Rebels

When conciousness returned, Talassar found himself strapped on the back of a suit of powered armour; dashing madly through the streets of the Holy City in the midst of a running firefight. Blasts of plasma tore through the air, shredding plascrete buildings like paper, the reinforced structures peeling apart as they passed. Artillery shells whistled around them, explosions rumbling from every direction, leaving trails of smoke twisting into the sky.

A squad of powered armour led the way, the tattered armour and scratched plate marking the suits age. Talassar recognised the models as military surplus. Calling them out of date would be a compliment. A raised fist from the leading scout brought the group to a halt as the scout popped a camera from the suit's forearm to peer around the corner. A few seconds wait and they were on the move again, sprinting to cover across the street.

Talassar lay silent, blinding waves of pain radiating from his head as the binding dug its way deeper into his brain. He'd heard of the devices but never seen one. They were myths, created by the Guardians to constrain fallen Messengers.

Not humans.

At least until today.

He was covered in ash and a cape, his clothes burned away by the fallout from the fission grenades. The binding must not have sealed away his basic psychic protections, an odd omission from its restrictions. While the defences protected him from the heat and radiation, the impact must have knocked him around since bruises dotted his body, but compared to the ache in his mind and the void in his essence it was insignificant.

A wing of wolf-class fighters screamed across the sky, raining a hail of fire at some target, the ensuing shock wave pushing at Talassar's skin despite the distance. He turned to catch anti-air lasers coming to life, hissing blue beams turning half the wing to molten slag. A tank rumbled down the street behind them only to run into a handful of mines his current captors laid down to cover their retreat. Talassar flinched as shards of alloy fell around him, a single piece punching through his arm to clang against his armoured bearer.

An officer shouted orders, and they jumped to the third-floor balcony of an apartment, smashing the door as they broke in. Screaming citizens huddled against the walls, the sight of powered armour in their living room enough to create a panic. The officer opened his palms to show they weren't a threat but one of the older women fainted at the action. A boy ran up to them, shivering and waving a stick as he demanded they leave his family alone.

Talassar heard a dull crack and a piece of the binding flaked away. He blinked through a wave of pain as the boy's emotions poured into him, the rage, terror and helplessness threatening to drown him. With a significant effort, he managed to withdraw his senses. It shouldn't have been possible for him to use any of his abilities with the binding over him, even if it hadn't been attached correctly. It was supposed to be indestructible, bound to the essence of the person it imprisoned. Before he could consider the implications, stun guns were levelled and pulses of brilliant light rendered the citizens unconscious.

In short order Talassar was settled onto a couch and his wounds dressed. The soldiers dispersed to fortify the room with furniture and portable shield generators. A steel desk wouldn't be much protection in the face of plasma, but the extra half-second the plasma took to burn through could save lives. Although, Talassar would have kept moving, using the shock of their assault to buy time. Why they were stopping was a mystery.

Talassar breathed deeply, testing his abilities while he waited for his captors to finish their task. Strands of psychic essence spun out of his mind, coalescing into a weave. He strained at the effort. It felt like he was trying to lift weights underwater. The binding wasn't removed, but it was broken, the strange nullifying field it projected over his mind leaking from innumerable cracks. [It's impossible. Only a true Guardian would be able to penetrate my defences so easily and attach the binding. I doubt he'd make a mistake despite the combat, and I didn't have anything which could stop… unless… but the core should want me to be bound even more than the Guardian did.] Talassar rubbed his chest, deep in thought with his thumb running over the ridged scar that caused this entire mess.

"It's an honour to meet you Favoured." Talassar turned at the bass rumble, blinking at the rough, blocky face of the soldier who'd carried him from the Hall of War. He nodded, unsure why anyone who fought the Synod would be honoured to meet a Favoured.

"Don't chat with the prisoner, G." The officer slumped into a chair opposite Talassar and released the seal on her armour, the hiss of filtered air filling the room as she removed her helmet. Talassar coughed at the streams of dust and observed the woman. The cropped hair was a clear sign of military training and the artificial eye meant she'd faced actual combat. The damage must have been significant for regeneration not to be a viable option. She was expressionless, face schooled to placid perfection like the few Shadows he'd met during his tour on the Ezan front.

"Finished looking?" Barely contained rage oozed from her body and Talassar retracted his senses, beads of sweat forming at the effort. He would have to reserve use of his abilities unless necessary. The thought brought a sense of loss, a void at the lack of essence, and he summoned a strand of energy to sit on his finger.

[Comforting.]

Talassar shrugged. "I would think it's common to observe one's captors."

She snorted. "Still calm. You inhuman bastards are almost as bad as the Ezani."

"Strange thing to say. I am very much flesh and blood, not a single machine embedded in me." He paused and reached out to touch the binding, wincing at the dull ache passing through his skull at the sensation. "At least not of my own volition, unlike you." He stared at her artificial eye, tilting his head in confusion at her accusation.

