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The wide world calls for heroes,
and who will a hero be—
with a love for the whole
and a clear, steady soul,
And a spirit brave and free?
—A Song of Heroes,
Amos R Wells
The sky of the Land of Light hadn’t known dusk since the Plasma Spark first lit, long before Marie’s birth. Which made the plumes of inky smoke that choked the sky and tinged the air less ‘frightening’ than ‘apocalyptic.’
Marie ducked through an alley, her charges close behind her. She was fairly certain she’d lost their tail—Noa’s wings, how had Alien Empera’s goons found the shelters? Or had they not known, and this was truly all random destruction? Marie wasn’t sure which was worse, and at this point didn’t have the excess energy to care.
This particular group had been lucky thus far—no one was lagging behind, and no invaders had raised the alarm about stray civilians on a battlefiel. She and her medics, as few as they were, had grown adept at evading Empera’s forces, but with only her and a group of civilians this size…well, Marie played those odds often enough to know they couldn't stay lucky forever.
One of the younger ultras (Marie didn’t want to think how young he was) stumbled over the rubble, and automatically she moved to catch him: injured leg, worse than she’d realized. He wasn’t making it far like this—at best, he’d lag behind and be seen. Stifling a sound of frustration, Marie gathered healing energy into her hands and poured light into the boy’s leg—not as clean a fix as she’d like, but it would have to do—and pulled him back to his feet. “We’re almost there,” she promised. Glancing up at the rest of the group, she added: “The nearest entryway is two blocks further; at the intersection you’ll see a silver cross embossed over one of the grates. That’s the way in. We can move safely from there.”
She saw the older Ultras eyes widen as she spoke, and she wished she had a better rout. The ground shook deeper in that direction, the sounds of the dying thicker. But the next closest Silver Cross passage had collapsed when Empera’s lackeys had dropped a building over the entrance, and the only relief Marie could draw from it was that the building’s rubble hid the existence of the Silver Cross evacuation tunnels under the city.
They were still undetected, and as safe as any of them were likely to get. For now.
“Quickly,” Marie urged before any could argue, and—now confident the boy could make it without collapsing—waved the group after her. The fighting was too close to miss. Marie had already tuned it out—the roars, the shouts, the beams—and had to constantly remind herself that not everyone was so used to the chaos. Crystal shards cracked underfoot as her survivors stumbled for traction, each performing their own hasty mental calculus if it was worth flying, and making oneself a target from every directions. Every figure facing the sheer immediacy of their mortality, both as an individual and as a race.
And all Marie felt was tired.
Early in the war it had been easier. She’d been angry, then (she’d had the energy to be angry); angry and horrified and grieved, and everything else you were supposed to be when the world ended.
And then it kept ending. And ending. The jarring last note of their planet’s history became an endless drone; an undercurrent, impossible to escape or even mourn because the thing wouldn’t stop.
Outrage stopped mattering because it didn’t help. Grief lost its meaning when the bodies only piled higher.
And the world kept ending after that, too.
And Marie kept going, because what else could she do.
She saw the lull in the fighting she’d waited for. “Go, now!”
Blessedly this group needed no encouragement; those who froze initially saw the rest running, and clearly decided they preferred risking the invader’s notice over being left behind. It was the closest to relief Marie was likely to get—she could see someone fighting in the distance, surrounded by—thirty? fourty?—Ultra warriors, trading off blows and swapping out fighters in an effort to wear him down enough to finish off. She couldn’t make out the figure—large and dark; one of Empera’s generals, maybe?—but neither he nor his opponents noticed the civilians sprinting across the last stretch of open city before the cover of one more ally, and into the safety of the SC tunnels.
But one of the lackeys did. An Alien Magma, a hired killer—one who’d just seen easy prey.
They were out of time. If that Magma sounded the alarm, or brought more troops... “Keep going, quickly,” Marie snapped; “Someone’s stationed by the entrance and can get you the rest of the way. Move.” And before any could speak she ran at the Magma.
He boasted a bladed weapon—long, hard to use if she got in close—so she blazed forward and struck him solidly in the jaw with her elbow, then followed with a knee to the gut. It might have been cathartic, if she'd had the bandwidth for it.
She aimed a kick at her opponent, sending him skidding across the ground. The Magma tried to regain its footing, but was met with an energy beam to the chest, and he didn’t stir again. Marie turned back, breathing fast (too fast, she’d used too much energy, there was still so much to do)—and for the first time in centuries, felt her stomach lurch.
That wasn’t a general in the dark armor. That was Empera.
