*blows dust off thread* *coughs* *tries to blow off some more dust* *coughs some more* *gives up and grabs a shovel*
So, I had thought it had only been a year, but no, it has been nearly TWO YEARS since I've written anything for this fic. My profuse apologies to my faithful readers, if there's any of you still left with any interest in this whatsoever. If not, though, I still want to finish this story anyway. Even if I am the only person who will ever read it in its entirety, I just need to know that I'm actually capable of finishing something I've started. As for the long hiatus, I think I was actually on a medication that had writer's block as a side-effect? I'm finally off those meds, hopefully permanently. Let's see if I can finish this story before I drop dead of the thing the meds were for! Whoo!
On the off-chance that there IS anybody still reading this, I also have a question for you. The fact that I put this story on pause for so long, now puts me at a bit of a conundrum. There are several RAFians who, at the initial time of writing, were new members. But now they are not. Whether or not these folks should be considered 'new' RAFians in the continuity of my story or not, pretty significantly changes the course of the story itself. Dpsb, Quaf, Xeno, gh, and YeerkSalad would fall into this category, so if any of you are reading this, please weigh in. If you decide to be treated as established members, you will get a somewhat minor role in an epic badass fight scene that will take place among pretty much all RAFians. I will try to give each of you as much screen time as I can, but you are going to be sharing the limelight with a LOT of others. If you do decide to remain 'newbies' for purposes of the story, however, you will get your own side-quest specifically featuring your group, and it's worth noting that this side-quest will be written out of the story entirely if you decide against it. In short, do you wish to play a small role in a big mission, or big role in a small one? The choice . . . is yours. Well, you'll have at least a few more chapters to decide. Hopefully you'll see this by then, if you're going to at all. And if not, I dunno, I'll flip a coin or something.
To any new readers, welcome! You might want to start from the beginning, though, because I'm going to dive right in where I left off, and there's going to be a lot of stuff that won't be explained (heck, I'd even recommend reading
the prequel first, just to make extra sure you don't get lost). Also, it's worth noting, since a lot of you are probably readers of
Memoirs of a RAFian (who isn't, at this point?), that this story occurs in a somewhat different universe than Memoirs does. Think of it as a neighboring Realm, a couple doors down from the Prime Universe.
Chapter Sixty-five
Orca had quickly bored of fighting the other seal. Why should they only have to fight their own counterparts, after all? Sure, that's what the other Reverses were doing, but that was dull. After thinking about it for a few moments, Orca decided to focus on spreading her fires instead, teleporting through each new flame as it kindled, out to the edges of the battlefield. Teleport and ignite and teleport and ignite. Slowly, but inexorably, drawing a ring of fire around the combatants. Queen's forces and RAFians alike. Orca would burn them all.
Seal looked around after her little experiment with the 'sanity' liquid, anxiously wondering where Orca had gone. It suddenly occurred to her how odd it was, that her Reverse would just suddenly leave her alone like that . . .
There! At the edge of Seal's vision, she spotted a burst of flame flare up, behind Noelle and her feral-looking Reverse, pinning them in with four Hork-bajir on their other side. Noelle was trapped, now, between the bladed aliens and the fire. Seal bounded as quickly as her flippers could carry her, trying to catch up to Orca in time to stop her from doing any more damage. She only hoped she wasn't too late.
Meanwhile, the two dragons, Shock and Cloud, fought one another high in the sky above the melee, just beneath the ominous ceiling of blood-red stormclouds. Shock's muscular green and black frame clashed against Cloud's sinuous red and gold.
Shock had to flap his wings again and again for lift, each powerful stroke lifting his light-boned body upwards, while Cloud had only to weave through the air, wingless, staying aloft as though by sheer will. Cloud sensed the slight disadvantage Shock was at, and aimed his attacks at the other dragon's vulnerable wings.
Shock was able to keep Cloud at bay with his firey breath, which the Oriental dragon didn't seem to possess. Instead, Cloud breathed a strange blue mist, which left Shock feeling oddly calm. It tingled where it touched his skin, and made him want to sleep. Like contact-poison laughing gas.
Shock tried to be careful, tried to avoid the strange mist, which the other dragon couldn't project long distances the way Shock could shoot his own flames. But the mists persisted in the air, and that translucent blue was hard to see. Every time Shock's wings passed through a wisp of the stuff, his muscles shuddered. Each wingbeat became a burden. Despite himself, Shock began to dip lower in the sky.
His eyelids fluttered, and for a brief moment he couldn't quite think straight. Within the fractions of seconds that it took Shock to realize he had inhaled Cloud's 'zen breath' and recover his wits, it was already too late.
Darting like a striking snake, Cloud wrapped his eel-like body around Shock's wings, binding them tightly to his body. The wingless dragon's strange levitation was not enough to hold them both, and they began to plummet towards the ground.
In a different part of the sky, Saffa and Fassa were willfully diving towards the ground, racing one another in a mad spiral downward. Both birds of prey were trailing droplets of blood from their wings as they swooped.
They both needed to morph, to heal themselves, for they both were badly wounded, blood streaming from the gashes inflicted by one anothers' beaks and talons. But they both knew that morphing would leave them vulnerable. Hence, the race to the ground. Whoever could finish the morph first, would have the upper hand against the other.
Saffa was slightly out-pacing the bigger, bulkier owl, her smaller hawk body allowing her to fall faster in a dive. She would have smiled, if she could. She would win!
