Chapter Text
'Sir, we have Mister Chesterwick here for your afternoon appointment' The old butler spoke through the slightly open door into the ornate office. His head poking through the gap between the door and the frame.
'Thank you, Laurel. Please send him in' The butler heard as a reply. The ornate office was decorated in an almost excessive amount of lacquered dark wood; being the floor boards, the primary material in the furniture, and even the material that covered the lower half of the walls. The upper half of the walls was decorated in an earthy green wallpaper. The office itself was a fairly large size, occupying the size of two large windows, the width of a man's elbows when their arms are outstrectched, and just more than half of the height of a man, stretching from a little below the wallpaper, and up to the ceiling. At one window was the aforementioned recreational area; with a fireplace against the side wall that was adorned with a mantelpiece full of hunting trophies and random miscellanious items. Above the mantel was the grotesque head of a Bog Howler mounted to the wall, pulling a snarled face and revealing its sharp, but level teeth. Positioned towards it was a small array of seating, including a small couch and two chairs, decorated in a floral pattern. in the middle of the seating was a small, dark wooden table. It was barren with exception to a single small booklet.
The other side of the office was decorated in a mildly contrasting manner. Both the back and interior walls were packed with bookcases full of documents. These bookcases would serve as a background to a large desk, with function fitting chairs on either side. The desk would seat the office's sole occupant, whose workspace was cluttered with stationary, documents, and trinkets.
The lone man inside the office was a Human of good health and slim stature. Tall, with fair skin and blond hair that waved into a naturally photogenic style that matched with his rich blue eyes. He wore a set of smart brown slacks, a white button-up shirt, braces to hold his trousers up, and a brown waistcoat. On the back of his chair, he had a long, brown blazer haphazardly slung into place. The butler, Laurel, opened the door further and allowed the man's guest entry to the office. This guest, Mister Chesterwick, wore much the same as the man sat at the desk, although his head was topped with dark brown hair that was balding on the tip of his scalp, and a set of shaggy sideburns that seemed almost unruly. Mister Chesterwick sat at the desk, in the chair opposite the man already sat there, their eyes locking. Mister Chesterwick's hazel locking with the blue across from him.
'It's a pleasure, Mister Chesterwick' The man said.
'As it normally is, minister Rex' Mister Chesterwick responded. Rex noticed how his guest was holding a thick leather bag as it was lifted from below the desk, being placed on the desk with a noticeable thunk. 'Sadly, however, whilst it is a pleasure for us to meet, the reasoning for us to meet in the first place is not' Mister Chesterwick opened the bag and pulled a small journal from the inside. He gave it to Rex, who opened and read it as Chesterwick kept speaking. 'I have recieved a disturbing amount of reports of insubordination within our Terra's main workspaces. Chiefly the mines, Surely I do not need to remind you of the dangerous tools the miners are equipped with. Should the men revolt, We risk a heavy amount of casualties. Not to mention what the Queen would have to say about the stoppage of raw materials that feed our great Cyclonian empire'
Rex kept flicking through the journal's pages, skimming over its contents. 'So what do you propose we do? My hands are tied with this latest budget' He asked. He closed the journal and handed it back to Mister Chesterwick.
'Well, funny you mention that. I've noticed how you have a way with words, always convincing investors and contractors for more amicable deals. So perhaps, if we sneak you into the mines, you could diffuse and disperse the discontent' Mister Chesterwick suggested.
'That involves leaving the office empty. That's not a risk I'm willing to take' Rex explained.
'I can take over in the meantime. I've shadowed you in your role for a few months when you became minister a couple of years back. It's only as temporary operation. A few months inside, and then you will be taken back out as if nothing happend' Mister Chesterwick said, trying to convince Rex to his whim.
'...You're sure about this? That it will only be a few months?' Rex quizzed.
'Four months at most. You have my word' Chesterwick replied, placing his hand over his heart.
'...Okay, fine. Just this once. I will go tomorrow before sunrise. Just make sure you don't make a mess of any paperwork' Rex finally said, convinced.
'Of course' Mister Chesterwick replied with a smirk. 'I will make sure everything is well looked after for you'
Rex would remember this conversation as he first entered the mines. Each day would pass, one after another, and each day would see their own perils. The mines were all veins branching from one central pit. This hub and spoke design bred the perfect conditions for Rex seeing a number of tragedies in his stay. Each day would start and end with the masses of workers entering the pit in one obscenely large wave. This wave would sometimes splash over the sides, resulting in men falling over the fence on the exposed side of the mine's path and down the pit. The frequency of which being alarmingly common. The management and staff overseeing this practically forced labour calmly, and coldly kept the crowd moving regardless; Using the front most workers' effort to clean up any personnel spillage that happens to occur at the start and end of shift.
Rex also found the workplace conditions themselves to be tragically subpar. Each worker only had a pickaxe as equipment. Often times, the tip would be chipped or deformed, which would decrease efficiency. This decrease in efficiency would be swiftly rewarded with shouting and the odd assualt with a baton by the guards and management. There would be a few times Rex found himself on the short end of the guard's baton. They would strike the stomach first, then the back of the knee, and lastly, one final strike in the centre of the spine. Each worker would have at least one of these strikes throbbing in their mind as they kept chipping away at the stone walls in the mines.