Alien Empera had arrived on the Land of Light.
Numbly Marie turned, praying she wouldn’t see any of her—blast it, the boy had stayed. As if he thought he could help. “Run,” she spat, but couldn’t wait to see if he obeyed.
Noa's wings, Empera didn’t even look injured. He stepped out of the way of an attack, kicking his assailant into one of his companions. Lightly—casually—Empera hefted his blade, and sent a slash of dark, thunderous energy into the crowd of Ultra warriors.
The shadow sheared through bodies like a blade through sunlight. Some didn’t even have time to scream.
(Marie did.)
Only the distance and the sheer quantity of bodies between her and the blast saved her. The breath left her body as the ground caught her ribs, and rolling with the impact did little to keep any air in her lungs.
In those last moments, Marie couldn’t even manage fear anymore. She hated, beyond words, that relief flooded her system at the realization that this really was the end. Empera's arrival meant the Land of Light had a matter of hours, if that. It was over, and even though they'd lost…well, at least they'd fought back. Whatever that counted for.
She was so tired.
“—ou alright, miss?”
Someone was shaking her shoulder. A wall of red and silver crouched between her and Empera, a timer close to her, pulsing, anchoring her back into the present. It took longer than it should have to push through the shock (Empera’s here, now, it's finally over), but she forced her vision back into focus. The figure—an Ultra warrior, from his posture—released his hold, stepping back to inspect her at arm's length. “Are you alright,” he repeated, gentler now.
He had Ultra Horns, Marie noted distantly. She’d never met this Ultra warrior, but few Horned ultras had survived Empera’s initial purge. She'd heard something, once, about a horned Ultra defeating Juda, centuries ago—if Marie were superstitious, she might have—huh. Her thoughts were wandering. She might be in shock, or maybe concussed from the impact.
The Ultra didn’t wait for an answer. “This part’s our job,” he said, tipping his chin towards Empera's ever-nearing silhouette. “You should get out of here.”
Marie, more because of their situation than despite it, almost laughed at how stupid that was. Had he not seen what Empera had just—! What part was 'his job,' the dying part? And yet…his face was completely serious. No bluster, no bravado—just a sort of quiet certainty that was hard to ignore. It made her want to trust him. It almost made her want to hope.
Marie forced herself to her feet, the horned warrior helping her up with a care that felt almost courtly, and managed a breathless: “Thank you.”
The man’s gaze flickered—not quite a smile, but a quiet relief around his eyes. “Now, quickly,” he prompted, before moving to stand by his friend—Marie hadn’t even seen the other ultra, though that in itself surprised her. His companion looked far more the part of a hero: almost a head taller than his comrade, with powerful shoulders and a telepathic light-field so powerful Marie belatedly realized she could barely sense the horned Ultra's field at all.
A Horned ultra and a powerhouse. A wild part of her wanted to stay and watch. To pray the two could make any sort of difference, to have any chance of–
No. No, they…they might have a chance. There was hope, if she could only get it in time.
So Marie ran. The ground blurred beneath her feet, and by a small miracle she didn’t lose her footing as she ran, more by instinct than sight, into the alley, through the grating, down to the muffled, relative safety of the Silver Cross tunnels.
Down to the only thing that could save them now.
~~~
Arms found Marie before her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the tunnel system, and she almost flinched away before she could identify her sister. “Ami, did everyone–?”
“Here, safe,” Ami confirmed; her voice sounded steady as ever, but her deep-set amber gaze—stern at the best of times—betrayed the fear of having seen the evacuees make it into the passages, with her younger sister conspicuously absent. “All medics accounted for but the ones we already know are down—we think we can revive nurse Juno, if we get enough people on it. You’re bleeding,” she added, and the knife-edge in her tone added a piercing note to a headache that was quickly setting in behind Marie’s eyes. “Light leave me, Marie, you need to be more careful; the Cross can’t afford to lo–”
“Ami,” Marie interrupted. “I need the Blade.”
Her sister went very still. “Excuse me?”
“Mom passed it to you, and we stand a chance if we use it now, but we have to move quickly.”
Ami winced. “You know how dangerous it is. Marie, it’s the Ultimate Blade. In the wrong hands—"
“Empera’s here,” Marie snapped, then lowered her voice. The passage looked empty, but voices carried, and panic in a crowded civilian evacuation tunnel could make the safe house a death trap. “I saw him. He’s here, right now, and we either use the Blade or he wipes out the Land of Light today.”
