In the Blink of an Eye - Part 3

Posted on 29 Jul 2023 @ 10:06am by Chief Warrant Officer 3 Alexion Wylde

2,557 words; about a 13 minute read

:: 2366 - 26 years prior to current time
A few hours after the events in Part 2
Capital City of Sol, Vaeron ::


The blood was everywhere. Floors were thick and slick with it and the air reeked. Alexion barely noticed anymore, having worked nonstop since he had arrived at the hospital. Field surgery, in the middle of the corridor, was becoming common place. The surgical suites were clogged with ten patients at a time, and he'd elected to start emergency surgery in the wards rather than let people bleed to death.

And in a situation with nowhere near enough supplies, instruments or hands to go around, he was having to rely on either barbaric practices or his Transfer talent more than he ever would in normal practice. They didn't have the time and resources for conventional modern surgery in all cases. And he was exhausted from all the Transferring.

Yes, his Talent meant he could heal through touch, but it didn't come from nowhere, it wasn't a childish notion of magic. It was Transference. His own energy was poured into the patient to make their body heal and recover at an extraordinary rate, and it left him drained. He was running low, but it didn't stop. Patient after patient, wound after wound, bloody mess after bloody mess, burnt flesh after burnt flesh. There was no end to the torrent of wounded. It was starting to sink in and become real, slowly, that this was no passing skirmish or threatening attack to force surrender...it was a full scale attack. This was a massacre.

They were being slaughtered.

"Alexion?" Hanri pushed through the dishevelled rabble in the hospital corridor to get to him. The hospital manager gripped his arm, watching him with shock. "You look horrendous."

"So does everyone," Alexion waved a dismissive hand, standing to face him, but his knees buckled with the lack of energy and he landed hard down on them, staining his trousers with someone else's blood.

"Easy," Hanri gripped him firmly, easing him up to at least kneel properly. "You're draining yourself, take some energy," he pulled his sleeve up to offer his arm.

Alexion frowned at the suggestion, shaking his head. "You need it too."

"Just a bit, I need to speak with you," he insisted, taking hold of Alexion's hand and pulling it onto his arm.

Alexion took a deep breath before nodding, his hearts racing at the prospect that Hanri might have tracked his son down. He gripped the arm tight, concentrating as he had done so often throughout the night and morning, but this time to absorb energy rather than expel it. He pulled his hand back quickly though, only taking enough to be refreshed as he climbed to his feet.

Hanri nodded, taking a breath to adjust, not noticing the difference too much with the adrenaline pumping through him. "I managed to get in contact with your brother, Jaq, he has your son."

Alexion was hit by an overwhelming rush of relief, almost feeling weak with it. No matter how much he had tried to push the worry over Laeon to the back of his mind while he worked, he couldn't deny the emotion that washed over him. But after the welcome initial relief, a frown settled on his features as he thought on the words. "Why is he with Jaq? He was with his grandfather? Why isn't he still with him?"

"I don't know," Hanri said quietly, searching his eyes as he shook his head slowly. "I can't get in contact with your father, and no one else knows where he is."

"What do you mean no one knows where he is? He's a High-Pralor of the Vaeron Council! High-Councillors don't just disappear..." Alexion's voice was lifting in volume without him even realising it, his hands setting on his hips as his body became tense.

"I don't know, Alexion. All I can do is make calls, I have to stay here and try and work out some kind of management in this sea of bloody chaos. Half the comms are down, and the other half aren't being answered."

"Who the hell is attacking us? We have a hundred different rumours running through here," Alexion shook his head with confusion.

Hanri drew closer to him, pulling him away to the side so he could keep his voice hushed. "It's the Xaeons."

"What? That's preposterous, they're trading partners, we've had a treaty with them for centuries," he shook his head with disbelief. The Xaeons were their neighbours, from a planet in the same system, and while they'd had conflicts in the past, the peace after the treaty had stretched for a long time, at least a few generations.

"It's the truth," he whispered, shaking his head with a tired frown, holding his eyes with regret. "They've turned on us. We don't even know why."