The days that Rex spent in the pit would blur and fade from memory, although from the tally marks he would scratch into the walls, he found out that the four months his old colleague promised had, in fact, dramatically run over. The tally marks would extend a fair distance in count. Each month further had dramatically changed Rex. His luscious blond hair had lost its bounce, falling straight down from the soot that dirtied his hair to an almost brunette colour. His physique changed over the months from being slim and refined, to rugged and mildly muscular. Rex even noticed his demeanor change from a meek, quiet soul to someone embittened and begrudged. Rex would soon tally up his fourth month. Then his fifth, seventh, twelfth, and eventually, eighteenth. Rex's memories of his office was all but forgotten. His visage of high social stature faded into obscurity. Yet despite this, he kept Mister Chesterwick and his betrayal burned in his mind. He did not know what he would do if he met Chesterwick again, but he knew that it would not be an amicable meeting. So, the wrath festered, bubbling away and waiting for the chance to boil over.
As it would happen, Rex's chance would eventually come. Rex neared nineteen months in the mines, and on this particular day, he worked in one of the first veins. Near the top of the path in and out of the pit. He would suddenly hear a conversation with a very familiar voice. 'Queen Cyclonis appears pleased with this Terra's output, although it shalln't be long before she asks for a higher level of productivity. Can I guarantee that from you?'
'Yes, you can. Minister Chesterwick' The guard affirmed. The guards of the pit wore a uniform of beige button-up shirts and maroon slacks. Their boots were of black leather, unpolished and dull in colour. They wore extra protection in the form of knee pads and pauldrons, generously covering their shoulders. These extra pads were brass, and shined in the sun, reflecting along the dim walls of the mines akin to a disco hall. With Rex overhearing the guard confirm the familiar voice's name, his hands stopped, and his work halted. His pickaxe slipped out of his grip, landing on the floor with a dull, but loud thump. The workers either side of him all stopped and watched him. Slowly, Rex would turn to the vein's exit and walk towards Chesterwick. At first, calmly, but before long, Rex would break into a run. He growled as he started to sprint to Chesterwick. The guards only spotted him when it was too late. Rex grabbed Chesterwick from the fabric on his stomach, lifting him up and onto the fence overlooking the drop into the pit.
'You lied to me!' Rex shouted between gnashed teeth.
'How can I lie to a ruffian I have never met before?' Chesterwick angrily replied. Hearing this denial fuelled Rex further, as he pushed Chesterwick over the edge of the fence, holding him by his calves. The immediate peril that Chesterwick found himself in caused him to scream in terror. The only thing holding him and stopping him from falling to his demise was the very same person he had betrayed. Chesterwick called out for help, but the guards all hesitated and jittered, unsure of how to approach. More and more of the miners would leave their veins to see the disturbance. As more workers saw the unrest, more would shout out. A riot started to brew.
'Four months, you said! Four months! After which, I would never have to return!' Rex bellowed across the mine. Slowly, guards edged towards Rex from all sides, readying a rescue. The guards arong Rex and the grappled Mister Chesterwick all shouted out to him, but they all seemed invisible to Rex. 'Lucky for you, my stay here has taught me one thing!' Rex added.
'Oh yeah? Just what might that be?' Chesterwick replied in panic. His eyes flickering between the enraged miner holding him, and the long drop below him.
'Cyclonia must fall!' Rex shouted one last time, before letting go of Chesterwick's legs. As he did so, a guard from behind Rex grabbed him and pinned him to the floor. As for Chesterwick, he would be lucky enough to be caught by two guards before he could truly fall, both guards grabbing a foot each. Chesterwick's screaming echoed across the mines, silencing the crowd until they noticed him being hoisted back up and over the right side of the fence. This erupted the crowd into a frenzy. Riotous shouts and chants filled the air. Rex, now apprehended, would be marched out of the pit. Behind him, the two guards dusted down Chesterwick, making sure he was okay.
'Shall we have him disposed of, Minister?' One guard suggested.
'No' Chesterwick quickly replied. 'No, make sure he stays in the lower levels of the mines. It's his tenure here that shall serve as his punishment'
Rex's march out of the mines was one of wrathful silence. There was no attempt to reason, no attempt to explain away what was said or done. Rex had no peace from the encounter, but he would be undeterred in his cause.
Rex's march would finish a hundred or so metres away from the pit, next to a brutalist building of large, grey brick. It was two storeys tall, with the ground floor's small windows having thick steel bars in regular groupings. Rex stopped in place upon command as the guard circled around him and opened the heavy wooden door into the building. Without any words being exchanged, Rex entered the building.
The inside of this building was dark, and quiet. First was the reception. a thin slither of a room, of which half of its area would be two wide reception desks, with a gap between them that lead to the holding area. The guard had Rex halt in front of the gap as he spoke the relevant details about Rex to one of the receptionists. Once documented, the receptionist motioned both the guard and Rex through. Through this reception area layed a corridor with numerous jail cells to either side. Rex walked past each of these cells, noting how thin they were. Each cell held one prisoner, and was only wide enough for their beds and only a slim amount more. These beds were made of tarnished steel, and had hard mattresses that made Rex's back ache only from the sight of them. The cells had full walls to either side, yet the wall with the cell door was made from a bunch of steel beams that stretched from floor to ceiling, and a couple of beams that reinforced the bars from moving side to side. Each cell housed a face that looked up at Rex with a rude, hardened attitude. Fitting, considering his own bitter emotional frame at this point in time. Finally near the end of the corridor, Rex would be instructed to wait again; as the guard would open a cell that Rex had just walked by. Rex silently obliged the guard as he entered the cell, and waited for the guard to close the steel-barred door. Once closed, the guard locked it, and walked back up the direction he came from. The corridor of cells stayed quiet until the guard left it. As soon as the prisoners were left alone, Rex heard whisperings and talkings between the cells. Slowly the volume of his new neighbours increased. All he did whilst listening to the nothings of jail-talk was let out a large sigh.
'Hey! New guy!' Rex suddenly heard from across the corridor. He looked out to the cell opposite, and found the occupant of that cell slumped onto the bars, with his arms crossed and dangling out into the corridor. 'What are you in for then?' He playfully said with a smile. The man was slightly shorter than Rex, had roughly combed, black hair, and a tanned skin tone. On his right cheek sat two scars, both arcing around his lip from a few inches away.