Ami's face went blank as she took in the immediacy of their planet's razing. Then, sounding very small, she managed: “We have to try, don’t we.”
It was less a statement of defiance than it was a surrender. It left an unspoken addendum: we’re dead already—it can’t make things worse. “Please,” Marie pressed.
Ami braced herself; lifted her arms, focused her light into a brilliant flash before her, and— with Marie fighting not to count every second YEE action took—summoned the Ultimate Blade of the Land of Light. She turned it over in her hands, distantly—dazed from the news, still—and Marie caught her reflection sliced against her sister’s in the blade.
“Thank you, Ami.”
Ami turned the sword, offering the hilt to her sister. As Marie took it, she managed: “You're not…going to try and use it yourself, right? You know what would happen."
Marie searched for a smile, and found something closer than she’d found in a while—though some of that was certainly a grimace of fear. “No. I'll see you when this is over.”
She couldn’t run forever—she couldn’t even run far now, Marie could feel her adrenaline wearing thin, she'd pushed herself too far already—but she could do this much.
So she ran, and hoped the world wouldn't end without her.
~~~
Impossibly, the two ultras were still alive when she emerged. Battered, but still in one piece—the horned figure was shouting what sounded like encouragement to his fellow, lifting his hands into fighting position, and the taller ultra forced himself upright, bracing himself for another go.
At the hint of closure, the adrenaline that had kept Marie upright the past several hours (or decades, depending how she counted) failed her. She made it to their side, narrowly avoiding tripping on the debris, half-crouching and half-collapsing behind the two warriors still struggling to their feet.
The horned figure whipped his head back at the sound, and visibly stiffened as he recognized her. “Why are you back? It’s not safe here!”
As if anywhere is safe. Now the safest place I can be is here. She forced herself upright and extended the sword in both hands. “For you,” she gasped.
His hand wrapped around the pommel like it had been made for him. His eyes traced the length of the blade, and she heard his breath catch. “This is..!”
Marie cut off the implicit question: “The holy sword of the Land of Light, yes, It’s been passed down in my family." Light, they didn’t have time for this, Empera was stalking towards them, she couldn’t sit here and explain—
But the Ultra only murmured: “The Ultimate Blade…” Then he lifted his gaze, nodded once, and stood, light from the blade dancing off his silver skin. “I will use this.”
And that was it. No claiming unworthiness, no bluster about being sure to win with it…not even a thank-you for trusting him with one of the most powerful relics the Ultras had.
Only a promise to use it.
In later years, Marie couldn’t remember if she prayed as the horned ultra drew the Blade’s power into himself. The Land of Light seemed to come alive again as a pulse of pure, blinding energy engulfed him, enveloping the world in—no, the golden light wasn't the dazzle of the glowing figure now face to face with Empera. The sky overhead flowed with gold, pouring pure light energy into a protective field around the two figures. A shield from the rest of the planet—no matter how brutal this fight, it would only risk the two of them.
Well, four. She and the other Ultra warrior were too close, and she lost sight of the city as the field solidified around them.
“That’s impossible.” The taller Ultra was staring at his horned friend—had those horns grown longer from the Blade’s power? “Ken can’t make a meta-field, he doesn't have that kind of power. That sword…” he whipped around to face her. “The hell did you give him?!”
But Marie couldn't tear her eyes away while the fate of her planet balanced on the edge of one man’s blade. For an infinite moment, the two figures—Ultra and Emperor—danced in the golden light. A swing, a parry, a spin out and away from a rebounding strike. The sparks from their blades vanished against the binding walls of their prison, and the two separated.
Then they ran at one another. Two swords flashed. And it was over.
The Ultra warrior crumbled, and golden blood pulsing from a long, jagged gash in his side. One hand lifted, tried vainly to staunch the bleeding, the other hand fighting to keep the holy sword from falling to the ground—
And then Empera fell, a mirroring slash opening across his own side as he collapsed, dead.
~~~
Marie couldn’t tell how much time passed, if any did. The world had stopped moving on its axis—they’d done it. It all hadn’t been for nothing.
They’d won.
“Hey! Oi, dumbass, get up!” The voice shook her back into herself, but it wasn’t addressing her; the warrior had moved and was shaking his friend, but the body lolled without resistance. “We did it,” he urged; “Empera’s dead, you got him! We made it this far—don’t give up on me now, damn you!”
Marie, frankly, still half-expected Empera to rematerialize—it couldn’t be over, they couldn’t have actually won—and dazedly moved to the horned ultra’s side, automatically scanning his vitals. No signs of life—no pulse, no light in his eyes or timer, no sense of his telepathic light-field. Still, his body hadn’t disintegrated; some scrap of him might still be alive.