But, no, wait, suddenly the ground was too close! Way too close! Saffa flared her wings, but too late, there wasn't time to slow down!
WHUMPH. She landed and rolled, beak over tail across the dusty ground. But, she couldn't wait, couldn't stop, if she paused for even a moment, she would lose. And losing this race meant death.
Upside-down, her neck bent uncomfortably against a rock, she began to morph. She willed the changes to happen faster, trying to right herself even as her bones began to shift, making her movements awkward. The owl had landed more gracefully, and was coming towards her, walking on talons even as they began to shift into feet. Fassa fell forward, her morphing legs giving out beneath her, crawling now on knees and wings toward Saffa.
<What the hell is your problem, you-> Saffa's thought-speak voice cut off as she became more human than hawk. Deciding against saying what she was about to say, she instead picked up the rock that she had crash-landed into, gripping it with still-forming fingers and throwing it with all her might at the half-morphed creature, which now looked more and more like herself with each passing moment. The rock hit Fassa in the sternum, knocking the wind out of her, and Saffa took the opportunity to run. At least far enough to manage a remorph to hawk before her psychotic twin could catch up to her. Berating herself, even as she ran, for never acquiring a proper battle morph. But at least Fassa was no better off.
Another red-tailed hawk, identical to the one Saffa had been just a few moments ago, shrieked from the sky towards Fassa. Rose knew she couldn't do much, but she could at least try to slow the imposter down so her sister could get away.
Nearby, two androids battled, impervious to the flames that were even now beginning to lick around their metallic bodies. Back and forth they teleported around each other, whirling to block each others' punches and kicks with ninja-like skill.
But Lumy felt himself gradually slowing, weakening. It was like he was rusting, but of course aluminum doesn't rust. And there was a faint clicking noise coming from somewhere within his own gears. The clicking grew in intensity every time the other android drew near. When the two androids' metal bodies connected, the clicks grew so rapid they seemed almost continuous, like an electronic scream.
It was his own geiger counter, Lumy realized. A thing he'd long-ago installed inside himself for really no other reason than because he could.
"You're radioactive," Lumy said, almost accusingly, as he ducked a spinning kick that set his geiger counter hissing with clicks. A near miss.
"Welcome to the new age," Ury replied coldly.
Not satisfied with this answer, Lumy decided to press him. "Why?" he asked. "Why, any of this?"
"You don't know, do you?" Ury said condescendingly. "We are the things
you made. You made us because you were afraid to die. You didn't know that we
lived, so we lived a life that was worse than death. It was a hell of . . . nothing. No sight, no sound, nothing. We are nothing, but the echoes of despair
you caused in the name of immortality."
Lumy made a gasping sound, but of course the sound was artificial; Lumy didn't have lungs. He looked at Ury with pity and sadness somehow showing in his mechanical eyes. Yet, he now felt that much more terror, knowing the truth behind why these creatures hated the RAFians as they did.
. . . Perhaps the RAFians deserved it.
Aquilai landed his TARDIS, trying to summon more courage than he felt. He didn't know where he was, or when. But he knew that he could not keep flying. The strange other TARDIS, the Dalek-TARDIS, as he was beginning to think of it, had been ramming his own TARDIS as he flew. Over and over, the crashes drowning out the metallic-wind sound of time slipping by.
His poor TARDIS was already being held together with not much more than hope and a prayer. It couldn't take any more abuse.
Aquilai stepped out, onto a grass-and-dirt field surrounded by tents. Mostly dirt, the grass having been long-since trampled into nothing. Walking here and there were, knights. Actual knights, in actual armor. Preparing for some historical battle, Aquilai had no idea which.
Aquilai didn't really have time to take in the sights, however. As several knights stared at him, he made a grab for a sword and shield that were laying nearby. "Sorry, I have to borrow these," he said apologetically, over the sound of the approaching Dalek-TARDIS.
The door of the Dalek-TARDIS opened, and for the first time, Aquilai laid eyes on his pursuer. It was, himself. Looking at the other Time Lord was like looking in a mirror.
The other Aquilai raised his left hand. There was something strange about that hand, a little hollow metal rod sticking out of the palm, with wires arrayed around it like a whisk or an egg-beater.
Aquilai absorbed the sight in a fraction of a second, and immediately and instinctively raised his newly borrowed shield. Right as he did, a burst of green light flashed from the other Aquilai's raised hand.
The light reflected off of Aquilai's shield, and hit an unfortunate passing squire. The green light lit him up from the inside, illuminating his skeleton for all to see. The squire evaporated into ash.
Aquilai recognized that light. It was Dalek technology.
Aquilai didn't wait for Dalkorai to take another shot. He was already back in his TARDIS, praying that the battered craft might hold together just a little longer.
Lumy fell to his knees, the strange radiation that Ury emitted taking its toll on him. His own gears were now making the same clicking noises as his geiger counter was, as the slow corrosion ate away at his metal body. He realized it didn't really make sense, of course. Radiation didn't normally affect metal in this way. But then, Lumy supposed, this was probably no ordinary radiation.
Lumy's bright aluminum skin darkened to a dull grey, and his movements slowed, his gears worn down by the bombardment of energy radiating from Ury's body. The withered fragments of metal caught against each other inside him, until it became excruciating just to move. Even those pained attempts to keep going, keep fighting, became slower, more halting. Until Lumy was frozen completely in place.
"This is it," Ury sang, as he walked through Orca's fires, towards the other RAFians fighting their own battles. Bringing his deadly radiation with him as he went. "The apocalypse."