infiltrate the base.
I’m steps into the next corridor when a wave of hot air hits me, heavy with the scent of char. It’s hard to see through all the smoke and ash, but then I realize where that smoke and ash has come from. The Mogs in this hallway must have been completely annihilated. Whoever’s attacked us isn’t pulling any punches and is obviously trying to inflict as much damage as possible.
I follow the shouts and gunfire as I jog through the tunnels, but the combination of my metal form and my being used to flying everywhere keeps my pace pretty slow. By the time I make it to the vast main room, it’s easy to see the route the intruders have taken; there are piles upon piles of ash strewn about the big hall. The space has devolved into utter chaos as the injured cry for help and the monstrous beasts that have escaped from their pens trample Mog soldiers who’ve been caught completely by surprise. I pause to try to figure out which direction the attackers went, then realize that there’s an easier way than trying to follow the ash trails: there are tons of pikens running, crawling, and flying towards one side of the compound, chasing something. So I fall in alongside them, rushing towards the detention cells.
Detention cells. Is this some kind of rescue attempt?
I take a chance and fly up to the corridor that leads to the cells. I think I hear someone shouting my name behind me, but when I look back, it’s just a mass of feathers as birdlike creatures flap past me. So I continue on, and there, turning a corner at the end of the detention hallway, is Nine, followed by someone I’ve seen before. Someone I recognize from Mog reports about the incidents in Paradise.
Number Four.
The two Garde run out of view, and there’s a distant rumble of rock cracking and falling. I clench my fists at my sides. Of course they’ve screwed everything up. I spent years— years —on a deserted island without so much as a hello from any other Loric, but I come to the one place the Loric should be steering clear of—the home base of their sworn enemies—and I meet two of them.
A part of me wonders if they know I’m here. If they know what today meant for me. And if they’ve ruined all of it on purpose, as one final joke on pitiful Number Five, who they all thought would rot on a beach somewhere.
There’s a squad of Mogs reaching the top of the stairs to my right. They run after me as I jet through the hallway, but the path Nine and Four disappeared down is now blocked, collapsed in on itself—no doubt due to Four’s or Nine’s Legacies. My mind races as I try to remember other ways that the tunnels connect and where we might head them off. Behind me, a dozen or so Mogs from all over the compound regroup. I listen to their conversations as I try to figure out my next move. They’ve managed to capture one of the intruders. He’s a human. A teenager. Reports are that Four is the only other assailant, not counting Nine.
The prisoners.
I turn to the Mogs and immediately start barking orders. This is my time to shine.
“You three,” I say, waving to a small huddle of soldiers. “Find any other escaped prisoners. The rest of you, come with me. We’re going to cut the intruders off at the pass.”
There’s hesitancy in their faces.
“Look around you,” I continue. “We are under attack, and I am the only person even close to being a commander in sight. If you don’t move immediately, you’ll be answering to our Beloved Leader for your treason when he arrives.”
They all nod to me at once. Several salute.
Ethan approaches from the corridor. He’s out of breath but looks pleased with what I’m doing. As the Mogs move out, he tosses me an earpiece communicator, pointing to another one in his ear.
“In case we get separated,” he says.
“I thought you were going to take cover.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I want to see if all that training has paid off.”
I grin and then shoot through
I’m steps into the next corridor when a wave of hot air hits me, heavy with the scent of char. It’s hard to see through all the smoke and ash, but then I realize where that smoke and ash has come from. The Mogs in this hallway must have been completely annihilated. Whoever’s attacked us isn’t pulling any punches and is obviously trying to inflict as much damage as possible.
I follow the shouts and gunfire as I jog through the tunnels, but the combination of my metal form and my being used to flying everywhere keeps my pace pretty slow. By the time I make it to the vast main room, it’s easy to see the route the intruders have taken; there are piles upon piles of ash strewn about the big hall. The space has devolved into utter chaos as the injured cry for help and the monstrous beasts that have escaped from their pens trample Mog soldiers who’ve been caught completely by surprise. I pause to try to figure out which direction the attackers went, then realize that there’s an easier way than trying to follow the ash trails: there are tons of pikens running, crawling, and flying towards one side of the compound, chasing something. So I fall in alongside them, rushing towards the detention cells.
Detention cells. Is this some kind of rescue attempt?
I take a chance and fly up to the corridor that leads to the cells. I think I hear someone shouting my name behind me, but when I look back, it’s just a mass of feathers as birdlike creatures flap past me. So I continue on, and there, turning a corner at the end of the detention hallway, is Nine, followed by someone I’ve seen before. Someone I recognize from Mog reports about the incidents in Paradise.
Number Four.
The two Garde run out of view, and there’s a distant rumble of rock cracking and falling. I clench my fists at my sides. Of course they’ve screwed everything up. I spent years— years —on a deserted island without so much as a hello from any other Loric, but I come to the one place the Loric should be steering clear of—the home base of their sworn enemies—and I meet two of them.
A part of me wonders if they know I’m here. If they know what today meant for me. And if they’ve ruined all of it on purpose, as one final joke on pitiful Number Five, who they all thought would rot on a beach somewhere.
There’s a squad of Mogs reaching the top of the stairs to my right. They run after me as I jet through the hallway, but the path Nine and Four disappeared down is now blocked, collapsed in on itself—no doubt due to Four’s or Nine’s Legacies. My mind races as I try to remember other ways that the tunnels connect and where we might head them off. Behind me, a dozen or so Mogs from all over the compound regroup. I listen to their conversations as I try to figure out my next move. They’ve managed to capture one of the intruders. He’s a human. A teenager. Reports are that Four is the only other assailant, not counting Nine.
The prisoners.
I turn to the Mogs and immediately start barking orders. This is my time to shine.
“You three,” I say, waving to a small huddle of soldiers. “Find any other escaped prisoners. The rest of you, come with me. We’re going to cut the intruders off at the pass.”
There’s hesitancy in their faces.
“Look around you,” I continue. “We are under attack, and I am the only person even close to being a commander in sight. If you don’t move immediately, you’ll be answering to our Beloved Leader for your treason when he arrives.”
They all nod to me at once. Several salute.
Ethan approaches from the corridor. He’s out of breath but looks pleased with what I’m doing. As the Mogs move out, he tosses me an earpiece communicator, pointing to another one in his ear.
“In case we get separated,” he says.
“I thought you were going to take cover.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I want to see if all that training has paid off.”
I grin and then shoot through
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