling over a beer when this is done." Ashe's finger squeezed the trigger again and a tider fell lifeless in his chute, hitting a tall spire and rolling downwards, the cute getting caught and suspending the corpse there.
  "Brannigan, on your left, two of them going for that pair of men down on that security platform," Green said in Ashe's ear.
   "I've got one if you have the other," the guard called Brannigan came back. Ashe heard the crack of their two shots, almost simultaneously.
  Through his own scope, Ashe saw a tider hit a rooftop and activate his chute pack, the cloud of beige material began reeling in on motorised rollers. Ashe assessed the stream of info on his HUD and moved off the target slightly to adjust for wind. He waited for the red LOCK prompt to appear before firing and the mass of beige canvas was suddenly spattered with gore as the bullet passed through the man's torso. 
   In the surrounding grounds of the Royal Court sporadic clusters of hoppers, lawmen, and court guards moved through the streets and arches, the flashes of gunfire visible from Ashe's sniping point. Hoppers - most in full combat armour, but some without - were still spilling out of the Assembly Hall, slowly thickening the thinly spread Capital forces, coordinating as best they could. Fewer and fewer tiders were making it to the ground before being cut down by swarms of armed men and women. Ashe moved his scope to the next wayward target and focused on the job at hand.     
   "The fact that the scumbags thought they could try this is nothing short of humourous, if it wasn't so tragic," Green said, popping off another shot.  
  "For the Capital!" Garvey yelled, putting a bullet in some distant body.
  "Enjoying combat, Garvey?" Ashe said dryly.
  "Sir," he responded meekly.
  "Easy when you're not down there," a guard said in Ash's earpiece. "All the fun, none of the danger."
  "I don't know," Ashe said taking aim. "I've been known to have a little fun every so often. Only thing that gets me through." The rifle recoiled against his shoulder. "Well, that and a lot of drink."
  He swung his rifle towards the Assembly Hall where a handful of tiders were now crawling over its surface like lice. They were attached to grapples and harnesses and were coordinating in surftongue. 
  "This cluster on the North side of the Assembly Hall, whatever they are doing, don't let them." Ashe blew one of them off the face of the building.
  "Roger that, Corporal," Green responded. He fired off a shot and another man fell dead. The group of tiders responded by changing tact and started scaling around to the south side, out of the range of fire. 
  "They're still coming downstairs," Ashe said. The hoppers below continued to fan down the front steps of the Assembly Hall, signalling orders to each other and seeking out the nearest enemy targets.  
  "There was some sort of conference being held in there," Green said over the radio. "The Cabinet meeting with the Admiralty or something, I didn't get a chance to watch much more before the alarm sounded." 
  "Depending on how this plays out, that's either incredibly fortuitous, or incredibly bad timing," Ashe replied. He tried taking aim at one of the grappling tiders but the man disappeared around a spire. A sudden fit of coughing made Ashe's next shot go wild and a small burst of debris fell from the roof where the rogue slug had hit. He spat out a ball of bloody phlegm and quickly peered at the scene below. The screaming and battle cries of the hopper forces were audible from where he lay. It was uncoordinated and undisciplined but it did bring a smile to his face. 
  This is our home fuckers. LOCK. Bang.
  "Corporal, are those frequency charges?" Garvey's voice came through in disbelief.
  "Where?" Ashe responded.
  "The cluster on the Hall?"
  Ashe swung his scope back to the tiders scaling the Hall spire's. Although most were out of sight, he saw one man remove a cylindrical device from his bag and hand it around the corner to his comrade. Once set, the frequency charges would vibrate with an intense sonic frequency that could crack concrete or stone. It was an alternate workaround to breaching a reinforced structure when traditional explosives wouldn't work. 
   "Damn it! Take them out! Hit the men or the charges, just don't let them set them!" LOCK. Bang. He fired off a shot and the tider with the bag full of charges fell limp in his harness. 
   "Where the hell did they get them?" Green asked, firing a shot and missing the charge. "That's Capital tech."
   Ashe filed the information away for later, it was definitely something worth reporting to his superiors. Another mystery to add to the mounting questions.