Rex stayed put, looking at him silently. 'Ahh, I see. One of those that need names first, huh?' The prisoner opposite added after a few seconds of silence. He reached one of his hands out into the corrridor as far as possible, offering a handshake. 'The name's Darius, I've been here the longest, and I'm finally getting let out in a few days' He announced pridefully.
'I'm Rex. I don't know when I'll be out' He coldly replied, not taking any effort to try and meet Darius' hand.
'Rex?!' Darius replied, shocked. He pulled his hand back and stood tall, gripping the bars with hands. 'You're the minister here, aren't you?' He asked.
'Was' Rex answered. 'Mister Chesterwick is the minister now. He tricked me in order to do so' He added, still holding anger in his voice. 'He's gearing the guards up to try and whip out more productivity out of us when the time comes'
'We were already at capacity when I got put here. Hell, that's why I was put here. I caned one of the guards back when they tried to give me a hiding. Almost paralysed the chap' Darius cheerfully replied, still keeping himself inside his cell; not quite relaxing yet.
'That's my thought exactly' Rex agreed. He finally shuffled up to the bars, and leant against them. He paused for minute, breathing deeply and looking to the side. 'Suppose... No, it's a bad idea...' He mumbled out loud.
'Suppose what?' Darius questioned, biting on Rex's bait. He began to stand freely, finally loosening up. 'What are you planning?'
'I was just thinking... Suppose I could get to the head office, I could try to reclaim my place as minister' Rex suggested, if only to gauge interest from his opposing resident.
Darius leant forward quickly, telling his 'boys' in the cells near him to quiet down. 'You mean, we stage a coup? Only for you to restore yourself in the status quo?' Darius quickly asked, his eyebrows furling and his voice turning serious.
'More than that' Rex corrected. 'I've seen what you go through. Hell, I've gone through it too. If we can take this Terra in one fast action, we could probably keep it as ours' Rex added, trying desperately to convince Darius. 'We could finally break the Cyclonian empire's stranglehold on the Atmos'
'I don't know...' Darius quietly mumbled. Looking to the side and thinking with a sense of doubt. Rex addressed him to catch his ear once more.
'Think about it. We learnt to fly nearly five hundred years ago. The Cyclonian empire has held most of the skies in their control for the past three hundred of those years. If ever there was a chance, it's now' Rex rallied. The cells going down the corridor started to chant one single word: fight. 'I know my own office. I have maps and charts of the Terras that surround us. Flying a skimmer is easy enough done. We can gather support from Terras that are still outside of Cyclonian rule. Hell, we can free more Terras, too. Anything to-'
'Stop' Darius instrcuted. Cutting Rex's speech short and silencing the prisoners' chanting. With a few seconds' silence to steady his mind, Darius readied his response. Taking in a breath, he spoke his mind. 'Can you guarantee victory?' Darius solemnly said.
'No' Rex quickly, and boldly replied. 'I cannot; but you know as much as I do just what conditions we are working in. Surely a better future is worth fighting for' Darius paused, hearing Rex's words. The prisoners started to chant again, and Darius stood tall again, pulling a smirk.
'That, you are right about. Consider me at your service' Darius finally replied, convinced.
Darius, as he had said, was released over the next few days. Rex's tenure lasted a little longer, although soon, he too was released. On the day of his release, he exchanged no words until the time was right. The guard came to unlock his cell and they walked in silence out of the jails. The sun blared on Rex once more, yet he took no pleasure in soaking the rays on his skin. Rather, he looked at the security detail. He had one guard escorting him back to the pit, another at the pit entrance, and around a dozen dotted about the site as general surplus men. Finally crossing the threshold into the pit, Rex peeked over the fence, down the whole, and spotted nearly another dozen guards placed regularly on the path down to the bottom. Rex descended deeper into the pit, passing entry points to the mineshafts. He looked at the shafts as he walked past, until he locked eyes with the silent, but very much aware Darius. Darius gave a knowing nod, and left Rex alone as he passed by.
Once Rex passed Darius, however, Darius rotated his pickaxe in his hand; holding it upside down. He sprinted for Rex's guard, and jabbed the butt of his pickaxe into the bend of the guard's back. The blunt force stopping the guard in his tracks, and causing him to slowly tip forward. As the guard fell, Darius clasped his belt and pulled the baton from its stow.
The guard hit the floor, and was met with a couple of miners who quickly tied him up, immobilising him. Darius gently passed the pickaxe to Rex and motioned him to the fencing, so that he could address the workers in the pit. Rex, stood tall and with unshaken confidence, reached the fence.
'Out time has come! Reclaim the land you walk! This Terra...' Rex raised his pickaxe in a symbolic gesture, 'Will be ours!'
Rex's battle cry caused most all of the workers to wake from their dreariness into a renewed sense of passion, as they started to rush the quickly overwhelmed guards. Each guard would end up being surrounded, pinned, and tied by a group of a half dozen rioters. The remaining majority of rioters started to climb the path out of the pit. Darius nudged Rex along, heading the march. The uprising. The charge for freedom. The chanting and shouting behind them filling the air with a dizzying, almost intoxicating rile that would carry through and stir everyone into action. Finally approaching the gates out of the pit, Rex and Darius saw how the gates in front of them started to swarm with guards. armed with batons that they rhythmically beat against shields that they wore in case of a riot like this. Darius pulled Rex to a halt, causing the whole riot behind them to pause in their tracks.
