Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #44 – Staunch Defender

The lights of the late morning shone on the lush forest, on the trees surrounding the Grove. The anomaly was still far away, the ashen fields just a boogeyman story. Yet, Dandelion couldn’t stay still. She kept gazing through her binoculars, staring at the horizon, moving from east to west and back. Her turn to keep watch, her turn to keep their temporary house safe. Because the swarm wasn’t the only threat. There were subtler, more violent ones that might have struck sooner than that. If Oleander’s estimations were correct, they still had approximately fifty hours before contact. In those fifty hours, the chances of an angry mob of refugees or foreign military units zeroing on their position were higher than those of being eaten by nanos. Dandelion rubbed her scar, a souvenir of her first human commander. That knife wound harmed her psyche more than her body, stood there as a reminder of why she didn’t trust humans and fully supported Lily’s endeavor. None of them could blame her for the results of her failed putsch. In her place, they would have all done what she did, opening the vault and all.

“Anything the matter?”

“No, all’s clear.”

A yawn. The voice which asked the question was still sleepy, its owner keeping her eyes open by some sort of miracle. Another rhizome, with a long brown braid of slick hair, almost down to her hips. Her irises were of a sober brown too, matching the curtain. A web of roots and tendrils surrounded her neck, extending on both of her cheeks with two additional prongs. Her left forearm was enveloped by wooden coils too. Her hands, though, looked human. That plant was Calendula, a Shield-type rhizome. One of those that escaped from the flight deck together with Lily. Now, on watch duty with Dandelion.

Another yawn. Calendula covered her mouth with her hand, stretched a little.

“We’re so screwed, ain’t we?”

Dandelion put down the binoculars, locked eyes with her.

“We can still drive souther. The vans are ready to go at any time.”

“Yay, running away again! How useful! Surely it will solve, like, everything!”

“In the short term, at least.”

“Whatever.”

Calendula gazed at the horizon, towards the rising sun. Far in that direction, war had broken in the Eastern Fringe, with dozens of Eastcol and Pangean mechs running wild. A full on invasion, one that was quickly putting what was left of New Netherlands on its knees. It was just a question of time, before they broke through the weak defense lines and reached the Grove too. That’s why they were up there, looking for potential intruders. Calendula glanced at Dandelion, at that young, frail Spear-type that had quickly become one of Captain Commander Lily’s favorites. Her hands were trembling. Her heart was probably beating fast too. Those ice-blue eyes of hers seemed broken to the point of leaking water any time now. Yet, she was enduring it, soldiering through her duties without bending under pressure. For someone as useless as a Spear-type, it was quite an accomplishment.

“Say, did you manage to sleep a little, Lion?”

“I hate that nick, Lendula.”

“Ugh, that sounds rough. Point taken, Dandy!”

“That sounds even worse, Cal.”

“But come on, Dandelion is so long!”

“Because Calendula isn’t?”

“It’s different!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Fine, okay. Dan-de-lion. We’re good, now?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“So…”, Calendula yawned again, “…did you get some shuteye?”

Dandelion turned away from her, hid her eyes behind her binoculars again.

“My room was too close to Captain Commander Lily’s. And hers wasn’t soundproof. Like, at all.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Meoooow?”

Dandelion puffed her cheeks, burst into a sudden explosion of laughter. Calendula couldn’t help but follow through, laughing her lungs off. Her hand went to her forehead, as she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop wheezing. Dandelion bent forward, brought one hand to her belly, trying to quench her hilarity, to catch her breath. Only to start laughing again, for a minute straight. Her eyes had leaked water. Calendula’s too. It was such an anomaly, and, yet, it didn’t feel bad at all. They fought against the urge of smirking, of chuckling together one more time. Dandelion took control of herself slowly, surely, finally let that sudden bout of jolly mood rest.

“Don’t… do it ever again. I don’t want to hear a cat meowing for the rest of my life.”

Calendula wiped away her leaked water, tried to wear a serious expression again. She was still grinning, failing at turning back into soldier mode. Still keeping the conversation going.

“And it wasn’t even a real cat!”

Dandelion groaned. No, it wasn’t, not at all. It was a plant pretending to be one to turn on another plant. She couldn’t let go of how awkward that sounded. It was something that scarred her deep into her soul, if rhizomes had one. She heaved a long sigh, now keeping herself under the strictest level of control, before looking for a suitable response.

“Right? Lagash take me, I’ve never wished I were deaf as much as yesterday.”

“I hope we don’t get an encore tonight.”

“It depends on how dry they are.”

“Very dry. Desert level of dry. No way they still have lymph to waste.”

“Bet.”

“Though, have you considered that…”

“What?”