He was still holding the Ultimate Blade, a part of her noticed. He’d done the impossible—Marie could return the favor. “I need you to move,” she said, putting a hand briefly on the living Ultra’s shoulder. “Give me space to work.”
Belial’s gaze snapped to her, blazing with too many emotions for Marie to name. Then his eyes caught her Silver Cross armband. “You’re a medic,” he realized. He gestured, but didn’t release his grip on his friend’s hand. “Well? Help him!”
If Marie had access to any actual help, she could have gotten someone to distract him. But she’d seen enough desperate friends and loves at their fallen soldier's bedsides to know they needed, more than anything, to feel useful. So she left him where he was and moved to study the corpse of the man who'd ended the war. He wasn’t tall like his friend, or nearly as sculpted; aside from his horns, he looked shockingly…well, ordinary. “I’ll do what I can,” she promised, only half-addressing the living Ultra. (She almost said ‘this part is my job,’ echoing the horned ultra's words. So stupidly optimistic.)
The surviving Ultra’s eyes narrowed. “Lady, I don’t know how you had the Noa-damned Ultimate Blade, and believe me, later I’ll care how. But Ken is the last decent man left on the planet, and he just won us the damn war. He needs to make it.”
Marie wished she could guarantee anything. Instinctively she opened a telepathic channel to the Silver Cross, praying Ami was in range, let alone could come in time to help. If nothing else, she could talk through what she saw. ^Ami, medteam on my position ASAP. No hostiles present. Patient has deep laceration on left side, through the internal oblique and into the spleen, losing blood rapidly.^
No response. It looked like she was on her own. Examining the wound itself, Marie could tell that if the Ultra hadn't been very skilled, or very lucky (she suspected both), Empera’s sword could have very well done what the Ultimate Blade had to Empera.
She automatically applied pressure to the man's side, staunching the flow of sparks and blood as she checked for other injuries and relayed them over the otherwise silent telepathic transmission, more to keep track than for any hope of reaching her sister. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, exertion-strain around his timer. She found a hairline fracture in one horn—if she had to guess, from channeling that much sheer power from the Blade, more than any one body should have been able to hold. She risked tilting his head to check the length of the fracture, and winced; ultra-horns could be...dangerous, to repair. Sensory horns were specialized enough by their nature that incorrectly healing one could handicap their owner. In most cases she’d start with the horn simply to make sure he didn’t lose the use of it, or prevent the trauma the feedback loop of a damaged horn could cause. But at that moment, it was more important to make sure he lived at all.
The body began to glow—a telltale warning that his physical form was losing integrity. The man was already dead; only a miracle could save him now.
Marie, however, still had a few miracles left in her.
She extended her hands, gathering her light energy into her palms and core to pulse through the air and enfold the body in front of her. Slowly—carefully—she reached through the Ultra’s fading light signature and into his core essence, finding the laceration and knitting it back together. Her fingertips conducted the flow of light, pressing it into his system, fighting to pour in more energy than he was losing. I won’t let you die. Not now. Live to see the world you've saved.
She had to move faster than she’d have liked—if she’d had more medics with her, perhaps she could have done a tidier job, but—
The edges of the gash sparked with energy, and Marie barely managed to check the surge. That...wasn’t her doing. That light pulsed from the lifeless body (what had his friend called him again?), as if he was trying to help her. How did he still have the power to do that? He was dead… “Save your strength,” she said aloud; “you must rest if you are to survive this. I can heal your wounds; your desire to live is all I need from you right now.” She hadn’t expected a response, nor did she truly get one—the surge of life-force ebbed, and grew steady enough for her to continue, but the man lay unchanging and still.
Marie had been a medic for a long time—longer than some of her younger nurses had been alive—but never had she met someone this blasted stubborn, this intent on fighting when he couldn’t win.
The living man didn’t even stir at her words; from what little peripheral attention she could spare him, his attention was as fixed on her patient as Marie was. This deep into flow-state, she didn’t notice the buzzing fog in her head warning her that she’d overextended herself. She couldn't tell for certain how or when she’d ended up on one knee, only that she hadn’t finished her work yet. She tried to rise, stumbled, and decided she could still work propped against him. She focused on re-knitting the internal damage—the ribs, the cracked horn that took just a little more finesse, the forearms scorched and blistered from overtaxing his Spacium glands, the bruises of more shapes and sizes than she liked to think about…
~~~
Marie felt someone trying to shake her awake, which probably meant she’d passed out at some point.
