Time Throws Fire
by Ophelia Everfall
Part One | Redux Eterna
Part Two | Polymath Blues
Part Three | The Feather
Part Four | Wizard
Chapter Six
Twister unleashed its drive core, flipping whole and headlong at full-speed on its gimbled central rigging, flap-folding each wing to crisscross its hull into bursting spirals powered by revealed power-thrusters beneath their bases. Toshi would speak directly into the pilot’s consciousness within Twister’s hardshell—ducking through its under spun barrel-rolls as the warcraft drifted in seeming reverse upon its original course.
“There might be a thought to slowing down some hair, hon.”
Coral wouldn’t know the words as anything but a rigid mantra of fear borne from code of consciousness unaccustomed to acting with trust of a heart connected to more.
“Cool story, bro.” Jest proclaimed while Coral cut the drive cores as their bulk slammed into their own mirrored rotation, backflipping so the whiteout jets could feather her to slow—then smoothly accelerate into quickening velocities which propelled Twister on reverse-heading with a steadiness keeping it lock-step with simulative successes.
She’d been the first initiate of The Foundry’s newest class to claim a softchair, and Coral would come to write masterpieces through action. Even Lauren lagged behind in this regard as they found themself subsumed by other, stranger tasks which seemed to be calling from afar.
They were searching for Rory with all of their intuition—allowing the journey to bring them towards something beyond vision; universal feeling.
Nothing would forego opportunities gifted Coral. Any who’d deem stand in her way by means of manipulative or projected distrust wielded towards the oft unseen and elevated distinction that her essence demanded had been expunged in whole through example of all she’d be capable of beside support which respected her profound intelligence. It was Echo who’d spotted her from the crowd.
Her design was impeccable—foreboding—hung. There was something tucked in Twister’s undercarriage which would bring a thunder most elongated upon her enemies of war once unleashed.
Emplacements were made by Carver’s effector fields for that first display of physical destruction outside simulation. Hyde had been collecting debris left floating in orbit of Atreya—destroying the most dangerous outright—he was remaker of all things with his grasping, resizing spheres of projected control.
Atreya; former world of Boreál’s people with its trilogy of perfect islands amongst the sprawling wonderland of sea fare was deftly blanketed by fallout still permeating each inch of land; a weight to be carried by all here through time.
Coral’s shot fired through that vicious tube of launching power now bearing upon the designated time and place of destruction was a fate written.
It was Demi Annexa and Onslaught who had the first run before Hyde’s time of rebuilding—their plasmic spear of peaking blue fire split the hull of a long dead freighter left abandoned, in declining orbit, which Leopold’s calculations told would crash-land directly upon Atreya’s largest continent.
While only two of the near million and a half people now left in-system would return to walk the shores of Atreya once healed from its thermo-nuclear plague of scourge, it was everyone here who’d found extended purpose grafted into their hearts, fiercest will to live on succeeding forevermore where they had once failed; protecting this sacred place.
Echo’s movements in Scarlet had become legend—transfigured from form previously taken—evolutions to its launch rigging and the grasping-chamber of her void flare saw its burdens making little to no impact on the grace of her flight-mech’s workings. She’d not need sacrifice a thing in wielding its ultimate weapon, The Void; a legend of interiorizing destruction and exterior expulsion.
There wouldn’t be a challenge she’d not accept while maneuvering through the consequences of her own wicked craftings. Echo would see her mech carry the whole of fury’s weight and more—no end to the quality she’d wring from the wet mop of her own excellence.
Completing a tightest and woman-flown slingshot around Atreya as the burgeoning pilot’s preparatory exercises had been plodding along, glimpsing yonder’s glint in the go-scopes farthest, cosmic facing corner would bring a knowing of heart to this woman so prone for feeling beyond from that place—inevitably leading towards the discoveries of more needed wisdom for herself and friends.
She’d believed it a sign of pending arrival. Some dreadful first of their oncoming enemy armada long prepared for—finally seen on space-time’s horizon—if only laced within the message of cosmic coincidence which came from that witnessing itself.
Sometimes Echo Béleaph was right—evil had returned to Boreál.
‘Yup—Mhm—Like that.’ Fox told his pilot in witness of her self-crafted line of orbit’s successful fruition now propelling her forth in such style, all the while sporting his signature panache.
Fire flung from gravity’s celestial chamber saw Scarlet reaching speeds unbroken through time in the system of Boreál, at that very moment Coral’s destruction would plow through the presented shield of farcical structures propped together by Hyde. It was that very moment when she’d cut it all to stillness—allowing the float to take her into a deepest space of blissful surrender while holding course on her record-breaking thrustless bearing—exceeding that of any, before or since—throughout the entire galaxy of Rhinestone.
Searing space without a hint of flame—Chiron’s enormity dead and ahead gripping Echo’s entire phase of focus—the turbines and nuptials of the gas giant’s enormous father storm, which would live for the rest of time inside its mother planet, had seen her home in a way that made every bit of sense to the breadth of spirit held inside her body.
There was a thought of Echo’s own, projected without control through Fox to its favorite rock of intelligence, Gibraltar, which spoke back to Hyde and had him piping into Echo’s conscious inner-ear.
“You can’t do that, honey.”
She’d appreciate considering these notions but rarely saw to do more than laugh, knowing in her own gut of the way this whirl would wind; trusting those ways she was led.
Eighteen seconds of full reverse thrust brought her to a collapsing speed which would be used in full when allowing her newly hinged rear hull’s top to fold up-over at thrust of its specialty ejection burners. Only that moment before the violent collapsing of her rear would shudder the power of its velocity’s load onto the topside of her front-end would she cut forward thrust entirely and switch to hyper-fueled jet fire streamed from the revealed underside of Scarlet’s nosecone as it tucked and slammed into her undercarriage’s catch slot. The forward rotation would be met with alternative fire on thrusters—above and below the right and left wingtips—moments later reversing their stream of force borne to bear at that perfect percentage—allowing the needed time for halting spin in ideal order, just as the nosecone flipped forward and under-wing cores blasted Scarlet on full thrust back towards Atreya. The ensuing velocity slung the rear end, assisted by its retro-trusters, to land hard in a full-back-facing burn at highest immediacy—throttling the woman away from Chiron.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Echo told him truthfully.
“Don’t you worry Mr. Handsome.”
No matter how reckless she might seem to some with stricter sensibilities—Echo Béleaph had never been foolish in placing trust in that one thing leading her strangest way.