“Meoooooow?”

Dandelion fought against the urge to laugh again, contracted her muscles, puffed her cheeks, kept her breath in. But it was all for naught. She couldn’t help it. She just. Burst into an incontrollable bout of hilarity. Leaking as much water, if not more, from her eyes. And, of course, Calendula was in the same sorry state, slamming her foot on the concrete roof on repeat, bent in half while not being able to stop. One minute. Two minutes. The effects of that last joke slowly died out, finally letting the two rhizomes seize control of their emotions, return to their vital task. Dandelion, though, felt a little fuzzy warmth in her heart. Even in the face of annihilation, there was still something to cheer for, to cherish. Even just a stupid joke about a too passionate night of lovemaking that made all of them wish they were stranded on Neon instead. Even a simple chat among sisters. Even that was enough to make her feel like there was still something worth saving, worth fighting for. She looked into the binoculars one more time, gazed at the horizon.

It was then that she noticed them.

Three dots, still quite far.

One blue, two black, moving together at a significant speed. Coming from the Eastern Fringe. She tapped the zoom controls on the visor, the lenses extended out of their casings to magnify the picture.

There was no doubt.

Eastcol Seraphs.

In combat formation.

Heading towards them.

Dandelion pulled down the binoculars, gritted her teeth.

“…we’ve got company. Contact in time plus thirty. Moving fast.”

Calendula grabbed her arm, locked eyes with her.

“Let’s head down, if they don’t see anyone on the roof, they’ll conclude it’s an empty, derelict base and move on.”

“Too late. If I saw them, there’s no way they didn’t spot us!”

Calendula cursed under her breath, glanced back at those spots in the sky, getting bigger and closer any second more. A Shield-type and a Spear-type against flying units? That wasn’t going to be smooth. She mentally ran through the inventory of weapons they stashed inside the Grove, through the list of rhizomes and their specialties. Mantis. Whip. Sword. Spear. Mist. Shield. Yet, no real ranged options. That was the worst scenario, one that rhizomes weren’t equipped to deal with. No matter how many of them got on that roof, there was no way they’d be able to fight off a Seraph patrol. That left them with only one option. She quickly went for the communicator tucked inside her ear, tapped it.

“Calendula here! Flying Eastcol units closing in on the Grove. Seek refuge in the underground bunker, Dandelion and I will act as bait! I repeat, head for the bunker, don’t stay around the main compound or…”

Or.

She didn’t finish her sentence, before seeing what that ‘or’ actually meant. Which is what her eyes learned one instant later. Right as a rocket homed on them, shot by the blue Seraph.

Calendula pushed her hand on the concrete, let the vines, the tendrils build a mesh, a wooden wall that grew by one, two, three meters in mere instants, a wall still wet with lymph, growing, curling to protect both her and Dandelion.

Just in time to intercept the rocket.

A tremendous explosion shook the Grove till its foundations, an artificial earthquake spreading like waves in a lake, after a stone pierced its calm waters. Except that the stone was a high-penetration ballistic unit, a Raphael AX-7. A cloud of smoke rose from the roof of the old building, surrounding it almost completely. Only for a wooden cage to emerge from it. Burned. Charred. Broken. Cracked. Yet, still standing. As the rhizome who seeded it.

Calendula was breathing heavily, her entire arm was shaking, dripping lymph. The Raphael almost broke through. Almost. The mesh of roots, of vines, absorbed the explosion, the kinetic power of the rocket, dissipated it around the network. But it wasn’t enough. It dealt massive damage. Her forearm was hurting, her bones were shattered, she could feel pain all through it. She spat on the ground, growled. A shield that couldn’t shield. What a magnificent failure of a rhizome she was. As the smoke dissipated, she finally managed to see.

Three flying armors. With legs and arms. Two large jet-fighter-like wings. A reinforced core. No visible head. Seraphs. The mass-produced near-ground elite flying unit of the Eastcol, each driven by a human pilot. Despite advancements in artificial brains, the Eastcol scientists decided to keep entrusting their weapons to humans. Humans were, in fact, cheaper to produce and less prone to unexplainable mistakes, but also less predictable. Still, that meant that behind each of those faceless floating armors there was a pilot, staring down at them through their artificial eyes. The three Serpahs hovered around twenty meters above the ground, towering above the compound, on the wounded rhizome. The one in the center was shining with blue decors, sporting a massive rocket launcher on its right arm. The other two were equipped with light, anti-personnel weaponry and looked like a less advanced, more generic model. Calendula watched them wait for their vision to get clearer, without a hurry. They knew they had the advantage of altitude. Her left arm sent a spike of pain through her nerves. That rocket damaged her way more than she expected. What was left of her barrier was still thick enough to deny damage from any standard low power weapon, but would have crumbled like glass if hit again by a missile. Now, the pilot of the blue unit was loading another Raphael into their gun, keeping their weapon trained on the building. Calendula gritted her teeth, tried to recall all of her remaining lymph back into her left arm, to repair the barrier, grow it again. Only to find herself dry. All her reserves. Gone. She gasped. The only way to push out more would have been going into overproduction, risking phytomorphosis. That thought made her shiver, almost made her leak water from her eyes. Phytomorphosis. Losing herself to her plant side, like Oleander did, turning into a creepy hybrid. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to become a monster, otherwise… otherwise…