  The explosion was not enormous by any means, but more than audible over the sounds of battle. Ashe didn't see when one of the huge windows of the Assembly Hall collapsed inwards, but the cloud of dust and rubble that erupted from the south side of the building confirmed the breach.
  "Shit!" Green said as a fresh wave of tiders dropped from above aiming directly for the newly formed hole.
   "Take them out!" Ashe yelled with a less-than heroic cough, and the seven of them began firing off rounds as fast as they were able. In their urgency, they hit almost none of the falling men.  
   "Yes!" a surprised voice in Ashe's ear yelled. He was confused as the celebration seemed just a tad unwarranted given the heavy miss rate of their barrage. But when he looked up to check the scene, he saw a missile or mortar of some kind rocketing up from the ground in a trail of smoke and fire. Someone down below had obviously had the foresight to locate some mobile ground-to-air hardware. A second missile followed close behind. 
  "Come on, come on," Green almost willed. 
  The two projectiles were headed straight for one of the smaller skyships.
  Several cheers and woops assaulted Ashe's ear and he could hear an echo of the cries alongside him. He let out a cheer himself. 
  The third missile had barely left the cluster of buildings and towers below before the first two were destroyed mid-flight by one of the larger ships' point-defence cannons. The cries of celebration fell short just as the third rocket was taken out in another burst of gunfire, raining more fragments of fiery debris onto the scene below. 
  "We won't get through those PDC's," Ashe said with a croaky sigh. He coughed again. 
  "Can we take them out?" someone said, Ashe thought it may have been Brannigan. 
  "Negative," Ashe replied. "We'll need more than rifles to make a dent."
  In the distance two more rockets made their way pointlessly towards the three vessels. After they were taken down, all further attempts seemed to stop. 
  LOCK. Bang.
   Ashe managed to clip a parachuting tider in the leg, causing him to writhe in pain and trail off course.
  "McKenzie's down!" someone yelled.
  "Fall back" Green barked.
  Ashe looked up to see the guard two spaces to his right laying dead, the top of his head lay in pieces a few feet further away.
   Someone else yelled in pain. He thought it may have been Garvey.
  Green and two other guards were already up, ducking towards safer cover behind a ventilation shaft.
  Ashe had barely grabbed his rifle before a bullet grazed his arm. The sting coursed through his body in a wave and he fumbled with his weapon before tucking himself tighter into the ledge as a chip of tiling shot up and scraped his thigh.
  "They found us!" Garvey yelled. Ashe turned and saw him running towards the roof access door. He didn't look injured. The earlier yell couldn't have been him.
   Ashe peered out from his own hiding place towards the closest ship above, and saw the briefest of muzzle flashes from between the guard railings. He ducked in again as the bullet hit, inches away from his face.
  "Fall back inside," Green yelled. "We won't get through the railings!"
  "Sergeant!" Ashe yelled, it made his throat sting with agony. He was sure he felt something dislodge somewhere in his neck. The group were scattered, now pinned behind various shafts and industrial conduits, all except Ashe, who remained curled against the ledge, unable to move. "Rapid fire the fuckers!" The last few words vanished behind a fit of coughing.
  "Brannigan, Garvey, set to rapid! Cover Marvel!"
  "Yes, Sergeant," Brannigan replied.
   The two men set their rifles to rapid fire and laid them on their cover positions with an approximate aim at the skyship above. The sounds of immediate gunfire ripped through the air and Ashe focused on nothing but the open door sitting between two pulsing flashes of muzzle-fire. He tried to take several deep breaths, but found he couldn't. His breathing was laboured and shallow. He was poisded, terrified.
  "Go, Marvel, now!" Greens voice screamed so loudly in the earbud that it hurt Ashe's ear. But he was up, running. He zig-zagged towards the access door. Garvey left his weapon firing and rolled, scrambling towards the door. Ashe saw a spurt of blood emerge somewhere from Garvey's torso and the man screamed in pain. Ashe launched himself over the mans writhing body into the stairwell and collided with the wall, falling down a few steps before catching himself with the bannister. 
