15
Wrathin needed a ship. Something bigger than his fighter, which had returned to the fleet center automatically. One that would transport the two of them, plus anyone who might have survived.
Though he had no hope of finding any more survivors.
At least not here.
The settlement kept a landing zone for ships. Unless it was decimated by the Terrans. There might be one left that would work.
With communications still down from the eclipse, Wrathin had no way to reach out and check for a new upload. He was on his own, with only his last standing program—get the ambassadors to safety.
Veta’s assessment made sense. Visual confirmation of life was necessary for all the ambassadors. They would need to find the ships.
And the ambassadors.
Wrathin had some data recorded from the attack that gave him a tentative flight pattern of all the pods. While it wasn’t guaranteed, it would provide them with a starting point to track down the dignitaries and the rest of his squad.
Veta had retrieved her weapon, the blade shiny in the dark. The soft glow made it easy to see.
She didn’t say much as she looked for a survivor. Whether it was to confirm who the attackers were or to save someone, he didn’t know. Only that she checked each body they came across as they went through the settlement.
Wrathin kept scanning for threats. And for life. His scans were not as useful as they should have been, but it was better than nothing. So far, he’d found nothing on either search.
The Terrans had killed every Rhimodian in the settlement. From the way the bodies were laid out, he guessed the Rhimodians were preparing to leave for the eclipse. It must have been almost instant, the attack.
No time to prepare.
No time to defend themselves.
Each body intensified his anger as they crossed.
“Do we need to, uh, do something for them?” Veta asked.
Wrathin paused and glanced at her. “There is nothing more to do. They are dead.”
“Do they need burial or anything? Do you say words for them?”
He shook his head. “I shall report allowing what must be done.”
She nodded. “We bury our dead,” she said. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“They will be harvested. Their tech removed, before joining Sol. We let Sol recycle the dead into base elements, and then our organics will become part of the infinite universe.”
She paused. “That’s kind of pretty,” she said. “An interesting idea, for certain.”
“It is—” He stopped.
A sound made him freeze.
Veta must have heard it as well.
He glanced at her, and she put her finger over her lips. He scanned again, looking for heat signatures while loading his blades in the other hand.
Four Terrans were coming.
Veta stepped back-to-back with him, her blade out.
Wrathin lowered the supply bags that he’d been carrying. He increased his visual scanning, watching for entrance points.