'Now, we storm the gates!' Darius commanded, rousing the crowd in Rex's stead. 'We push forward, for our future!' He added, throwing his arm out in front of him. Although his sentence would be drowned out by the immediate shouting from the charging crowd; who enveloped the two leaders as they held back a little in pace. The crowd reached the gate, and like a wave, splashed up against it. The shouting became chants, counting up to a push, trying to break the gate itself. These chants repeated a couple of times, before the gate finally gave way and the rioters poured through. Rex and Darius were left at the back of the pack by this point, and they watched as the guards started to get caught in the tidal surge of revolution. Darius turned to Rex and egged him to go. 'Now, we've done our part. It's time you do yours'
'I understand' Rex affirmed. Joining Darius in making a charge for the gate. He and Darius sidestepped the majority of the chaos at the pit exit and made a run for the building containing his old office. This involved them running alongside the building that held the jail cells. Darius stopped at the entrance to said building, and ushered Rex on; who nodded in agreement and started to run for the next, larger building. He could hear behind him Darius commanding the crowd to follow and protect Rex. The madness and chaos died down a little in Rex's mind as he reached that larger building.
The short, freshly cut lawn and slightly dry soil underneath resonating the myriad of footsteps as a constant, crashing thunder as the pit workers descended on the larger, manor-esque building. On the roof, a large cage filled with firewood started to burst into flames. This fire would start a chain of other locations nearby to start to smoke, evidence of fires in those locations. The house keepers tried in desperation to shut and lock the doors, but would find themselves out paced by the tirade of riotus workers, who forced the doors open before they could be locked.
The manor house began to fill with panicked screams as it filled with rioters at an uncontrollable pace, spilling through all of the corridors. Rex, however, raced up the main stairway. From the ground floor to the first floor. Up on the first floor, Rex pounded his feet along the once pristine carpets. Each step forcing yet another dusty footprint into it. The corridors wound on seemingly forever until Rex finally found the door to his old office room. Holding the door knob, he shoulder barged the door open. Causing the smartly dressed, suited Mister Chesterwick to stand up from his chair in fear. 'What is the meaning of this?' He shouted.
'I'm taking back what is rightfully ours' Rex said, gnashing his teeth, and tensing his fist. Rex looked around him, noting how the office had changed only a little since he was the one stationed in it.
'This job isn't yours anymore. I filled the role in your absence' Mister Chesterwick defended.
'I'm not on about my job. Not anymore' Rex clarified, as he started to strafe around Mister Chesterwick. 'I'm going to free this Terra from Cyclonian control'
Hearing Rex's declaration, Chesterwick fell silent for a moment. 'So, that's where we are then. An act of treason' He quietly replied. Mister Chesterwick jumped backwards, into the bookshelf, and grabbed one of the items that Rex hadn't remembered from his tenure. It was a scabbard, with a sabre inside. Mister Chesterwick drew the weapon and stood defensively, holding the blade in both hands and standing with it pointed straight out, towards Rex. This sudden armament caused Rex to recoil in shock for a moment, before realising that whilst Chestwerwick was indeed armed; he stood like an amateur at best. Seeing this opportunity, Rex smirked a little, and stood with bent knees and a wide footspan. Chesterwick waddled a little as he slowly reached a close enough range. Finally close enough, he lunged forward with a single chop from the sword. Rex dodged the attack, sliding to the right. Desperately, Chesterwick swung once more, from the side this time. Rex dodged that too. Rex took his time to get used to Chesterwick's dexterity, and when it came time for another swing of the sword, Rex lurched forward, and twisted Chesterwick's wrists. Forcing the sword out of his grip. The frenzied scramble froced the two to wrestle to the floor. With Chesterwick wildly flailing and thrashing to try to escape the grasp of the physically laboured and trained Rex. It proved fruitless. Rex would have him pinned and unable to move.
'Submit' Rex simply instructed. Holding Chesterwick until he stopped struggling. At this point, Rex would be joined by a small group of pit workers that entered the room as well. Rex had them grab Chesterwick and escort him out of the manor, towards the pit. Meantime, Rex would focus on climbing the stairs to the roof. Seeing how the large cage, at least his own height, burned with ferocity, Rex looked around him for anything to extinguish the flames. He spotted a couple of large buckets full of water. Grasping the buckets, he threw the water into the base on the flame, one bucket at a time, until the flame died out. Rex looked out into the distance, and saw how there were spots of smoke in his distant view. Realising what it meant, he grabbed his sabre, and rushed back down from the roof. Making his way back to the pit.
Rex would meet up with Darius once again at the building where the detention cells were housed. Rex noticed how the riot had seemingly calmed down, and the workers all quietly escorted and dragged the guards into the large building, holding them in the cells. Amongst these guards was Mister Chesterwick, dragged down to the pit by the workers who followed Rex into the manor. Rex called for Chesterwick's escort to stop, and to bring him over. The workers forcefully budged Chesterwick out of the queue and over to between Rex and Darius. The workers that dragged him iver kicked him to his knees, then continued as they were.
'This is your only chance' Rex warned, drawing the sabre and pointing its tip to Chesterwick's head. Darius looked at Rex with shock, as did Chesterwick. Darius began to call Rex's name, trying to grab his attention. Rex ignored him. 'Give this Terra to us' he instructed. Chesterwick only looked up at him with fear. Remaining silent. Rex pulled the blade up, crossing his chest and rising above his head.
'Rex. This isn't part of the plan' Darius pleaded. 'You'll have to carry this everywhere you go, Rex. Stop' Again, Rex ignored Darius, focusing on Chesterwick's silence.
'So be it' Rex solemnly said. Charging up his swing and starting to throw his blade down toward Chesterwick's neck.