  Above him, Green was in, dragging Garvey through the doorway as another two slugs connected with his lower body. Garvey was crying, but crying meant he was still alive at least.
  Ashe clambered up to help, but fell back. Too weak to move. Caught up in another coughing fit. Two more shrieks of pain came through his earbud and he pulled it out, throwing it to the floor. 
  Footsteps raced past him. He saw two pairs of boots run down the stairs. Heard the slam of a door. Saw the slowly growing pool of what he assumed was Garvey's blood soaking into his hospital pyjamas. 
  He heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart in his ears. The clenching of his gut warned him of the rising tide of vomit moments before it passed through his burning throat. As the hot liquid fell through the gaps in the stairs, he was pushed aside as another guard passed him. He didn't know what had happened, or who was hurt or who was dead. All he knew was that he had made it and that he was safe.   
  Outside, another foghorn echoed throughout the Capital, two more horns blared in response. There were a handful of slight tremors as something exploded in the distance.
  It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was alive.
  Ashe Marvel had beaten the odds, yet again.

013: MARINA - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 3

   The Assembly Hall was the largest chamber in the Royal Court proper. Used primarily for public addresses, press conferences, weddings, funeral services, coronations and any other large scale public event related to the ruling electorate. The hall was an opulent space, made of stone, wood, and concrete, all sculpted and carved into entwined images of rulers past, Lemurias's history and ornate geometric patterns. The grand altar at the front, which sat under bullet-and-bomb proof stained glass windows gave the hall the appearance of an ancient church or cathedral but the lack of any specific religious denomination in the architecture negated any connotations with particular faiths. Alongside the bowels of the Royal Court Chambers, the Assembly Hall was the most secure building in the entire city.
  Marina had been in the hall only once before, as part of the military procession for Lord Willyam Suri's funeral, back when Marina had been a freshly promoted Corporal. Minister Suri's father had passed away at the age of one hundred and twelve and although the man had never been the Capital's ruler - that had fallen to his wife, Elaina - his passing had sent the whole of Equatorial District into mourning. Representatives from all the other royal families had sailed or flown in from across the continent and onlookers and mourners had formed crowds that stretched from the Assembly Hall all the way out through the Inner and Outer Courts to the fringes of the Capitals central districts. Everyone had been glued to either their datapads or the large screens that were mounted all over the city to watch the procession from beginning to end. The media had reported on it for a full ten days and Marina had caught herself on over a hundred screens in thousands of different video feeds over the course of the coverage.
  She remembered being incredibly nervous; focusing on marching, keeping rhythm, holding her rifle in the correct position and seemingly using the rest of her willpower not to look at the crowds. She'd never felt more exposed in all her life. Nobody had been paying the slightest bit of attention to her of course, but with only three minor engagements under her belt, it had been the first real time she'd felt how visible her position could make her. She'd still been very green around the gills and the prospect of being scrutinised had unnerved her a great deal.
  Now here she was in the hall once again. Two ranks and six years later with dozens of engagements and a handful of tours under her belt. Hundreds of kills too. She was in more physical and emotional pain than she'd ever remembered being in and she'd lost almost everything in the space of three days. She felt worn down to almost nothing. The eager, nervous soldier clutching her ceremonial rifle in nervous terror now seemed lifetimes away. 
  The hall was full of military and government personnel. Regents, officials and high ranking officers alike. Minister Suri stood at the altar, Heiress Suri stood nearby, next to a small cluster of Regents and Vice Regents. Keroni was among them, the rest Marina didn't know. Scattered along the raised platform were a handful of Colonels - including Renshaw - and on the Minister's immediate right stood District Admiral Thaddeus Knox, commander and overseer of the entire Capital Hopper Force. On his left, Vice Minister Powell. Despite the assembly of such distinguished and powerful people, and the presence of several vidcaster crews, the entire thing felt loose and informal. Hastily assembled. Which Marina knew it had been. It was part public address and part large scale military command meeting.