Alexion swallowed hard, looking down for a long moment as he caught his breath. He finally nodded, licking his dry lips. "Hanri, I'm not in the military, but I was raised my father's son. They must have had inside help to break through our defences so easily. This isn't just a fly over to prompt surrender or attempt extortion. This is out and out carnage. They're trying to kill us. All of us. I mean...it's a slaughter," he whispered urgently to him, searching his eyes.

Hanri's jaw tensed. It was clear from his face he'd had some communication from the Council, but was unwilling or unable to share it with him. "It's bad," he finally replied, and the tone ensured he didn't need to say more. "And they're not stopping."

"Why aren't we surrendering?" Alexion whispered harshly, searching his eyes. "Just to stop this attack! To regroup and work out where we are..."

"The surrender was sent hours ago," Hanri held his eyes, pain all too clear in his own. "They ignored it and carried on attacking, both on the ground and from their ships."

Alexion watched with shock, the sickening feeling swelling inside of him. "They're not going to stop, are they," he whispered. "Not for a surrender, not when the main force is broken, they're not going to stop the slaughter of our people...they're just going to keep going, aren't they."

Hanri just shrugged lightly, unable to look him in the eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Alexion looked upward for a long moment, closing his eyes tightly to shove his emotions out of the way. "We need to evacuate," he breathed, shaking his head. "Let's get who we can on ships and get them off planet. Anywhere but here, hopefully someone will pick them up."

Hanri watched him with tired eyes, his throat tight. "What do you think we've been doing all these hours?" he whispered. "The Security Force has been trying to evacuate people on ships. As soon as they're up, the bastards are shooting them down. We haven't managed to get a single ship out of the system yet, they're destroying them all, and we're running out of spaceworthy government vessels. They're starting to seize civilian shuttles."

Alexion watched with horror, unable to take it in for a moment. They were targeting and deliberately slaughtering fleeing civilians? He felt sick with it. Nauseated to his core. He knew it meant that they wouldn't show any mercy. They were going to keep going, keep killing, everyone. Anyone. "I've got to get to my son," he finally whispered.

"No, Alexion, we need you here, we have hardly anyone left on the staff!" Hanri reached to grab Alexion's arm as he pulled away.

Alexion pulled his arm sharply back, moving up close to his friend, anger and pain in his eyes as he lifted his finger to his jaw. "My son is out there somewhere in all of this! And you've just told me there's no hope of getting him off this burning planet. They're slaughtering us, Hanri! What's the point of staying here and healing wounds if they're going to come and kill us all anyway! That's the next logical step, isn't it? They're targeting people to wipe them out. And we have a whole load of them in here. They're going to come through those doors and kill whoever is in sight, so why should I stay here, delaying the inevitable, when I could be with my son?"

Hanri tilted his head, letting out a shaking breath as he tried a smile for him, but it didn't reach his dark, tear blurred eyes. "Because that is who we are. That is what we do. We don't let a man, who can be saved, die...and if he must die, we don't let him die alone. No one should have to do that."

The anger faded from Alexion and he looked away, shaking his head with pain and struggle, the breath tight in his chest, unable to make a decision.

Before either man could speak again, there was a searing scream of engines from above.

Alexion looked to the windows, moving quickly to try and see what was going on. "It's the Airforce!" he watched with awe. "They've sent out fighters against the incoming enemy ships that are trying to get closer into the Capital..."

Hanri moved beside him, trying to see, frowning with frustration. "There's been waves of enemy ships trying to break into the Capital airspace. A huge amount of our fighter-jets were destroyed in the initial attack after the sabotage to our defence systems, there's not enough left. The turrets are all that's keeping them back from the city centre. But the turrets are going down, there's not many left working. Smoke and Ash, I can't see a thing from here! If those ships get through, we're finished. They'll send in ground troops to the city centre to kill us; they've taken no prisoners, they just kill...that's what they did across in Ylos city..."

