The Foundry | Part Four | Chapter Forty-Three
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Four | Unmasked; Unbound; Unleashed
Chapter Forty-Three
All everyone kept telling Echo was that there’d been no reason to do it. Especially now that she wasn’t letting others believe she’d be having Alan run it with her.
She known better than to let herself down. Something in Echo had always been aware that by pursuing such greatness without another in assistance, she’d be able to learn all she was made of. To have the opportunity of failure without someone to blame was a gift to the woman, and it was the means she’d chosen to pursue her craft. So often let down by others and made to feel as if the way she sought to exist was wrong by the projection of their incompetent jealousies onto her. There seemed no choice but to do things her own way.
Scarlet was all fury and fire while rounding that final corner of the first planet on Leg One — there’d be no worries for Echo Béleaph as she disabled Fox’s means to help entirely — that would make it a good warm up.
People had been watching in the simulation hall, and a few others were likely notified by Chloe, with those clearest signs of excitement followed so closely by typing away on her terminal. No matter who decided to watch, or come at behest of Chloe’s excitement, when they’d find how long Echo would be going, or that way she’d stretch out every moment to harvest as much pleasure from it as possible, she doubted they’d stick around.
Echo hadn’t told anyone she was planning to do it, not even Leopold.
He saw the gleam though, that far off stare, and he’d not try to dissuade her from the state of focus she’d brought to the matter. She hoped others were seeing this, or would on the recording she’d had him broadcasting, and they’d know her doing it without assistance from anything outside of herself. Fox had just been taking pictures.
Long ago she’d deferred to such an intelligence in a most crucial opportunity. One where she had the chance to showcase her excellence in a profound way — but she’d not believed in herself, at exactly the thing she should have, which would’ve shown something important to another that was left forever unseen — Echo found that she’d always think of that time; she would never let herself live it down.
Echo felt unseen in who she was and all she’d be capable of throughout her entire lifetime, and there was such time spent pleading for others to support her in that journey, or see her for who she was. She’d long held friendships where she’d chase after people she witnessed as most capable, and hoped to find teammates in, longing for another to take on the challenge of pursuing excellence alongside. Yet, those people would always find her stranger than they’d like a true friend to be.
Uncomfortable; was how she’d make people feel. The way her intelligence and insights were so sharp, and how it couldn’t help but be understood by all that she saw right through them. It often had people unable to do anything but try and convince her of the opposite. They’d eventually made her believe it, and that was why she’d once lost faith in herself.
That all changed after she’d first come to The Foundry, seeing the very kind of greatness she was meant to be part of, and feeling ahead to all she might be capable of here in time.
“Do it, to it,” was all the effort required of Echo for Leg Two; itself a simulacrum of Dog Pound, and neither had yet been updated — nor would they provide any challenge for her once Leopold finally had.
Fox would be most needed for these trials to come, battles all; trials for triumph against evil of forms beyond that which might be overcome by a human being alone. The deck was stacked against Echo on Leg Three. Pushing her to limits against the design of Scarlet itself, and what she considered the single greatest threat to her entire run.
That Leg which brought her down before, the beautiful and horrifying number nine, would be no match for The Void when Echo found herself back in its presence.
Yet, Echo’s lack of flexibility with her choices of weaponry would prove most daunting in face of this wide-birthed, simulated battleship which she’d need to take down on her own. It was an ugly ship. Not on the outside, but most apparent by everything which came from its vacuous inner chambers. They would seem to have her number in many regards, but she’d not fear their challenge.
It was thoughtless. There were mechanisms within which would work against itself most thoroughly in the fight to come. The Horath’s programing taught it to believe in its own capabilities quite completely, despite any and all shortcomings.
She’d completely devastated that ship, tearing up its innards on her first run through The Gauntlet. It had not a single hope against the way Scarlet once chose to wield her weapons. The Horath was incapable of standing any ground against a craft which had been built to wreck such fury upon the interiors of a battleship.
That’s what she’d made Scarlet for the first time around.
Echo had been practicing, great strokes of preparation, and while Horath would not experience the destructive methods she once employed upon them ever again, there was no reason she’d not obliterate that ship outright by her newest found means of destruction.
The Void would not be effective on a battleship such as this. It had not the pull or blast to decimate those crucial systems within, those very same required to bring down an ‘ultimate chonkster’ like Horath, and accomplishing the very key to success in moving onto that next leg.
