Pathros Ascending — Chapter 4

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Chapter 4 – Death in the Murk

There is a great power in the murk. It sustains the dragons: empowers them. To men, though, it afflicts them. The murk restricts us on this world. We are caged into our cities by the churning sea of gases. While on countless worlds, we have done as we please, moving about freely, on Pathros, the murk is in control. The dragons are the only ones who move about freely.

That is, the dragons, and those men who sacrifice a part of their humanity.

-Dr. Lyle Chastre, Studies of “Ascension”

Pathros – Tinral Bunker

Wednesday, 13^th Day of the 4^th Cycle, 3579 A.D.

“Officer Markham, reporting,” Cleon said into his radio as he dismounted from the back of his green-scaled dragon, Levene. Although he was not five yards away to the one he addressed the combination of his mask and the way murk muffles sound made it much easier to just speak into his radio.

“Welcome, Cleon,” was Garlan’s response, his voice gruff. Cleon’s close friend and superior was a large man, standing at over six feet tall, his shoulders broad. His armor only magnified his appearance. “Good to see you here. How did the Negotiations go?”

As Cleon strode forward and took Garlan’s hand in a firm shake, he answered, “It went well. Quite well. We took minimal casualties, and House Vandell was obliged to accept our offer.”

Breaking off the handshake, in order to give the younger Dragoon a hearty clapping on the shoulder, “Well done, boy! You’re good, just like your father.”

“Let’s hope I can do better than my father,” Cleon suggested. The tone of voice he used prevented Garlan from saying any more about Cleon’s father. “House Mallary had no cavalry, though. They hardly put up a fight.”

“Is that so, eh? Well, the situation we’ve got right now oughtta give us a good challenge.”

“What exactly is the situation?”

“I’ll give you more details when Jackson arrives, but for now, it looks like we’ll be taking on some wild dragons.”

Cleon perked up at that comment. It wasn’t often that he got to deal with wild dragons.

“Just this morning, Harvesting Facility J-7 was attacked by a swarm of frenzied dragons. They said there were over a hundred of them. Everyone who wasn’t up in the elevated bunker or the refinery was taken out. We’re the clean-up crew.”

Over a hundred of them!

“Stars, thats a lot of dragons!”

“Sure is. Nobody knows what caused it. Nothing like that has ever happened before.”

There were a few moments of silence, the two dragoons standing atop the Tinral bunker, the murk swirling around their armored forms. Cleon watched it with the same wonder he always had. Most of the colors were blended together, but here and there he could make out a strand of one, distinct color. A stream of orange gas swam around Garlan’s legs, while a silver one spiraled through the air to the left. Before him, green aiexyn hung in the air, reminding him of what had happened only a few hours earlier.

“I felt something, today, at the Negotiations, , ,”

“Hmm?” grunted Garlan with a tone of curiousity.

“It was a. . . pulsing,” Cleon searched for words to describe what he had experienced. “A pulsing in my veins, that seemed to fill my whole body.”

“Ah.”

“Do you think it’s . . ?”

“Sounds like it. Sounds like you’re close to finding it.”

Before their conversation could continue, they were interrupted by a voice on their radios, “Officer Jackson, reporting!”

Looking to his left, Cleon watched as a slender, blue-scaled dragon swooped down a landed deftly before them. Another dragoon, armor-clad, dismounted, and walked up to Garlan, extending his arm for a handshake. Garlan accepted, saying, “Good to see you, Jackson. How was your day off?”

“Oh, it was great! Got to spend time with the kids, watch some thunderball, and I even found time to clean out my guns.”

The small-talk continued for a moment, until Garlan began briefing them on their mission.

“Harvesting Facility K-7, located 23.4 kilometers from this bunker, was attacked, this morning, by a frenzied horde of dragons. The actual number of dragons is unconfirmed, but there is estimated to be close to one hundred and fifty. The dragons ransacked the facility, destroying everything except for the elevated bunker and the refinery.