The first thing she noticed was the quiet. Empera’s forces hadn’t pushed the offensive, or sought vengeance for their leader…yet.
Second, and almost as surreally, Empera was still dead. Marie was there, and Empera wasn’t, and the world still existed. That alone would take some getting used to.
And thirdly, Marie didn’t know if she’d actually finished saving that man. A flash of panic found new reserves of adrenaline, and she pushed back against the dark numb of unconsciousness, trying to force her way back to her body to finish her work. She thought she caught a voice, coming closer, chastising someone for…something. She couldn’t hear what—thoughts too muddled, her head pounding too hard to focus.
Marie felt her eyes start to glow again, and a trickle of warmth as something fed healing, rejuvenating light into her system. Someone’s color timer fluttered dangerously fast in her ears, and it took her too long to realize it was her own. She opened her eyes to a blur, and her stomach gave a halfhearted heave, but she lacked the strength or inclination to really dedicate to being sick.
“Always knew you’d work yourself to death, Marie,” a familiar voice made it through the haze.
“Ami?” As her vision started to focus, Marie registered her sister’s face, pale with concern.
“You nearly rung yourself dry,” Ami hissed, with the kind of anger Marie hadn’t heard since…okay, since the last time Marie had overworked herself and passed out, so not as long as was probably ideal.
Marie winced at the static tingle in her hands and feet; the light was starting to return to her limbs, and she realized her sister and a nurse she didn’t immediately recognize were both donating some of their light. She wanted to convey some semblance of gratitude, or ask if Ami had heard her after all, but the first words out of her mouth were: “Is he...did he make it?”
A soft groan next to her answered, deep and drowsy and very, very tired. Marie glanced around her, trying to move without making her nausea worse, but she could only see Ami, the taller Ultra, and… “Is it done,” the horned figure managed, shifting as he tried to force himself upright. His color timer fluttered red, but its glow looked bright and stable; nothing that rest (or a less exhausted medic) wouldn’t be able to remedy. "Empera…"
Marie struggled to a seated position, and for some semblance of dignity. She wavered, but Ami caught one arm and gingerly propped her up, still glaring disapproval. When she was more sure of her balance, Marie managed a shallow bow to the Ultra. “I’m glad you’re alright.” The words felt inane; this man had just killed Empera.
Slowly the horned ultra sat up, waving away the nurse who tried to steady him. He felt gingerly at his no-longer-cracked horn, as if surprised it was still attached. Slowly, his gaze searched the horizon, then found his friend, who dropped into a crouch beside him. “Empera…he’s gone?”
“Stone dead,” the taller figure confirmed, clasping his shoulder. His hands shook, and before Marie could process, he’d punched his half-dead friend in the shoulder and given vent to a shaky laugh: “Noa’s teeth, Ken, you did it. It’s over.”
“Not…not over yet,” he (’Ken’) managed, a weak laugh escaping him as he clasped his friend’s arm with the hand not holding the Ultimate Blade (Marie wondered if he’d forgotten he was holding it). “We need to rebuild. And we need to make sure this kind of thing can’t happen ever again. First Juda, now this…”
“I think that can wait for now,” Ami interjected. “You lot need rest, and the planet won’t be any worse off for taking a moment to get our bearings.” Marie studied her, and noticed her gaze hadn’t left Ken’s vice-like grip on the sword. “You're the one who used it,” she added, half-question.
“Oh! Right.” Ken released his friend, seeming to notice the Blade, and shifted it to both hands, offering it back to Marie. “Thank you.” When Marie only glanced to her sister (who studied the horned ultra with a bemusement very similar to Marie's), Ken seemed to pick up on the deference and added; "Or…forgive me, is this yours?"
Marie exchanged a Look with her sister. To give up something that powerful so easily… “It’s yours now,” Ami said simply. “You’ve channeled the Ultimate Blade and saved the life of our planet; it you could use it for that, it belongs in your hands.”
This time Marie lingered on Ken’s face as he processed the words. She’d known the Ultimate Blade had been forged for a hero; much like the Plasma Spark her ancestors had forged the Blade within, precious few could wield its power safely—let alone the way he had today. Ken studied the sword, surprise and awe mingling in his gaze, and she caught the moment his expression firmed into resolve. “You honor me. I will work to use it well.” His gaze moved to Marie, then dropped as he dipped his head in the closest to a bow he could manage. “Our planet has a future, thanks to you. The most important thing now is to ensure no more lives are lost. Alien Empera’s gone, but his generals—and any other would-be conquerors out there in the universe—will fight to fill the power vacuum. This isn't over yet, and we need to be...to be ready...” He pushed upwards to stand, and almost fell over.