She shook her head. If that had to be her fate, she would have rather died. Turning into a nightmare creature wasn’t worth prolonging her own life. But something touched her. A hand. On her shoulder. From the clouds of dust, someone came out. A rhizome with ash blond hair, blue eyes, a scar on her cheek. And a hand going to her neck, right as her roots started to form a spiral, to converge into what looked like a handle.

From the inside of his armor, Captain Slaugh Hasegawa was grinning. Rhizomes. Two of them. Defending a New Netherlands military outpost.

“How intriguing…”

Killing rhizomes was very satisfying, especially after the Turn. Before that massive debacle of power play, he had to treat them almost like people, to avoid public retaliation. Now, though, everyone saw which kind of monsters they were. The one good aspect that came out of the failed coup was that he was allowed to kill them without any repercussions. They weren’t humans. They were things posing as humans, no matter what that fat bastard Grigorji Shao said, before turning into food for nanos. Shao was gone, and that was fine. A man who considered the idea of giving human rights to rhizomes was better dead. So, Slaugh tasted the despair of that plant freak, a plant freak that was still able to fend off the impact of one of his missiles. Seeing that trash withstand such an attack made his anger build up.

“Sir, can we shoot them? They are on their last leg, even with our needle guns, we should…”

Slaugh rolled his eyes. Of course Ensign Rupta would ask that. Of course. Always the pragmatic dog.

“No, you don’t. I want to annihilate them for good. I want them to have a taste of their own medicine. Just keep flying around without shooting. You are my support units, understood?”

“Y… yes, sir!”

“Good.”

He finished loading his rocket launcher, aimed it back at the plant woman. Till he noticed something. The second plant. Was standing still. Looking at him. Extracting something from her back, in a slow, continuous motion. He jerked in disgust, at the sight of that green fluid dripping from whatever she was pulling out of her body. Yet another sign that those creatures didn’t deserve to exist. Still, staring at her made him lose one second, one second he could have used to shoot his weapon.

That second allowed the rhizome to bend her arm.

The second after, the right side of his Seraph exploded.

Pierced by a spear thrown at impossible speed.

Ripping off the rocket launcher, the entire arm up to the shoulder, breaking the right wing in half. Leaving the inner layer of his flying armor exposed. Making him tumble to the left, as the thrusters went in compensation mode, trying to keep him from losing his bearing. Red lights. Red icons all over his HUD. Slaugh cursed, shut down the danger signals sent to his brain, tried to stabilize his Seraph.

“Captain Hasegawa!”

The voice of Ensign Rupta reached him – wrong person at the wrong time. He growled in his radio, roared like a lion.

“I’ve been hit, Ensign! Stop quacking and return fire!”

“Sir, Ensign Bantam was…”

Eve Bantam? His right wing defender? Slaugh turned back to his sensors, looked in the direction of where the third Seraph was supposed to be. Only to find absolutely nothing. He ran a full range scan, all sensors on. Till he saw it. The Seraph of Ensign Bantam. Had just crashed on the ground. With what looked like a wooden spear piercing its armor, right into the pilot core. The same spear that breached through his unit. The same spear that inferior plant freak took out of her back.

Slaugh quickly called the status screen on Bantam’s vitals.

Flatline.

No pulse.

No breathing.

Eve Bantam was

dead.

Slaugh gasped.

That spear.

That spear that damaged his Seraph beyond repair.

Killed one of his soldiers.

Without giving her time to react.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists. Rhizomes. Spreading death and misery. As usual. The secret weapon of New Netherlands. The one that clawed back a huge chunk of the Eastern Fringe in the past year. Shock troopers, led by a plant that poured acid mist out of her body, melting their soldiers like wet paper. A crime against humanity disguised as a beautiful woman. That was not only gross, that was immoral. Slaugh’s breath slowed down, his mind clearer. The Walking Cloud wasn’t there. Those two plants were a Shield and a Spear type, apparently. Two rhizomes were the most an isolated New Netherlands military installation ever had, so the rest of the soldiers had to be humans. Killing those two would have given them the edge they needed, even after losing Bantam. He boosted up, compensating for the missing wing, let Rupta follow him. Before opening the barrels at the sides of his core. And raining down high-speed needles on those monsters.