“Our mission is to clear out the dragons. We don’t know yet how many of them are airborne or not, but we suspect there are a number of them. Cleon, you will be responsible for taking care of the airborne dragons. Jackson, you will take care of the dragons on the surface, while I hunt down whichever ones are in the Cracks. Cleon or Jackson, whichever of you is finished first, help the other out. When both the airborne and surface dragons are taken care of, move down into the Cracks to help me out. I can expect the hunt in the Cracks to take a while. Any questions?”

Cleon glanced at Jackson, who shrugged, then said, “None, sir.”

“Good. Now, Cleon, I’ve got something for you,” informed Garlan, as he walked over to his own dragon, a large, orange and black-scaled beast. Strapped to the saddle was a large, backpack-like object. The old veteran unstrapped it, then carried it over to Cleon, with an ease that could only be credited to the vermilion he was pumping.

Is there ever a time you aren’t pumping, Garlan?

Brushing aside that thought, Cleon excitedly accepted the pack.

“Your Burst-Pack,” stated Garlan, although it wasn’t necessary. “Reems just finished the repair-job yesterday. Should be as good as new, now.”

“Nice! Good to have this back!”

“Yeah, it should come in handy with this particular mission. Just be careful with it, though. I don’t wanna see you pulling the same stunts that got it broken in the first place.”

“Oh, come on, Garlan, those stunts did the job.”

“Yeah, but they also sent you through a wall. You had to pump a lot of sanguine to recover from that impact.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll watch out,” said Cleon in acquiescence, although he wasn’t sure he really meant it.

The three soldiers mounted their dragons, then took took off in a flurry of scaled wings. The flight wouldn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes. During the time before combat, Cleon liked to watch the murk. Soaring through the aiexyn gases, the colors passed by quickly. Occasionally, a wisp of colored murk would trail behind, caught in the wake of the beating of Levene’s wings. The gases danced around Cleon’s face, which was only protected by his mask. Levene’s face was unprotected. Her whole form was unprotected. She didn’t need it. No dragon did. No native of Pathros did.

Rather than harming her, the gases sustained her life. Through her mouth and her slitted nostrils, she breathed in the gases. In addition to oxygen, aiexyn flowed through her veins. Aiexyn flowed through the veins of every creature native to Pathros – every creature labeled as a dragon. Special organs, unique to the dragons of Pathros, processed the aiexyn, changing it to the liquid aiex. That aiex, just like the aiex that Cleon pumped into his veins, gave the dragons their powers. Unlike the way Cleon used aiex, it was a natural process for dragons. In addition, the powers were far greater. The electrically charged cloud that Levene had breathed out earlier that day was drawn from the aiex that she had previously breathed in. Of course, as it was azure aiexyn gas that she was breathing in at the Negotiations, it was far less powerful than it would have been had she been breathing in emerald aiexyn.
“Hey,” came Jackson’s voice on the radio, “Are there going to be any of the local guards there to help out?”

“No,” was Garlan’s reply. “Apparently almost all of them died in the initial attack, and House Giles, who owns the Facility, doesn’t wanna lose anymore.”

“So they send in us,” commented Cleon.

“House Crayn doesn’t want anyone to think that they don’t look out for their Contracts, so of course they call for the cavalry.”

“Well, hey, we do the best job, anyway.”

“Sure do,” agreed Jackson.

For the rest of the flight, they rode in relative silence. Cleon resumed his observance of the murk. As they drew closer to the Harvesting Facility, he noticed that the murk shifted from its myriad of colors, to a predominantly purplish hue.

Fuchsia. Fun stuff, he thought. I can imagine that it only added to the pandemonium of the attack.

All aiexyn gases had some adverse effect. In the Negotiations, where azure aiexyn was dominant, the gases were like a cooling agent. No, a freezing agent. Cleon could still recall the image of the soldier whose headgear had been broken, the frost forming on his face after only a few moments of exposure. Azure was physically dangerous. Fuchsia was a psychological threat.