While it would wreak havoc, and bring that battleship most completely to its knees, there’d be no pleasure in it for Echo, and they’d no doubt release their fleet of goonships while she’d be hoping to recharge her following shot.
It wasn’t a good equation in Echo’s mind. She’d resolved to draw their support out first, employing those tactics learned in her second run on Apocalypse which would have her reacting, instead of attacking.
She’d only three tools of attack she might utilize in warship form, outside of The Void, and they’d been decided upon carefully. Still, the use of them for a dogfight the size she’d be engaging with was hopeless.
Echo felt the surging need of intuition — calling forth one of those most courageous actions of heart, which her first thoughts would always attempt to protest — swinging in tightly past Horath’s under hull and triggering the beginnings of their response. Engaging everything in the aftermath, Echo sought to make as much distance as she might in this blankest space beneath the watchful glare of a dried out mammoth; some pock-mocked moon which reminded her of Earth’s own.
The battleship had appeared dwarfed by the moon’s size in Scarlet’s sensors by the time it released its forty-some goonships.
There was only one choice to make, but it would leave Echo without adequate means of defense to deal with leftovers, and the crowd was splitting into a quartet of streams, a near dozen each — appearing to Echo as up, down, left and right — clearly aiming to flank and surround Scarlet through barest means of intent.
She’d an idea then which wasn’t the tactic she’d planned, yet still resonated in her heart as the one choice to make. Echo would take that leap, and engage herself at fullest speed towards Horath itself, cutting right down the heart of this fleet which hoped to encompass her.
They’d begun firing bursts and beams of lasers and artillery fire — those ships so programed to take her down at Horath’s behest — tracing lines of fury through starless space, and all were either dodged or shattered to pieces by fired splays of the deftly chosen autocannon system now mounted on Scarlet’s topside.
“Mhm.” — “That’s it.” — “Yup.”
Fox said it only that very moment he’d taken it upon himself to engage afterburners, expending fuel for much needed distance from Echo’s surrounding enemy, utilizing his newly completed programing for the task. Finally, accessing the entire means of his excellence, through expression of his most brilliant form, brought into fullest being at last.
The sound of those words resonated deeply within Echo as she bore upon her target. Nothing would take her from the prize of this victory. She’d not let a ‘fat ass bitch’ like this get in the way of her future, that one she always saw so clearly while within The Foundry’s walls.
Another sound, a hum, some theme of her spirit was playing like music to Echo’s ears. It was carrying her forward in grace and empowering the way she flew Scarlet to transcend all her previous exhibitions of excellence. There was a thought within the woman — regarding that sweetest song of her soul. If it had been created by someone, she would take them straight to bed if she’d ever had the chance. No matter what that angel might look like on the outside, and regardless of they were gorgeous anyway, whoever could’ve crafted such designs would be nothing but a purest beast at heart.
It led her to fire one of her other two choice weapons; a hope and prayer they might someway find effectiveness together against this great machine of purely simulated warpower.
There was a flash in Scarlet’s rear scope as Big Daddy shot straight out and up. Watching its gentle arching curl, choosing to ignore any similarities she might find within it to her own body’s form, Echo saw those goonships behind it.
They’d reformed, in one collective force, chasing after her in a convoy seemingly designed for her favorite tool.
Having not been able to take the sight of Rory’s grace in the matter, Echo made a greatest point to reconfigure the transformation process of Scarlet, and practice what now felt needed at this moment specifically.
Cutting throttle — Echo fired reverse thrusters for two entire seconds, folding the nosecone in and under while her rightmost-wingtip began flipping back onto itself. She’d roll left, and curl under, using left side thrusters and that completely extended wing to carve her route underneath, and reverse it all in swiftest order the moment she pounded her drive core to full.
She’d gotten it a couple nanoseconds faster than Rory’s.
“Did it.” — “To ‘Em.”
Fox confirmed the sub vocal request of Echo, letting lose The Void’s crackling ball-lightning form of delivery, bearing directly at the incoming fleet of soon to be immortalized goonships, and she’d not wait a fraction of a second upon that realization to re-figure herself once more.
There not be a more satisfying feeling to Echo, which she might be greeted by, than each confirmation she’d shaved more off her time — enhancing the ability to fold into herself, through a quickest and most surprising change of direction, to speed away from those hounds who’d seek to consume her; blasting away from that ‘tasty treat’ she’d always leave behind for them to chew on.
This one before her wouldn’t deserve that chance.