Marie’s body moved before she thought to ask it; before the man could faceplant into the powdered crystal that coated the ground, she gingerly pushed him back to sit back again. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere," she warned. "You’ll be alright once you’ve had some rest, and passing out half-dead is no substitute for real sleep.” Not that she knew this from experience or anything.
Ken's friend snorted a laugh, though she still heard the desperate relief threaded through the breath. "Don’t baby the man. You think he got good enough to kill Empera by sitting around doing nothing?"
For his part, Ken dropped his gaze at the touch, and Marie realized that, with how things had gone, she probably looked half-dead herself. “Miss, you...that is, I, I need to…” he gesticulated with one hand in something that probably indicated a goal, but really could have meant anything. Eventually, he managed, “There are people out there who need me, miss. My team.” His light signature was irratic—he was pushing himself too soon. “Belial and I, there were more, we were separated when we went planetside—“
“Those people need you in one piece,” Marie said firmly. "Lie back down. I'd rather not sedate you but I will if you make me."
The poor man went very still, and Ami cleared her throat to conceal a laugh; while Marie was working on developing a sedation beam, the best she currently had was simply shooting the unruly patient in the face with a beam and knocking them unconscious. At least the mental image distracted her from her own lingering dizziness. “I’ll put out a call through the Silver Cross network," she continued; "get me their names and—”
“Get me their names,” Ami corrected; “You, meanwhile, are going back to Cross HQ and getting some actual sleep. You’re as dead on your feet than these two. You,” she added, looking to the taller ultra warrior. “You’re injured. We’ll take care of —“
But he was already shaking his head. “No chance. This is nothing, save your energy for the people who actually need it. If Ken’s stable, I need to find our men. He’s right: we weren’t ready for that attack. We need to change that.”
Marie allowed his conversation to blur into background noise as she studied Ken, sitting gingerly across from her in the crystal dust. “You should rest, get your strength back,” she offered. “When you wake up, go to the Plasma Spark tower and replenish your energy reserves.” She glanced down at his side, and winced; she’d pushed herself hard the past several hours, but it meant she hadn’t had the energy to fully heal his wound. He’d wear that scar the rest of his life. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to restore that completely.”
The look she got in response was one of complete bewilderment, intermixed with gratitude and some of whatever that first expression had been. “Why are you sorry? You saved the Land of Light. Without the Ultimate Blade, Empera would have killed all of us.”
Completely ignoring himself. Marie exhaled in the closest she could manage to a laugh. “I suppose you’re right. It’s so long since we’ve had a true, unqualified victory—I’m not quite sure what to do with it yet.”
Ken smiled—no, beamed, with an almost childlike openness that took Marie aback. “You can live," he said simply. "We can move forward, towards a future where we can prevent this kind of loss, for ourselves and others. I don’t know quite what that future looks like yet…but I’m excited to help realize it.” He paused, seeming to consider something for the first time. His eyes flicked to the medals she wore, perhaps recognizing the position they signified as the highest honors available for a military medic. “Miss…I’ve been thinking since Juda, but we need an organized defense force at an inter-galactic scale to keep this from happening to others. Belial and I are proposing the idea to congress, as soon as I can. It would benefit all of us to have a sister organization that specializes in combat medical treatment.., if you would join our efforts for peace.”
“By the Light, let her rest a moment before throwing something like that at her,” Ami interjected. She turned to her sister, adding more quietly, “I know you’d love the chance to do more hero-work, but at least try and not kill yourselves doing it?”
Marie smiled at her sister. “I’ll be careful. But he’s right; we’ve needed to do more for a long time now. If this is how we actually enact change… why would we refuse?” She turned back to the Ultra Warrior, hands clasped formally in front of her. “I'd be honored to work towards that goal.”
“Given the state I was in,” he commented, one hand feeling again at the horn that had been cracked, now barely more than a scratch. “...any force in the galaxy would be beyond thrilled to have the Silver Cross on their side.” He started to stand up again but this time Marie was able to stop him with a look. Despite begrudgingly settling back again, he continued speaking. “Empera is gone, but his generals will continue to fight. We won’t be at peace until we have cleansed the galaxy of their entire army. I wish I could say the fighting is over...but this might be the beginning of a new war.”