'Okay! Okay!' Chesterwick sharply screeched, flinching as the shimmering blade descended. Rex stopped the sabre, ans kept it still, hovering a few inches from Chesterwick. Rex's hands trembled, and the blade started to wobble as he held it in place. 'I'll give you the Terra...' Chesterwick added in lamentation. Rex paused for a second before throwing his blade beside him.
He crouched down and reached into Mister Chesterwick's interior jacket pocket and pulled out both a small booklet, no bigger than his hand, and a small, crude pencil. Rex opened the booklet towards the rear. Flicking through until finding the right page. He tossed the booklet to the floor and dropped the pencil on top. Coldly commanding Darius to untie Chesterwick, Rex then demanded Chesterwick sign the booklet at that page. Mister Chesterwick bent over, and picked up the pencil with trembling hands. He signed his name in the booklet with a tear brewing in his eye. 'There... it's done. It's yours...' He added, his shaking hands holding out the booklet and pencil up to Rex. Who grabbed it, opened it once more, flicked to the back page, and motioned Darius to stand beside him.
'Send out workers in pairs to get the fire beacons put out. Tell them to follow the smoke, and use the code "Jester-Bound" so that the guards at these towers comply' Rex bluntly commanded. Darius nodded and shouted out to a large group of miners. 'Lock this one up with the others' Rex added, looking down at Chesterwick with disdain. The large group approached, and one of the workers from the group pulled Mister Chesterwick away. The others in the large group, meanwhile, were being given instructions from Darius to run to the small plumes of smoke in the distance. With the group dispersed, Darius took the time to speak to Rex again.
'I'm glad you spared him' Darius quietly said to Rex.
'As much as I didn't want to, I wouldn't have the guts to commit anyway. It was all to get him to sign the book before any aerial patrols-' Rex started to explain before noticing a quiet buzzing noise, he looked up and froze in place.
In the air above, about three hundred feet in the air, Rex spotted an aircraft. A skimmer, flying in a large circle over the Terra. It completed a full circle before flying into the distance and out of sight.
'Oh no...' Rex mumbled. 'I thought I had more time...'
'What is it Rex?' Darius commented, snapping Rex into action.
'We need rides' Rex bluntly said as he turned to the group of workers slowly starting to gather. 'Alright, listen up! I thought we had longer to mount a defence, but those signal fires mean we've been scouted out' The crowd started to murmur amongst themselves. 'As we speak, a flight of Cyclonians will be coming to try and take back the Terra we fought to claim as our own. For us to have a chance, I need pilots to join me. Does anyone know how to fly a skimmer?'
The crowd fell silent.
'Nobody knows how to fly? No one at all?' He asked once more. Yet again, he was met with silence. 'This is not good... that leaves us on the back foot...' Rex quietly said to himself.
'Welp' One of the workers in the crowd sounded out. 'It was nice whilst it lasted' they lamented. Rex turned and looked up at the sky where the skimmer they spotted did their rounds.
'...I have to fight them' He realised. He looked around the area outside of the pit, and in the distance, found a skimmer parked against a tree. Darius shot him a look of confused panic.
'You what? Rex, you have no army, no weapons, how are you going to fight them?' Darius questioned as Rex jogged away to the tree.
'I have wheels and I have a sword' Rex called back. 'What I need you to do is find me some protective gear and to gather a bunch of the crystals we mine into a couple of bags!' He added, still getting further and further away. Darius would have protested Rex's instruction, yet before he could, Rex gave him one last shout, 'Don't question me. We haven't got the time!'
Rex continued his walk up to the tree holding up the skimmer, coloured in a red primary and off-white secondary colour scheme. The skimmer itself had a motorcycle fuselage, with panels covering the front half of the engine on both sides. Its wings were unfolded, standard for vehicles of that time and type. Each wing being one continuous shape with a span that was nearly three quarters of Rex's height per wing. It had clearly been rolled back, up to the tree. The skimmer lacked any rear attachments, with its propulsion coming from the centre mounted engine and a set of propellers mounted on the centre of each wing. Inspecting the skimmer's general condition, Rex found himself sure that it would be satisfactory for his needs. Climbing onto it, he felt how the suspension dampen a slight amount with a small squeak. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. The seat was padded leather, the controls were set wide to try and encourage a more prone position whilst riding, and with his overall comfort on the skimmer being quite favourable to him, Rex had his mind set.
Rex planted one of his feet on the foot rest, pulled his body up, and in one large exertion of force, pushed down hard on the starter pedal. The engine would sputter and purr for a few seconds before coughing and cutting out. Rex repeated his starting procedure, and the skimmer did almost the same thing. Sputtering to a short life before stalling out again. 'Come on... now isn't the time, girl' Rex lifted himself again, and slammed his foot on the starter pedal again, hard enough to grunt as he fell into the seat.
The engine turned once, twice, three times, and by the fourth cycle, the propellors started to rotate, and the engine fully coughed to life. The immediate air around Rex quickly smelt of unburned fuel, and the buzz from the engine stabilised. Looking around his immediate front, at the skimmer's frame and attachments, Rex slowly started to roll the skimmer forward; before pushing his foot down on the gear selector and using the bike's power to move.
Rex puttered the skimmer across the gap from the tree to where Darius and the workers stood. In the time Rex had spent inspecting the skimmer for air-worthy travel, the workers had all gathered the items Rex asked for. Rex turned the skimmer out and into a wide bank, finally stopping near the workers, but facing away from them. He pulled the gear shifter into neutral and let the bike sit.
'This is all we could muster...' Darius started to explain as he started to list off what they could spare. 'A set of pauldrons, elbow and knee guards, plus a set of goggles to keep the wind out of your eyes...' He added, handing the items to Rex for him to awkwardly put on, with the skimmer still between his legs. Darius picked up a large bike bag, with pockets on both sides, he walked over and attached it behind Rex's seat whilst Rex buckled the last of his pads. 'As for crystals, all we could find was fuel crystals, well, except for this one' Darius said, as he reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a jagged and clear red crystal set in a rock at its base. It shimmered and glowed in its high carat sheen.