Fuchsia aiexyn gases affected the nerves. Simply being exposed to fuschia left one quite jumpy; inhaling fuchsia induced paranoia. The murksuit that Cleon wore granted protection from the murk. Anyone who dared go out into the murk would be foolish not to wear a murksuit. It was a given that everyone at the facility was wearing a murksuit, but in their last moments, part of their murksuit could have been detached, or broken. Cleon could only imagine the scene: people facing the some of the most ferocious creatures in the known galaxy, cowering in fear as a dragon’s claw tears a hole in their murksuit, and their fear is suddenly magnified a hundredfold.

The thought almost gave Cleon the chills. Fortunately for him, and any other Dragoon, pumping Fuchsia had the opposite effect: calming the mind and lessening fear.

In due time, they arrived at Harvesting Facility J-7. Through the murk, with eyes enhanced by silver aiex, Cleon could make out the form of the facility. Massive ultrasteel columns rose upward in the murk, like the legs of giants. At the top of those columns above the murk, was the Elevated Bunker, a safe place for emergencies. The Tinral Bunker, where the dragoons had rendezvoused, was one of hundreds that dotted the dangerous planet. Those bunkers were meant as a safe haven, a rest stop, for travelers. The bunker here was only for emergencies.

Above the bunker was the refinery. There, the aiex that was harvested in the Cracks below was processed. Some of it was separated into basic chemicals, to be used for a variety of things. Some of it was diluted with a special solution and then used by dragoons like Cleon. The work done in those refineries, and down in the cracks, was the most valuable work in the galaxy. The most lucrative, too.

“Activate your sensory equipment now,” ordered Garlan through the radio.

Cleon was planning on doing it in a moment anyhow, and he obeyed. The visor on his mask, which always showed a variety of numbers, readings, indicating things about his murksuit, but when he switched on the sensory equipment, his visor was filled with many more. In addition, he could see shadows now.

Shadows were the only kind of sensory methods that worked in the murk. Cleon didn’t understand exactly how they worked, but the traced lines around things that moved. The lines were sketchy, though, and in addition to not always being accurate, they didn’t last long. Generally, Cleon would just put his trust in Levene’s senses, as well as what he could see while pumping silver, but in a situation like this one, where there were bound to be dragons on all sides, it was best to tap into every resource.

Shadows danced through the murk all over the facility. Pink lines rendered in his visor traced the forms of dozens of dragons. Most of them were on the ground below, but Cleon could see a number of them in the air. Those were his targets.

“Alright, boys, you know the plan. Cleon, airborne. Jackson, surface, and I’ll hunt out the Cracks,” reminded Garlan.

“Yeah, we know, and Markham and I will help each other out before going into the Cracks with you.”

“That’s right. Now, go!”

With those words, the three warriors split. Jackson and Garlan veered downward, while Cleon veered towards the nearest shadow. Pumping a few different colors of aiex, Cleon drew his blade, ready for battle.

He caught the first dragon by surprise. It was a smaller one, not half the size of Levene. It had a bird-like form, its wings trailing toxic gases. Levene knew well enough to keep her distance from the dragon’s defensive features, and she fried it from a distance with her electric breath.

Wasting no time, Cleon steered her to the left, in the direction of the next dragon. This one saw them ahead of time, and lashed at Levene with its bladed tail. Cleon’s dragon evaded it with skill, then struck back like lightning. Her powerful jaws clasped around its serpentine body, rending flesh and crushing bone. In agony it writhed around, its tail lashing out again. A swift strike from Cleon’s blade sent the sharp section of the tail sailing through the murk, detached from the rest of its body. Another bite from Levene crushed its head and ended its life.

These dragons weren’t giving much of a fight. Likely, though, it was because they were out of their sphere. As the facility was built over Cracks, the aiexyn was almost completely of the type that was produced in these Cracks, rather than the cocktail of aiexyn that Cleon had been in less than an hour earlier. Only dragons who fed on fuchsia aiexyn would function at their best in this environment. If Levene stayed here for a long time, she, too, would grow weak. These dragons had been here all day.