It had been just under five and half seconds since she’d launched Big Daddy, and the fumes left from its burn were all she could see at this distance. There wasn’t a breath lost before its drive core was burning Scarlet straight towards the heart of Horath, taking that final weapon from within its casing, unfolding from the right-side of the nosecone’s hull, and training its laser directly towards the battleship.
She was out of range of their weapons; such a woefully ineffective vessel of war, now without its goon fleet, and Scarlet was making ground on Big Daddy — witnessed so far up and out through her top-facing scope — she’d have plenty of time.
Shields were up, which was a focus of Scarlet’s energy reserves, and the primary means by which she’d hope to counteract her ultimate weapon-choice’s deficiencies. Horath’s hard mounted defense turrets were blasting away, and Echo watched the dings on her shield’s monitor — Horath had no hope. It would be entirely ineffective with those weapons.
Echo only needed to carve a whole for Big Daddy to get in there.
“Hey Leopold?” She’d called out, the sound of her voice so abrupt in that smallest space of the hard-shell, so pleased to hear his response back immediately, “What’s up?”
“Is Rory watching?”
Without a hesitation he’d told her the truth, “Yeah, she’s the only one left but me in here.”
Echo had known that in her heart, yet she’d been ignoring it with her mind to keep the pressure off until now. Something called her back to that moment in their first rumble, visages of blood strewn about the ring, how she’d let off for them to get their punches in. It didn’t seem to make much sense to Echo, but that’s where her thoughts had taken her regardless.
Perhaps, because she was just about to do quite the opposite. She wasn’t just attacking this ‘fat Hoe-rath’. This one would be aimed right at Rory’s heart, just like those last two legs, and how she’d gone off in the council chamber.
She knew what Rory wanted most, because they both wanted the same thing more than anything else. They wanted to be seen at last for the innately powerful human beings they were, and the rich bounty they’d to offer their peers. These two saw things others didn’t, and Echo had been trying to get Rory to understand what it was she’d seen in them for so long now — it was all she’d thought about — it was the whole reason she’d come back to The Foundry in the first place, and she was doing that for herself.
There wouldn’t be a thought of worry as she’d carved slice after slice out of that ‘tub of shit’ who’s programing might have their intelligence guessing it could outclass a craft of such design. Taking whole chunks out of its uppermost hull. Creating a home for Big Daddy to drop its payload at last. Wrought violence inside by is bountiful and glorious methods of destruction would be echoed in the woman herself.
Yet, with the focus she’d borne in embedding the truest version of her spirit throughout this new version of Scarlet, and her greatest passions and joys into Fox, Echo had done the very same within her body and mind. She was whole, and this was what she’d been born to do.
Knowing Rory was watching was all she’d need. They could choose to do whatever they wanted to with the feelings it would surely birth inside them. Echo wouldn’t care either way, because she’d found her place, and without any other.
She’d done it through the inspiration borne of, and in honor of that woman herself; the one who changed the way she saw this universe and her own possibilities within it, immolating those ways she’d let herself down on account of others by sight of the way Rory would not.
The gift had been repaid at last. That one who’d shown her how excellence could exist which matched her own, and inspired her to be better, would now have the seeds to experience that themselves. One day, it would be understood as a blessing in a galaxy full of people who’d proven so incapable of the task.
Echo wouldn’t stop here either. There’d be nine more legs to go.
As she’d watched that greatest explosion behind her, knowning her work done, and having fled far before Big Daddy’s megadeath reached Horath’s hollow heart, Echo knew the rest would be a cake walk from here. The Void would have no problem dismantling the defense of any and all enemies, allowing her passage through that twelfth and final leg by strangest means she’d only prayed at this moment might work.
She’d be happy to guide others on those legs in the future — something told her Cardinal would be needing a practice partner — and Echo would do it all again herself, many times over, just to ‘stay sharp’.
There would always be the one, however, who’d made it possible; that woman who’d known herself better than anyone. Except, perhaps now Echo — who had become so absorbed in her need to be seen by Rory, she now surpassed them at that very thing she’d admired more than anything. Both ways that might be interpreted.
Authenticity had become the mode of existence for Echo, and she found within it a strange realization. Perhaps, not that odd considering all the other ways she’d seen herself in Rory. She simply couldn’t imagine why there would ever be a need for her to find a chosen. Not with a friend like Rory who held her heart, and cute girls like Iris to enjoy the rest.
Echo Béleaph would be just fine, and exactly how she was right now.