'A blaze crystal, high carat fuel crystal' Rex observed with wide eyed intrigue, hands still pulling the goggles onto his forehead. He quickly snapped out of it, and looked back at Darius with slight confusion. 'That'll melt my engine. What do I do with it?' He asked.
Darius looked around Rex and his skimmer, trying to find a use for the high value stone. Finally looking on Rex's sword that he had stowed on the scabbard on his waist. Looking at the base of the hilt, Darius noticed a slot that looked about the right size for a crystal to nestle into. Darius quickly pulled the sword out and held it high in the air. With the blade shining in the sun, Darius pushed the blaze crystal into the sword, becoming the pommel.
The sword shook violently and burst into life. The blade's perfectly casted metal was engulfed in a solid red. The heat from the red engulfment gently warming Darius' hand as subconscious notice of its activation. Rex's jaw dropped as he saw the sword that he stowed in his office for his duration as minister with an ability he was ignorant to. Darius pulled the crystal pommel out, and the blade fell dormant again. Darius handed the two items to Rex and stood clear. 'Well I guess you learn something new everyday' Rex mumbled in amazement, slipping the blaze crystal into the pocket on his shirt's chest and sheathing his sword once more. 'Okay. We're looking at around a dozen Cyclonian skimmers and a carrier. Mobilise the workers in case of a ground assualt. We may outnumber them, but they won't shy away from violence' Rex instructed. Pulling the clutch and pushing the gear shifter down again.
'Got it' Darius affirmed.
'See you on the other side' Rex said with a smile. Still holding the clutch in one hand, he pulled his goggles over his eyes with the other, before twisting the throttle and releasing the clutch.
The engine's revolutions slowly climbed to a higher speed, carrying the skimmer forward, and the wing mounted propellors to a faster speed. Soon the engine began to redline, causing Rex to pump the clutch again and, using his foot, pull the gear shifter upwards, into neutral, and then up once more into second. The engine started to pick up more speed, and the skimmer started to feel lighter, causing the balance to weaken. Rex pushed the handlebars down, pushing the wings into a dive and forcing the bike's tyres to stay planted on the ground as the speed kept increasing. At the peak of his second gear, Rex shifted up into third, the final gear, and kept pushing the wings down. Seeing the trees ahead closing in at an ever increasing pace, Rex started to grow anxious over his speed, but soon, he felt he was travelling fast enough. He pulled the wings out of their diving position and angled them slightly upwards. The wheels left the floor, the rotors spun at full speed, and Rex jammed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the likelihood that he would plow into the tree canopies instead of rising above.
Rex had not felt or heard any collision, however. Rather, an eerie, yet serene lightness to match the wind coursing through his hair. The sounds of the ground ceased, all he could hear was the propellors popping along at a healthy pace. Rex finally opened his eyes. He was flying. Flying above the Terra.
The ground was becoming a smaller and smaller world for Rex as the altitude of his aircraft edged ever higher. Looking down at the Terra below, he finally found how small it really was. He had hardly been flying for a minute, and already, the edge of the Terra neared. The Terra's end would lead his eyes forward, and to the source of his worries. A Cyclonian carrier with a half-dozen skimmers as escort. These skimmers were piloted by Cyclonian troops that were only armed with blades.
The carrier was an almost obscenely large aeroplane styled in sparse equipment and a regular array of crimson panels along its length. It was wide enough in the cockpit for four to stand shoulder to shoulder comfortably and the fuselage that traveled most of the way down the plane was long enough and wide enough to house the other six skimmers with their pilots in a row, with their full wing span intact. Leaving barely enough room to walk around. The sheer length of the plane required a wing span of nearly equal amount, with three propellor engines perched on each wing. Under the plane, attached by deployable cables sat a spare skimmer, folded in a way as to mitigate wind flow obstruction. Inside the plane was the two pilots, who was overseen by a Cyclonian captain. The Captain supervised the view in front with a stoic, steadfast expression.
Rex, finding himself about to make contact, drew his sword and held it in front of him as a signal of his intent. Seeing this act of aggression, the Captain shouted out to the skimner pilots behind him; commanding them to prepare for combat. The distance between Rex and the Cyclonians closed, and the six skimmers that flew ahead of the carrier all bunched into a pseudo wall; pulling as close to each other as they dared. Rex stayed undeterred, and aimed for one of the gaps. Once set, he clicked a button on the base of the throttle, locking it as it is. With both hands free, Rex reached into his chest pocket and grabbed the blaze crystal. Quickly, he jammed it into the sword to become its pommel again. The sword lit up once more and let out a slight streak from the speed that Rex was travelling at. Rex readied himself for a large swing, and continued his approach to the gap in the wall.
Rex pulled his swing as his skimmer passed through the gaps the skimmers had left. The blade carried through the air from one flank to the other in a rapid movement. Rapid enough for the blade to pull a large streak. The streak extended out of his sword's tip, too. The sword's swing would end up catching every skimmer in the way. Each skimmer being cleanly sliced in two at each point of impact. Some lost half of their wing, others lost everything rear of their engines; all, however, were left with aircraft that were damaged beyond repair. The Captain, still staring at the carnage in front him, shouted out to the six remaining skimmers 'Weapons hot!'. They were given the green light to engage, and one by one, they deployed themselves. The air, already permeated with the drones of the large carrier's engines, filled with the whining scrambles of skimmer engines. 'Let's see what you're really made of then, huh?' The Captain would then mumble to himself, watching Rex as he pulled his skimmer into an ascent, followed by a wide bank.