   She stood among the gathered collection of specialists and military personnel that had been summoned to the chamber. The hoppers numbered a few hundred and wore a mix of combat armour, fatigues, and civilian clothes - all summoned by the alert regardless of what activity or position they'd been in the middle of. Marina studied as many rank pins as he could and couldn't see any soldier under the rank of Lieutenant Commander. She assumed then that everyone present was a ranking officer capable of overseeing command. The gathering was a show of force, a reassurance to the people watching that they were still protected and that the city was still united.
  Laid out along the sides of the hall were tables of food and drink. Ration packs, hot and cold beverages, fruit and collections of simple pastries and breads had been gathered as both comfort after the crisis and necessary sustenance for those who'd been working the night through. A medical station has been set up also and after requesting painkillers and a shot of stimulants Marina had helped herself to some oat crackers and a handful of angel fruit. She didn't think her stomach could cope with much else, but she hadn't eaten since before the Swan and knew her body needed fuel. She forced what she now considered her late breakfast down with a bottle of cool water.
   Minister Suri was addressing the assembled crowd. He looked worn out and from what Marina could see, a little scared, but the man maintained composure, clarity and confidence.
  " - can now confirm that it is in fact an attack, the magnitude of which has never been witnessed before. From where and by whom, we are not yet willing to disclose, nor are we willing to confirm any rumoured connection to the tider attack on First Province. Our intelligence is still sifting through evidence. Footage still needs to be assessed, simulations still need to be run but we are almost certain that this was a hostile action against our Capital. A terrorist attack designed to compromise our safety, security and way of life." 
   The crowd murmured slightly but there was otherwise no reaction. They were after all politicians and soldiers, the news did not surprise them. The Minister continued after a moment, letting the news sink in. More for the people watching the footage at home than those in the room.
  "Our current estimates put the casualties somewhere in the region of fifteen hundred. Of that number we think that estimate is a fairly even split between hoppers and civilians alike. Those casualties have resulted from the initial explosion through to secondary injuries and the like. Again, forensics and more evidence will clarify this as we sift through the debris. The Cabinet have been working closely through the night with the rescue services who are updating all details and information pertaining to the barracks incident in real time. Our hearts are with those lost, and to those who have lost."
  Marina felt a fresh wave of sadness and despair trying to rear its head and she shut it down as quickly as it came. She focused on nothing else but the gold sash of office the Minister wore, using the gently shimmering pattern as a kind of hypnotic distraction. Focusing on the man's words and not her own pain.
  "Make no mistake that the Capital will be offering the fullest support to all those affected by last night. You are our people. They were our people. Brave men and women. Innocent families and children who did not deserve such horrific and senseless deaths." Minister Suri fixed his stare on the one camera that was pointed directly at him. His voice suddenly took on a different tone, more controlled, but more measured. More threatening.
  "This was a warning," he said simply. "A warning that these individuals intend to unbalance our way of life. To unbalance democracy and peace. And to them I offer my own warning. You cannot win. You cannot bring down what is stronger. We are Equatorial District -  nay, Equatorial Upper - our entire continent is united in the idea of progress and peace. We will not fall today. Nor tomorrow. Nor any time after that. We will protect our people, and protect the ideals that our ancestors laid down when they first set foot on this world. Thank you. Justice, Ever Forwards."
  A round of applause resounded through the hall. Amongst the clapping Marina could see court guards politely escorting the media crews and vidcasters to the front entrance. The public display was done, what came next would be for the ears of the city's command and government only.
  "Thank you everyone," Minister Suri continued when the cameras were clear. He raised his hand but waited patiently for the applause to die down. 
  Marina briefly caught eyes with Heiress Suri, she was casually scanning the crowd and noticed Marina in her position about halfway back. She smiled sadly, Marina nodded in acknowledgment. Heiress Suri too looked tired and restless, and like her father and the rest of the officials, the effort to appear refreshed and confident for the public could not hide how exhausted and anxious they were. Only Keroni looked like himself, his shrewd heavy lidded eyes taking in every word spoken and every detail in the room.
  Minister Suri continued. "Given the events of the last few days, measures have to be taken until we can be sure that the threat to our home is either extinguished, or brought to justice. This will require a somewhat radical approach moving forwards, but it is important that we reassure the citizens of this great city that they are safe, and that threats like last night will not happen again. District Admiral Knox, if you will."
