Clearing out the Citadel

Jentorra was in the middle of what had once been Kang’s Citadel. The blank-faced soldiers were dead, Kang was gone, and for the first time in so long they had a chance to rebuild.

“See anything?” Quaz called, from over a fallen chunk of one of the vast rings that had encircled the fortress.

“Nothing yet! The ants were thorough,” Jentorra shouted back.

That was something else she’d have to adjust to - the race of super-advanced multi-legged insects that now called this realm their home. Still, they’d been effective allies, even if they’d torn the place apart - the ants had more use for Kang’s technology than Jentorra’s people did.

Kang had brought a whole other kind of development down to them. It just wasn’t always totally compatible with the living technology they had already.

Still, it was worth knowing. As the saying went, once absorbed by an amoebisaur, twice shy.

Using her staff as a lever, she prised up a fallen panel, uncovering what seemed to be a remarkably well-preserved passageway. Frowning, carefully, she stepped inside.

The walls were sleek, smooth grey metal, cold and lifeless. There was a vein of glass running down the side, cracked, no longer shining with any light; Jentorra pressed a hand to it, skin crawling at the deathly cold.

No building should be like this. Kang had perverted this whole realm.

She lifted herself up to tiptoes, walking with silent, springy steps, following the vein down the battered hallway. As intact as it was, there were still cracks, still signs of damage.

“You’re on edge,” Quaz said.

She turned; he was a few steps behind her. Jentorra lifted her staff, and a shard of glass in the tip began to shine with an orange light, illuminating the shadowed hallway.

“Last time I was in here, I thought I was going to be executed,” Jentorra said.

“I don’t sense anything,” Quaz said. “We’re alone.”

“I hope so,” Jentorra said.

She took a few more steps, turning a corner to reach a dead end. Something had crashed through the hallway here, a huge chunk of debris severing the tunnel from wherever it was meant to go. A blank-faced body lay broken on the floor; Jentorra looked down at it grimly, then turned up.

There was a doorway to the side. Jentorra jammed her staff into that door, grunting as she pushed it open. On the far side, something shone.

“Careful,” she said. “Might be nothing alive down here, but there’s something.”

She took a cautious step forwards.

It looked like a lab. There were glass panes, battered looking holo-displays, lights without power - and in the middle was some kind of generator, a clear stream of blue light traveling up from the altar to the ceiling.

It hummed. Jentorra frowned.

“What is it?” she said. “What was he working on?”

“We should get the ants in,” Quaz said. “They might… hold on.”

He moved behind her, and froze.

“I can feel something,” Quaz said.

“You’re reading someone’s mind?” Jentorra said.

“Not thoughts exactly,” he said. “But there’s something. Janet, she said some of Kang’s technology could react to his mind. Neurokinetic. That might be what I’m feeling.”

Jentorra warily stepped closer.

It was still active. That didn’t fill her with confidence; anything of Kang’s that still worked was a potential threat.

She reached out with her staff - something emerged from the wall, and a jet of light struck it out of her hand. At once, the sturdy weapon turned to dust. Jentorra leapt back.

Disintegration. Kang had used weapons like that in the battle; she grimaced.

“Whatever it is, he thought it was worth guarding,” Jentorra said. She glanced around the room. “I think that means we need to deal with it.”

She paused.

“No, that’s a terrible idea,” Quaz said.

“Looked like motion sensors. Give me your shawl,” Jentorra said.

“I like this shawl,” Quaz muttered.

“Would you rather I ask for your shirt?” Jentorra said.

“Yes, actually. I can replace that,” Quaz said.

Jentorra sighed impatiently. Expression making his disapproval in her plan clear, Quaz loosened his shawl, and then took off his shirt, handing it to her. Jentorra eyed the room’s interior for a few moments, thinking carefully.

She threw the bundled-up top one way, then as the automated turret fired at it, darted another and dove for cover behind some sort of control panel.