Alexion frowned at the mention of the closest large town to the Capital they were in. Was it gone already? "I know where there's a view. Hold the ground," he clapped Hanri on the shoulder before heading off at a run.

Alexion took the steps two at a time, pushing himself until his chest hurt with how many flights of stairs he had run up in so quickly. He finally burst through a door and out into the sunshine, stepping onto the roof of the hospital. He ran right to the edge of the tall building, looking out at the sight of the battle scarred city. He hadn't seen it since entering the hospital, and it took his breath away.

The streets were scorched and broken from ship fire. The bodies were smoking and twisted, blackened and ripped, and being totally ignored by the people who had so far escaped enemy fire, running in no real direction. Just...away. The dark red blood had stained the stone of the streets, and instead of autumn foliage, the rancid smell of burning flesh clung to the air. The buildings crumbled from the bombardment, and it was only now he could see a smoking hole in the upper administration floor of the large hospital.

Alexion's gaze moved to the sky, to follow the stream of purple engines, the tell-tale signature of their own aircraft, chasing the red streaks of the enemy craft.

Despite the chaos and destruction around them, the people on the ground, just like Alexion, stopped and gazed at the sky, drawn to the unfolding battle. With so many foot soldiers already killed in action trying to protect the Vaeron people, these last fighter jets seemed the only remaining hope to drive back some of the air assault before they managed to completely break through the capital city's turrets and shields to take the city centre.

They moved nimbly through the air that was already thick with acrid smoke rising from the broken buildings and streets. It was clear they were distinctly outnumbered by the enemy, but as they twisted through the air and ripped through at least ten of the red hazed enemy jets, the hope of the tired, bleeding crowd of people lifted. It was the first sign that they could possibly get through this unforeseen massacre.

Alexion lifted his hand to cover his eyes from the glare of the sun, watching with held breath, as did all the other desperate spectators, his two hearts thumping harder and faster. He gasped as another row of enemy jets were sent crashing to the ground, on a path of destruction to the city below, but neutralised all the same. He even shouted along with the survivors on the ground, as their fighters pushed on, putting up a brave and miraculous fight given the few jets left after the earlier battles.

He, as they, shouted them on, thinking, just for a moment, that they might break the enemy attack with how many of the enemy fighters they were taking down with so few of their own pilots left. But as the first violet jet was sent crashing down, their team was broken, the flow and harmony of their fighting unit gone, and soon, one after the other, each hope of their redemption was sent burning to the ground.

Alexion's breath caught in his throat, watching with a mixture of desolation and resignation as the last jet was taken down. He and the crowd fell silent again, watching in the joint knowledge that no other jets would come to help, all now destroyed or protecting others elsewhere; the last hope of saving the Capital City of Sol was gone. And when they lost Sol, they would lose their world. With no reported successful evacuations, they all knew, in their souls, in that moment, that they were all dead.

They weren't just facing a lost war, they were facing genocide.

Moving back inside, Alexion's steps were heavy, as if it took a huge amount of effort to force them. He pushed through the door to take him back to where he'd left Hal in the middle of the makeshift emergency room, that now took the whole floor and every inch of space that could occupy a ripped or burnt patient.

Hal stood from where he had been checking on a wounded nurse, meeting Alexion's eyes with question and hope.

Alexion didn't need to say anything; his expression said it all. He just shook his head.

Hal looked to the ground, breath held as the sinking inevitability of their fate took him with a wave of sickness. After several moments, he looked back to the others, who had also fallen silent in the same knowledge.

"Turn off all non-essential systems," Hal finally spoke over the now unnaturally quiet lobby. "Divert them to the hospital shields. Expect enemy soldiers soon." As people started moving around him, he looked across to Alexion. "Go and find your son."

Alexion watched him, dilemma clear in his face and eyes as he held his breath. If they were right, if they were all dead anyway and it was only a matter of time now, he needed to get to Laeon. "Thank you," he said quietly, pulling his bloody shirt off even as he moved away with a run to head out into the war zone that used to be his home city.

[TBC]

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