  Minister Suri stepped aside, gesturing Knox to the platform. There was no applause, just a general sense of tensing up in the space as the officers were caught between standing at attention or remaining at ease. Some saluted, some didn't. Some straightened up, some didn't, Marina chose to remain in the position she'd settled in over the last thirty minutes - a sort of casual sideways lean that seemed to be the only way her body didn't ache. The casual nature of the assembly made protocol feel secondary.
  District Admiral Knox briefly adjusted the microphone before he began speaking.
 "No need for formalities, please at ease." The room relaxed. Knox was a tall, slender man in his late seventies, but still solid. Decades out of the field hadn't softened him, unlike Renshaw. His features, although bearing a warmth, were symmetrical and hard, almost like they were carved out of clay. Marina had only ever seen him in person three times, but had never gotten the chance to meet or speak with the man directly.
  "The events of last night, coupled with the loss of many hopper lives among others at First Province forces us to reassess our military position in the Capital. It's been nearly a century since any external force has made a direct threat towards our way of life on our own soil. With the deliberate strike against our military forces designed to cripple our infrastructure, coupled with civil unrest elsewhere on the continent - rumoured province cessations and the like - a clear picture is being formed that our way of life is under threat and that our duties to this nation, its government and its people must change to reflect this status quo.
  After an emergency assembly with the Admiralty and the Cabinet it has been decided that a heightened hopper presence is necessary in all areas of the city. We will be holding a public press conference in due course to inform the populace of this. Everyone of you gathered in this room, as commanding officers of the Hopper Force will soon be issued new orders and an assigned squad and sector. We will be a constant round the clock presence and deterrent to any further incursions until further notice."
  "Martial law, Sir!?" a voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd.
  Knox stopped talking, his glare scanning the area the voice came from.
  "The people of this city will still have freedom of movement to live their lives as expected. There will be no curfews or inspections. We are not a police state."
  Dress it up how you like, Admiral, that sounds like martial law, Marina thought. If the outburst had unfooted Knox or made him angry, he gave no sign. He continued his address to the hall.
 "But perhaps we will be a tad more liberal in our public declaration," the biting sarcasm came through and Marina knew Knox would make it a priority to seek out the owner of the voice and discipline them accordingly. "We have put out calls to Havenmere, New Verona, Kamdentown and Orisa Shire to request any additional military support they can lend us without compromising their own hopper forces until such a time we can replenish our own lost troops. I've been informed that Regent Rider is already setting much wider testing and recruitment plans into motion although naturally this will take a few weeks - " he paused as various beeps and alarms resounded throughout the hall. Knox paused, momentarily taken aback before he, like everyone else with access to one in the hall, checked his datapad.
  Marina knew by the flashing red and black screens all around her what her datapad was alerting her to before she'd even read the words. The noise in the hall was instant - voices yelling in panic and anger.  
  "Hold your positions for orders please!" Knox bellowed over the microphone before switching it off and turning to the assembled officials behind him.
  Marina looked down at her cracked device. The red and black pulsing message confirming the worst. An incursion on the Capital. Tiders in Capital airspace.
  It made no sense. Tider airships were long gone. Scuttled, sunk, or in museums, and if none of those, then never venturing this far inland to be catastrophically outgunned. Outgunned. Turrets! Tiders in airspace - city defence turrets. Her mind connected the dots so quickly that she almost couldn't keep up.
  She moved through the crowd, through the shouts and bravado. Hundreds of soldiers gearing up for a fight. Over the sea of voices Marina heard an angry horn resound from somewhere outside and the voices around her picked up in response.
   Behind the alter, Minister Suri and the assembled officials and officers spoke heatedly, some yelling into their datapads, others yelling at each other. As Marina shoved her way closer, occasionally getting an elbow or hand jabbed into her aching chest, she got a clearer sense of what was happening on stage. A conflict between the military and Parliament, a head-butting of jurisdictional authority.