"Now listen here…" she sprang to her feet, but the man known as G was at her side in a flash, hand pressing down on her shoulder as he whispered calming words. "I know G! I'll control myself for now but once we're done…" she shook his hand off and glared at Talassar.

They watched each other in silence for several seconds before she turned away in frustration. [Not a Shadow then. They would have stared for hours.]

"And why have you captured me?" Talassar flexed his fingers, letting the dust and ash coating his hands fall to the ground. He tilted his head, taking in the rest of the squad moving about their tasks. "Or should I consider you my rescuers?"

"Don't push your luck. Dog of the Synod you may be, but the commander wants you and we'll deliver."

"Commander? Ah…" He nodded. "Rebels." The whine of capacitors ramping up filled the room, charged plasma rifles aimed at his chest. Only G and a soldier lounging at the doorway remained calm, even the officer pulling a pistol and pressing it against his temple. [Twice in one day. I wonder what their problem is.]

"You're the rebels!" The officer roared, spittle flying to land on his face. "Traitors to humanity…" her mouth snapped shut when he raised his fingers. When a Favoured brought his hands to bear, dozens could die without notice.

"It's a factual description. Mind, I didn't call you terrorists as most people do. You're competing with an established authority therefore you are rebels. No need to get so worked up about a name." Talassar shook his head and wiped his face in disappointment. These rebels were always so touchy. "But you haven't answered my question. Why?"

"I think that deserves an answer M." The soldier resting in the doorway removed his helmet and Talassar grunted at the patchy blue hair underneath.

"He deserves nothing." The officer codenamed M spat. [Such unimaginative nicknames.]

"That wasn't a request M." The blue-haired man's voice was menacing as he stalked across the room to bear down on M. The blood drained from her face. Normally a sign of fear, but Talassar reached out and sensed the simmering rage underneath. The woman did not like being ordered around. "I'm in charge now that we've got the Favoured." M nodded curtly and stomped to a corner, glaring at Talassar and the man who could only be an Ironian agent.

"Apologies Favoured." The Ironian bowed and cupped a fist, an odd gesture of respect in their culture if he remembered correctly. "But we are pressed for time and questions will have to wait. Please bear with us until we manage our retreat."

"Some questions can't wait." Talassar leaned back, projecting confidence he didn't feel. Which was a trying task, his body and head throbbing with each twitch of muscle. It was doubtful they could recognise the binding device but the ease with which the Ironian spoke made him wary. They had a trump card to deal with him. He could feel it. His years of experience screaming warning rather than his curtailed psychic gifts.

"Then ask." The agent conceded. "But quickly."

"Where are we going?" If their escape plan was feasible he would tag along. Behaving confident and wasting time was one thing, but he was in no position to negotiate.

The Ironian hesitated, searching his face for a moment before answering. "I won't say exactly but our first stop is an HLA safe-house where we'll catch a blockade runner out of Delphi." That was easier said than done, but as the largest known rebel group, the Human Liberation Army definitely had the capacity.

"Fine. Why me?"

"Invincible." The Ironian whispered eyes gleaming with anticipation. Talassar jerked in surprise, his hand rising involuntarily to his chest. [Compared to the core… Of course! They must not know. I doubt the Guardians would let the news out.]

"You launched an attack on the Hall of War for a dreadnought?" Talassar was astounded. While he was happy for his freedom, the consequences of their actions were dire. M chuckled from her spot in the corner, darkness veiling her eyes, a twisted grin plastered across her face. Talassar grit his teeth and reached out, sensing her sadness and pain.

"Attack? You think we launched an attack for a dreadnought?" She picked up a remote and turned on the vid-screen behind him. Talassar raised an eyebrow in confusion but froze at the news report.

["… restore order. I repeat all citizens are requested to stay indoors as the Holy Guard moves to restore order." The anchor's hands shook, the pad he was holding almost slipping from his grip.

"Reports of terrorist attacks by rebel groups across the Theocracy are coming in. Thousands are dead or missing in the heinous nuclear strike on the Hall of War and fighting has broken out across every layer of the Holy City. We do not know what demands these terrorists have yet but stay tuned to DNN as we bring you the latest coverage"]

Talassar calmed himself, taking deep breaths as snippets of battle across the Theocracy arrived.

["… High Cardinal Aesthetica ordered to bring the Justice Flotilla over Delphi to aid rescue efforts… communications with the third fleet lost after reports of rebellion at the Arcadian shipyards… Glory-class cruiser High Charity goes down over Heaven's Gate… most Pious Hierophant declares Martial Law… Holy Guard deployed in full force across Delphi…"]

"No not an attack." M clenched her fist, shattering the remote. "We started a damned unholy war for that dreadnought."