“Behind me!”

Calendula raised what was left of her shield, curling it like a sphere, covering every angle, while pushing Dandelion down with her free hand. The needles hit the wood, pierced it, remained stuck into the mesh of tendrils that made the bulk of the barrier. Calendula felt her torso twisting. Her right shoulder pad exploded, as a needle passed through her cage, carving her flesh. Another needle, right in her body armor, stopped by the thick plates before it could delve into her skin. She groaned. Her shield was full of holes, already breached by the Raphael rocket. It was just a question of time before they got through. Still, Dandelion’s attack had been impressive. A perfect bullseye, killing one enemy and maiming another, with a grace and power she didn’t expect Spear-types to have.

“…sorry, Calendula. I can’t… do that again.”

Dandelion’s voice reached her, under the constant rain of metal. Another needle passed through the barrier, almost hitting her foot. Yet, the Spear rhizome seemed to be able to keep her cool, albeit barely.

“…I’m a one-trick-pony. I need days to generate a spear and all my remaining lymph to throw it at that speed. I’m a design failure, right…?”

Calendula spat on the floor one more time, wore a tired grin.

“I’m a shield that can’t shield. Guess we’re even.”

“Father was a weirdo.”

“He truly was.”

Another needle pierced through the mesh. Dandelion screamed. Her thigh. Her thigh had been hit. Her shoulder too. She pushed her hand in front of her mouth, tried to contain her pain. Useless. They were useless. Both of them. Those flying units were too high up. Their tendrils could only get so far. And Calendula’s shield was getting chipped away every second more, leaving only a husk of what it was. Calendula chuckled, chuckled to fight the pain, the crushing sensation of defeat.

“I hope they got away safely.”

“We’ve been… helpful?”

“Hell, yeah, sister! They’ll hail us as heroes!”

“…why do heroes always have to die?”

“…because heroes are morons.”

“So, we are morons too?”

“…yes. Yes we are.”

Dandelion chuckled too, ignoring her damaged shoulder, her leaking thigh. She hugged Calendula from behind, rubbing her cheek against hers.

“Good. I hope our funeral will be nice.”

“Of course! It will be the best funeral ever!”

Dandelion felt something going down her cheek. Water. She was leaking water from her eyes.

“…it’s not fair.”

“Meoooow?”

Dandelion couldn’t help but chuckle softly, patting Calendula’s hair, stroking her braid.

“Really? Is that going to be your last word, Callie?”

“Everything to piss off the iron bitch and her bratty cat.”

Dandelion hugged her tighter, under that cage of vines. Hoping someone, anyone remembered their names until the end.

In the air, Slaugh got tired of hitting that wall of vines, that sphere that enveloped both of his targets, providing perfect cover from every and any angle. Some needles went through, but most were stopped by that decaying wooden cage, much to his chagrin, turning that blitz into a war of attrition – something he wanted to prevent at all costs. He raised his remaining arm, prompting Rupta to stop shooting too.

“This ain’t going anywhere, Ensign…”

He reached for the back of his Seraph, the metallic hand clamping around a handle. He pulled it out, unsheathed it. A plasma blade, one meter long. He brought it to his chest, clicked on the hilt. The blade burned, shone in the morning, enveloped in glowing light. Guns were the wrong answer. Old-fashioned pruning was a better way to dispose of the trash. He pirouetted in the air, adjusting his balance.

“…I’m gonna give it a clear cut!”

Before pushing his boosters to the max, diving down with his blazing sword, like an angel ready to punish evil, the heavenly wrath made flesh. He danced in a loop, before correcting his bearing, going down at full speed. He unleashed his flaming blade, ready to burn that vine cage that was delaying his revenge, the payment for Bantam’s death, for his country’s woes.

Yet.

The sword.

Never reached the wood.

Stopped by.

A black blade.

Taking him.

Head on.

A precise swipe, deflecting his momentum, throwing him out of his dive, making his thrusters lose their bearing.

Slaugh boosted back, barely managed to keep his Seraph under control. His arm was still shaking. His blade sparking. Yet, his fist was cracked, as if something stopped it. As if something hit him there, avoiding his judgement.

When his vision stabilized, his face went pale.

A red iris.

A white flower.

In front of him, stood a tall rhizome, the tallest ever created.

In front of him, stood the iron bitch herself.

In front of him, stood Captain Commander Lily.

And she was out for blood.

His blood.