  The turrets hadn't fired. She didn't need the absence of gunfire outside to tell her that. The men and women on stage knew it too. The defences were down. Incapacitated by whatever override had turned the guns at First Province on their own people. If the same thing happened again, they had minutes, seconds even before the dozen heavy cannons started massacring thousands of people outside.
  Another horn blared, this one closer.  
  The answering roars of passing ASV engines overhead caused the barest of vibrations throughout the building before sudden sporadic bursts of cheering and trash talking resounded around the room.
  And then, after the briefest booms of heavy turret fire, the first explosion happened.
  The hall fell silent. The continuing sounds of gunfire outside as the capital aircraft were ripped apart mid-flight by the very weapons meant to protect them made only clearer. It was the second explosion and screaming descent of a burning engine that kicked the hall into pandemonium. Nobody waited for orders. Hundreds of hoppers charged towards the hall's entrance. The cacophony of men and women screaming in aggression and unity was almost deafening.
   The court guards manning the entrance couldn't hold them back, nor could the three narrow, securely barricaded passages. The guards managed to unlock the turnstiles and blast doors, but it wasn't enough, it caused a bottle neck. Too many people trying to fit through too small a space. It was unclear who was running to defend their city from the threat or who was running to find cover from it.
  What are they doing? Marina screamed to herself. It was almost as if years of training and experience had fallen by the wayside. It was a free-for-all. Hundreds of angry men and women heading out to take undisciplined vengeance on those who dared encroach on their territory.
  Marina headed towards the stage alongside several dozen others, where the officers were barking orders at the Suri's and Regents. Renshaw was already attempting to usher everyone offstage with his bulk. Protecting the electorate and parliamentary body was the first priority in the event of an enemy incursion and there were numerous entrances and tunnels to the secure panic rooms all over the Royal Court, and the Assembly Hall was no exception.
  Marina knew that she was in no condition for combat, so she would aid where necessary, ensuring the safety and security of the parliament that she served.
  Her foot caught on something slippery on the floor and she went down, trying to control her roll as best she could. Her shoulders and back cried out in pain but she was already being helped up before she could make a sound.
  "Watch out for the fruit, Ma'am." Graves flashed a grin and she pulled Marina upright.
  "Graves -"
  "Lost you after the bar, glad you're okay. We need to get everyone to safety."
  "Kal...he was in -"
  Graves shook Marina firmly.
  "Not now. Put it aside. We need to survive this first. They need to survive this first." She pointed to the stage. "Then we grieve. Move."
  They reached the stage behind several other commanding officers, it was already half empty, the group were being ushered by court guards down a side tunnel.
  Heiress Suri, surrounded by four guards, took a quick look back and caught Marina through the rabble. She turned back.
  "Commander O'Reilly!" she called. She headed towards Marina and was pushed aside by a Vice Admiral Marina didn't know.
  "Await orders, soldier, " he barked.
  Marina was aware of a struggle as the Heiress fought past her guards.
   "You will wait until I say otherwise!" she shouted.  
  The men yelled a halt and the procession stopped, Minister Suri peered out from the tunnel entrance and started pushing his way back through.
  "Commander," the Heiress said.
  "Heiress," Marina nodded politely.
  "This is what happened at First Province, is it not?"
  "Not quite, My Lady, but we were right to expect a chain attack. The tiders have -"
  The explosion was deafening. Chunks of stone and shards of glass rained down into the hall. Marina looked up to see one of the windows, still in its surrounding frame  plummet towards the ground -  the remains of high yield explosives hanging from the ledge.
  There was no time to react before dozens of tiders on harnesses and parachutes dropped into the hall in a hail of bullets and grenades.
  "You go!" someone yelled. A Regent was pushed so hard he fell. Someone else hurried to pick him up. Marina was swept up in the procession, not helped by Heiress Suri having a firm grip on Marina's hand. There were voices all around, she couldn't make out anything. Admirals and Colonels and officers and even government personnel turned back to deal with the tider threat.
  "Commander!" Marina made out Graves's voice over everything else. "You get them to safety!"
 Marina saw a wave of auburn hair turn towards the gunfire, and then she was moving into the dim light of the protective tunnel, far away from the ensuing chaos.

012: ASHE - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 3

  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."