She crouched, hiding from the beam. There were a handful of stations like this, most dead, dotted around the central device. Experimentally, she removed her headdress, poking it tentatively around the side of the panel - she snatched it back almost at once. A blast shot past it, knocking it out from her hands anyway.

“Quaz!” she called. “You’re my eyes. How far am I?”

“It’ll shoot you if you make a break for the beam,” Quaz said.

“I know,” Jentorra said.

“You can get a better angle from two panels along,” Quaz said. “If you’re really doing this.”

“I’ve got to. Can’t have a mystery machine of his running,” Jentorra said.

Two stations. She could just see another panel set up a little way along, without needing to crane her head out of cover. She just had to distract the turret, which meant-

“No,” Quaz said. “I told you, I like my shawl.”

Jentorra grimaced.

“Look away,” she said.

“Jentorra. I’m a telepath,” Quaz said. “Every time you worry about me seeing you naked, I see you naked. Every time you think about your morning shower, I see you naked. Every time someone else imagines you naked - which, seriously, been happening a lot recently - I see you naked. There’s really no point being shy with me.”

Jentorra scowled.

“You’re doing it again,” Quaz said tiredly. He paused. “Huh. That marking’s new.”

“I am not doing this with you here,” Jentorra said. “Fetch a change of clothes, a blanket or something. I’ll want it when I’m done.”

“I can do that,” Quaz said.

Jentorra listened to the sound of footsteps. Well, if she couldn’t throw Quaz’s garments to distract the motion sensor…

She didn’t have much, just the practicalities, but she only needed to make it a little way - she just needed to approach that central altar from the opposite side to the turret. It couldn’t blast her then without doing her job for her.

Deep breath.

She didn’t have her sword, and her staff was gone. Beyond a battered few accessories she didn’t feel able to throw far at all, she had her boots, her crop top, and her shorts-skirt fusion. For once, she cursed her impulse towards practicality - so much was interconnected, tied together and sturdy enough to withstand combat. She couldn’t tear anything with her bare hands - not that she wanted to, and lose the weight it needed to throw.

Well, better to start with boots. Curled up in the shadow of the console, she carefully undid both - better to not have uneven weight. She crouched, poised to run, and threw one one way-

The turret fired before she could react. She shrank back, and grimaced. Stupid. Wasted chance. She couldn’t afford that.

She took a second to steel herself, preparing to run blind - there was no time to look back and make sure the security system was pointed the right way. She threw her second boot back, and darted forward the same instant, only knowing she was safe when she slid in behind the next panel.

She’d glanced sideways when she’d dashed - Quaz had been right, she was starting to round the room. A little more to the side, and she’d be safe from the turret, protected by whatever that eerie device was doing.

She just had to get that far. Jentorra shifted, unused both to the feel of the cold metal, and the feel of it against her bare feet.

(Underwear as an invention had yet to make it all the way to her realm yet. All she had left were her two articles of clothing, paired with beads and adornments that wouldn’t be sufficient distraction).

Still, better to get this over with. She shifted, sat with her back to the panel, and began to loosen her top. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled it up and over her head, then pulled her knees up to her newly-bared chest.

No wasting this one. Jentorra shifted her weight, threw her top back over her shoulder, and lunged out of cover - as her top was disintegrated, she made it behind the humming altar, the cold blue pillar of light just inches from her. She caught her breath, hyper-aware of the rise and fall of her chest.

Not for the first time, she wished the rebellion’s strange guests had stayed around. The girl, Cassie, her shrinking suit would likely make short work of this trapped room - would the device even sense someone as small as her?

Not that it mattered. She’d fought Kang without help before.

Jentorra knelt up, and had about a second to realise her mistake - there was a trailing edge to her skirt, a strip of toughened hide that didn’t cling to her skin. It drifted out past cover as she moved, and the turret blasted, and she felt a rush of warmth as the beam missed her skin, but very much succeeded in disintegrating her skirt.

The shock of losing her last piece of clothing made her jump, and what had been a tentative shift to peer up at the beam of light and it’s controls, became a jerk - her fingertips brushed the light.

And then there was a flash, and everything went golden-white.