In a short time, Cleon had felled several more dragons. Most of them weren’t much of a challenge, although he did face one that was particularly large, and, had it been around vermilion aiexyn, could have incinerated Cleon with a powerful breath of fire.

It was all about the aiex. Dragons functioned best when they were taking in the right forms of aiexyn. The aiex Cleon pumped in his veins allowed him to function with superhuman capabilities. Even his blade was powered by an aiex-fuse core, generating those flames that made the weapon so useful. On a larger scale, the house who controlled more aiex harvesting facilities had the advantage. Aiex was the life-blood of Pathros.

On that note, Cleon spotted a dragon that had quite the advantage due to aiex. When he could only see the shadows, it wasn’t clear what threat this dragon would pose. Cleon could tell that it was large – a long, serpentine body, probably stretching fifty feet in length – but he couldn’t tell much more than that until he saw its features. Spaced equally along its snake-like body were large sacs. Not too many dragons possessed sacs like that, but Cleon immediately recognized them as sacs designed to store aiex. This dragon likely had a large reserve of aiex, and would be able to function at its full capacities, despite being in an area with only fuchsia aiexyn. If Cleon could destroy the sacs, it would be weakened. Unfortunately, he would first have to get around the large spikes that covered the dragon’s whole body.

Cleon led Levene in for the kill. He brought her up where he could take a swing at one of the sacs with his blade. While he attempted to do so, Levene struck, her slender neck deftly placing her head between the dragon’s defensive spikes. Her jaws clamped around the dragon, but it was ready. Not only did its armor endure Levene’s bite, but in retaliation, it utilized its natural defenses that Cleon was not aware of. From a hole that had previously gone unnoticed, a jet of frost shot out, coating Levene’s face with ice.

Cleon recognized this dragon now. He had never seen one like it before, but had heard of them from Garlan. A chillpipe coiler. Garlan had told Cleon how dangerous they were; this was bound to be a good fight. Levene jerked her head away, roaring in what must have been a mix of shock and pain. As his dragon backed away from the chillpipe coiler, Cleon pressed forward, determined to take the beast down.

She’s a tough girl, she’ll be fine on her own.

Cleon dismounted, kicking himself off towards the dragon. Although his strength and speed were enhanced by the aiex he was pumping, he still fell short of the coiler. He expected that, and was prepared. He activated his burst-pack, and was suddenly propelled forward by jets that the pack was equipped with. Speeding through the murk, Cleon closed the distance between himself and the coiler.

Catching one of the long spikes, he pulled himself up close to the beast. He had to temporarily sheath his blade in order to get a good enough grip. A hissing sound that was not audible to him before warned Cleon of an impending burst of frost from one the chillpipe. Spotting a hole just next to him, Cleon dexterously reached for another spike and pulled himself towards it, narrowly dodging the freezing jet.

Have to act quickly. . .

Slithering through the murk-filled sky, clinging to the spikes on the side of the serpentine dragon, Cleon felt a rush akin to the feeling he got while pushing Levene to her limits. Only a fool or one trained as a dragoon would dare to attempt what he was doing. Dodging another deadly stream of ice, Cleon began to pull himself forward, along the sinuous dragon, towards the nearest sac. His senses, enhanced by the silver he pumped, could hear the hissing that preceded the chillpipe’s discharge, and he was able to dodge the dozen or so jets of frost that came before he could reach the first sac.

Now came the tricky part. He could hear the hissing, and knew he had but a moment to get out of the way. With one hand drawing his blade, and the other swinging his body away from the burst, he took a swing at the sac. As his blade hit its mark, the sac ruptured, sending out plumes of bluish aiexyn gases. The strike, though, caused Cleon to lose his grip, and he fell away from the coiler. In only a moment, the dragon was out of his sight as he fell through the murk, only shadows rendered in his visor left to reveal its location.