The aerial battle had wore on for long enough that the carrier finally made landfall, the ground below being the Terra that Rex had been fighting this whole time to defend. From below, Darius and the newly freed workers watched the battle ensue with bated breath.
As Rex banked his skimmer around to face the front of the carrier, his sword still held awkwardly in one of his hands, he looked out to the carrier's rear to see the freshly deployed skimmers enter the fray. 'Okay Rex, keep it together now...' He spoke under his breath, ready for combat. Facing his adversaries on their skimmers, Rex held his sword out behind him, letting out a long red trail behind him. His focus unshaken, until he suddenly saw flashing on the Cyclonian skimmers' wings. These six skimmers had been mounted with a pair of rudimentary blasters. This snapped Rex out of his positioning, and immediately put him on the defensive. Banking towards the carrier once more, Rex kept close to the large aircraft, trying to use its presense as a deterrant to being fired upon; at least for long enough to drop out of range. Rex's banking circled around the carrier, slowly climbing in altitude as he did so. Cresting over the carrier, Rex noticed how the Cyclonians appeared to follow his skimmer instead of trying to sneak up on him, the half dozen skimmers all proceeding in a tight spiral. Looking at this, and the fairly flat roof of the carrier, Rex took a gamble and, once he quickly positioned himself over the carrier, pushed into a landing, and cut the engine.
Rex's landing on the carrier's roof was surprisingly light considering the rush. He locked the brakes and downward wing angle before standing up, skimmer between his legs, and holding his sword vertically in the air. He waited for the skimmers to start rising from the flanks of the carrier, and once he could see the tips of their front wheels appear, Rex started to whirl his sword into a large circle. The trail extending further and further out as he spun faster and faster. This large trail of the sword would miss the first two skimmers on each side, but collide with the skimmers after them, forcing them to collide with the skimmers at the back of the lines. Of the last two skimmers, one kept climbing, unphased; whilst the other flailed desperately to keep stable. The flailing would serve as a hinderance, however, and their skimmer would dive, and crash its wings into two of the carrier's engines, the skimmer losing said wings and now plummeting to the Terra below. The crash caused a loud bang and an excessive judder. Rex felt the aircraft beneath him start to slowly fall. Letting instinct take over, Rex smashed his foot into the kick-starter to start the engine. Thankfully it responded on the first attempt, and he quickly revved the skimmer's engine to drive it off of the carrier's roof. In need for a quick bout of speed, Rex pushed his skimmer into a swooping dive. The bottom of which flying over the top of the pit, with Rex only a dozen feet off of the grass, the deafening roar of the engine causing the spectators below to duck and cover their ears.
Pulling up, and catching up once again, Rex eyed the carrier's open rear hatch, and attempted to approach. The Captain, watching how the carrier was slowly going to crash, reached forward to one of the controls positioned between the pilots, and briskly yanked one of the levers. Under the carrier, the folded skimmer violently came undone and swung by the cables still attached to the front of the now outstretched wings. The spare skimmer's ropes hung it a dozen or so feet behind the rear hatch, and left enough gap for another skimmer to slip in between. Seeing this gap, Rex swung around, and steadied his throttle to keep himself level in the space. Face to face with the Captain, who was readying to jump onto the spare skimmer, Rex pulled out the small booklet that he made Mister Chesterwick sign, and opened it to the signed page.
'When you're at your knees in front of Queen Cyclonis, begging for your life, tell her this: Terra Petrolis is free, and mark my words, this is only the beginning!' Rex demanded. He lifted his sword, and pulled out the blaze crystal. The blade faded back to metal. 'Now then, I believe you have a flight to catch!' He added, pulling up and away.
The carrier was now around thirty feet from the ground, Rex pulled his brakes for a moment and pulled up, revving the skimmer to fly away. Waiting behind him was the last of the carrier's skimmer escort, and once Rex moved out of the safety of cover, the final Cyclonian skimmer opened fire. This sudden attack sent Rex into a frenzied roll in a desperate attempt to escape. The commotion offered the Captain ample opportunity to leap from the carrier and onto the spare skimmer. Once embarked, the Captain made short work of starting his engine and detaching the ropes holding it onto the soon to be wreck. Now free, the Captain circled the final skimmer. 'Fall back' He ordered, causing the last skimmer pilot to start to complain; only to be interrupted by the Captain once more. 'That's an order! Leave them and let's go!'
Rex's skimmer only stopped its aerial rolling once it was about to land, which Rex did by pulling up and stalling the lift. Causing him to fall the last few feet and bursting the tyres from the impact. The handlebars jerked side to side violently as Rex let the skimmer roll to a halt. Over his head, he saw the Cyclonian carrier continue to descend, until it disappeared under the tree canopies. Letting out a deep sigh as he did so. Rex had just tackled a Cyclonian attack force. A small one at that, but even a small force would have seemed insurmountable only hours before. Now, however, Rex took the time to catch his breath and take in the quiet.
The quiet was something that quickly died out, as the populace of the Terra cheered and shouted with glee. Rex wheeled his skimmer most of the way back, but once the workers found him, they all joined in the push. Everybody gathered around the pit, where Darius was waiting. The excitement and chitter was high as the workers expected Darius and Rex to give a speech over their Terra's newfound liberation.
'Friends, Colleagues, and Citizens!' Rex began, addressing the crowd. 'Our efforts have paid off! This Terra is ours to keep!' The crowd cheered in unison, almost akin to a war cry. Darius took the chance to chime in with Rex's speach.
'Under Cyclonian rule, we were known as Terra Petrolis, but now that we're free, I say we claim this land as Terra Atmosia. The capital of the Free Atmos!' He declared, sparking more excitement from the crowd. Rex waited for his turn, for the crowd to die down once more, so he could speak again.
'Although we have reclaimed this land, our struggle is not over. Cyclonia is going to fight to get it back, we will not let them. And we will not be alone. When the new day dawns on our renewed Terra, our beautiful Terra, I will leave. Leave, and find more Terras. More lands to liberate, and more lands to co-operate. I will not rest... we, will not rest... until Cyclonia has burnt to the ground!' Rex took a moment to pause. The cheering and yelling of the people would surely drown his words out otherwise. 'Whilst I am away, I have a favour to ask. These prisoners of ours, our old captors. We will treat them with compassion. We will treat with respect. We will show them, that life outside of the empire is better than their life within... and we will do this not because we are weak, but because we are strong. Strong as a collective. A collective that works together. Our prisoners will want to break their chains not to escape, but to live in harmony. We will do this by giving our prisoners control over the pit, and only the pit. They shall show us that they are ready to live as one of us, because they will know that as one of us, their life will be better than their life under the empire'
Darius stepped forward and loudly responded 'I promise'. One by one, the crowd around both him and Rex all repeated Darius' response, until everyone in the crowd gave their promise. Darius leaned in close to Rex as they both left. The crowd cheering and applauding around them. 'I hope you know what you're doing when it comes to finding friends out there' he whispered to Rex.
'I'll be honest Darius, I'm still riding the adrenaline and ego from taking out a Cyclonian fleet. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm going to make it work regardless' Rex candidly replied.
Terra Atmosia had sunny weather for that day, but elsewhere in the Atmos, lied a Terra of constant thunder and darkness. On this Terra stood a vast castle, with tall rooms and painted glass windows. Inside one of these great rooms of the castle was a lone woman, stood facing away from a large and ornate set of wooden doors, and facing one of the impressively large windows. Between her and the window sat a large semi circular table that had a neatly arranged set of crystals covering its length. The crystals all hummed and shined like voices in an unholy choir. The woman had hair that was a deep, dark purple, and it hung over the front of her shoulders, with a pony tail of the same length out the back of her head. She stood tall and strong. Shoulders naturally broad, and her build being slim with a hint of musculature in places. Her skin was without imperfection, yet was pale as a spectre. Her clothing consisted of a plain black dress, reaching from her shoulders to her ankles, and a shawl that was a rich crimson. The shawl had many decorations to it, feathers of many patterns hanging from under it, a Cyclonian insignia on the centre, and a set of long spines that stood on edge, emphasising and amplifying the silhouette of the Queen of Cyclonia. The Queen's eyes were closed and she held her hands out, slowly twitching her fingers as each crystal's hum faded in and out. Her cheek started to twitch, and after a few seconds of such, her hands stopped. Fingers outstretched. Her eyes opened. The silence from her own form faded with a sigh.
Still facing away from the door, the Queen swished her hand, the palm of which shined a dull red. The door would open from the hand's swish, and reveal two royal guards escorting the Captain and the last skimmer pilot from the battle for Rex's Terra. The Queen stayed as she was, looking ominiusly out of the window, into the storny skies. 'Where is your underlings, captain?' She quietly and expectantly asked. The Captain panicked and mumbled for a second before answering.
'Captured, your highness. Imprisoned on Terra Petrolis' He finally answered.
'Terra Petrolis belongs to the empire, captain' The Queen reminded.
'It seems that is no longer true, your majesty. We were attacked, and before I could escape, The leader of the coup showed me in person that the book of Terra ownership had been signed...' The Captain explained.
'Pilot' She slightly turned her head and addressed the skimmer pilot next to the Captain to look directly at her. 'Tell me. How numerous was this attack force against you?' The skimmer pilot froze for a moment, and stuttered a little, trying desperately to reply. 'I'm waiting, pilot. How many were you and your dozen strong force up against?'
'I, uhh... one...' The Pilot finally said.
'One...' The Queen replied, smiling as she pulled her head down for a second.
Without warning, the Queen held her arm out horizontally, hand expectant for the staff that she pulled from the wall with some kind of crystal infused magic that her subjects did not understand. Once in her hand, she turned around on the spot, and sent a red bolt of electricity to the Pilot. Knocking him off of his feet and flinging his body against the wall next to the door with little effort. Before the Captain could react, the Queen seemed to warp from where she stood to right in front of his face.
'You lost one of my Terras to some puss-filled boil on a flying bike‽' The Queen shouted. Her voice booming through the core of the Captain and dragging his stomach to the floor. The sense of impending doom causing his final shreds of confidence to implode.
'He got the book signed!' The Captain pleaded. 'That means he has to be an insider! Or at least someone who knows the inner workings of the upper class...'
The Queen's staff swayed in her hand, shaking from her growing anger, before leaning back a little. 'An insider, you say? Well then... I shall have Terra Petrolis on a silent watch. Perhaps a couple of Nightcrawlers keeping track on our posh little revolutionary. As for you, Lieutenant...' The Queen spoke, reaching under her shawl. The newly demoted Lieutenant felt a sharp pain in his pride, and ignored the dark purple stone the Queen pulled from her shawl. 'You are to be redeployed to another attack force. Perhaps the experience shall save you from falling fate to this...' She menacingly instructed. Pointing the purple, ominous stone at him. She held it close enough and long enough to the Lieutenant to smell the air of death around it. The odor of death was a saccharine whiff of liquorice, with a thick, pungent undertone of musk, dust, and general decay of wood, or fabric, or even rusted metal.
The smells of this dark crystal burned the Lieutenant's nose, and clung to it as the Queen pulled it away. Turning around walking back to her table of crystals. Once there, she dismissed the two who had angered her.
'Complacency has become my enemy' She quietly mused. 'I will not make that mistake again...'