Reactivating his burst-pack, Cleon shot upward through the purplish murk once again. It took only a moment for him to be back within sight of the chillpipe coiler. The sac was empty, just thick skin hanging from the belly of the beast, a singed slash through it. Cleon looked to the other sacs, and, to his surprise, saw that they were deflating.

Why would they be doing that?

Then it donned on him.

Clever devil. . .

The dragon was aware of what Cleon was trying to do, and adapted to the situation. It was draining all of its aiex reserves, so that it was fresh in its bloodstream. With the amount it was draining, it would likely have enough aiex coursing through its veins to last hours. Cleon was going to have to find another method.

But what? The body was heavily armored; if Levene’s jaws couldn’t puncture the armor, there was no way that Cleon’s blade could. Even the head was armored. Beneath the sac he had ruptured, there was armor as well, the sac only being connected by small tubes that channeled the aiex. He could try to stab in the chillpipes, but they didn’t likely lead to any vitals. With something as armored as this beast was, Cleon could only think of one reasonable solution.

Flaring his burst-pack, Cleon launched towards the coiler, and grabbed hold of the spikes once again. He continued his graceful avoidance of the frost-streams, which he noticed were bigger than before, due to the large amount of aiex that the coiler had just used. For the time, he did not attempt to move forward, but simply dodged bursts of frost and ice. He had to wait for the right timing.

Observing his surroundings, which were mostly just murk with the occasional dragon, Cleon spotted Levene flying past them, chasing down a smaller dragon which had a very short amount of time left to live. Before Levene had even disappeared into the murk, she had the smaller dragon crushed between her powerful mandibles.

Good girl.

Dodging a few more frozen jets of death, Cleon continued to wait for the right timing, watching his environment closely.

There!

One of the massive, ultrasteel columns loomed ahead of them. The course that the coiler was taking would avoid the pillar, but Cleon had a different set of flight plans in mind for the beast. Cleon positioned himself just right, then flared his burst-pack. His grip on the spikes firm, the force of the burst-pack moved the whole body of the coiler. He was positioned outward, so that the burst caused the coiler’s body to spin. Cleon quickly let go, flying a few meters away, then shot himself up towards the disoriented head of the coiler. In its muddled state, it was unable to avoid the young dragoon as his weight was thrown against its head. The force of the impact sent the head right into the ultrasteel column.

Even the heavy armor of the chillpipe coiler couldn’t withstand such a blow, and it cracked. Cleon kicked himself off of the head, then shot back down, his blade now drawn. The fiery sword plunged into the crack in the armor, both piercing and cooking the dragon’s brain.

As the coiler crashed to the ground below, Cleon caught sight of Levene not far away. By her side, Jackson flew atop his mount, Changa. Jackson had cleared out the dragons on the surface, and was now helping to clear out the air.

Did it really take me that long?

Soaring towards them, Cleon gracefully mounted Levene, and the team was together again.

“There you are! Some dragoon you are, leaving your sweet Levene all alone,” teased Jackson.

Patting Levene’s scaly neck, Cleon assured, “Levene was fine. She knows how to take care of herself. Don’t you, girl?”

It was only a matter of minutes before the two dragoons had cleared out the airborne ones.

“Garlan,” Cleon said into his radio, “it’s all clear up here. We’re on our way to help you hunt down the dragon’s in the Cracks.”

“I think I’ve got them mostly taken care of, boys, but there’s something here you need to see,” came their captain’s reply.

Intrigued, they headed down into the Cracks. Garlan gave them directions as to where he was, and it did not take long for them to find him. His dragon was perched on a ledge up above, and he had gone into a small passage that was found in the rubble of the cave-in that had happened the day before. Garlan was standing next to a square opening. It was almost too square; it couldn’t have been natural.

“I think,” began Garlan, “that we’ve found out just why all these dragons are here.”

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