Return from Exile

Chapter 3

Garen and Conus crouched behind a wide Otay tree, each peering from opposite sides as the Vorcon soldiers advanced on the cabin. Blasters ready, their breath misted in the cool night air. The twin moons cast just enough light to reveal the figures creeping closer.

Conus leaned toward Garen. “Too bad we couldn’t reach the vehicle in time,” he whispered.

“The vehicle?” Garen’s eyes narrowed as he whispered back.

“The one out front,” Conus replied, nodding toward the cabin where the vehicle stood.

Garen shook his head. “Yeah,” he paused before continuing. “But it wouldn’t be a good idea, Taylen.”

“Why not?” Conus asked. All he could think about was putting distance between them and the Vorcons, hoping to find safety. “It would’ve been a good way to lose them, find shelter.”

“It’d make us a target. They probably have air support, and it’s noisy. The heat signature alone would give us away. Besides, I left the keys inside the cabin.”

“Keys?” Conus echoed, surprised.

“Never mind,” Garen muttered.

Conus’s mind raced, searching for a solution. No matter what had happened, this was still his mission—to bring Garen Rivers back. The best course now seemed to be sticking with the general and following his lead.

“Is there a long-range comms array at the spaceport? There has to be.” Conus knew little about Calio Landing, a small, unremarkable port to anyone who didn’t live there.

“There is, but we’re not going there,” Garen said firmly. “I’m not dragging the Vorcons anywhere near Calio Landing.”

Their options were dwindling.

“I need to send for backup,” Conus insisted, frustration seeping through. Why doesn’t he want help? I don’t want to be stuck here. Conus had assumed Garen was reluctant to deal with the RDF, but it wasn’t that—Garen didn’t want to risk the Camerians. It was as simple as that.

If the RDF showed up now, Garen would accept their help without question—if it meant ending this. But that didn’t mean he wanted to go back. All he truly wanted was for this to be over, to return to the life he had grown used to. No Colonel Taylen. No Vorcons. Yet, that seemed impossible now. Tonight had set a chain of events in motion that couldn’t be undone. He had nothing left to lose.

Garen sighed. “Help’s too far. It’s just us now, Colonel. You know what the Vorcon Empire did to the Camerians—what state they left them in.”

Conus nodded. “I do.”

Garen had led two task forces to liberate Calio, the Camerians' homeworld, from the Vorcons. The first mission had failed, but the second succeeded—though the damage was done. The Vorcons had left the planet in ruins, and recovery was still far from complete. Now, many Camerians were scattered across settlements like Calio Landing. Once a unified people, they were now spread thin across the galaxy.

“We need another way,” Garen said.

“But won’t the Camerians need our help?” Conus asked. The Camerians were known for their peaceful, almost carefree nature—not fighters.

“They’ll be fine. They’ve been attacked before and have taken precautions to protect themselves.” Garen turned to Conus, his expression hardening. “Listen, Colonel, we have to take them out.” He gestured toward the four Vorcons nearing the cabin.

“We’re attacking?” Conus asked, his gaze flicking toward the Vorcons. He had assumed they’d make a run for it.

“We can’t let them follow us, and we can’t stay here. They killed your team, Colonel,” Garen said coldly. He hated it—this place had been his peace, his home. Now, two marines lay dead on his land. A wave of cold detachment washed over him, but it still didn’t feel right. It all feels pointless.

“You have a plan?” Conus asked, tightening his grip on his blaster.

Garen gestured toward the Vorcons, outlining a strategy. Conus wasn’t entirely convinced it would work, but he was ready to follow Garen’s lead.

“Seen much combat, Colonel?” Garen asked, briefly eyeing Conus’s augmentations. He was trying to gauge how useful someone so heavily augmented might be in this scenario. Does it enhance his reaction time? Make him faster? It has to.

“Some, General,” Conus replied evenly. He had seen plenty of action. Since joining the RSIA, he had found himself in increasingly dangerous missions. He was a good shot and skilled in deflecting melee attacks. Normally, he felt confident. But the Vorcons unsettled him. They weren’t ordinary opponents—they felt almost surreal.

Sometimes, when we build something up in our minds, it becomes harder to overcome. We convince ourselves it can’t be done. He had heard those words before, though he couldn’t recall where. It was strange for someone who could remember most things in vivid detail, yet this memory, like others from a certain time, remained elusive—fragmented within him.

Conus took a deep breath, steadying himself. He glanced at Garen, whose eyes remained locked on the advancing Vorcons, unflinching.

With the plan set, Garen nodded and adjusted his weapon—a QSF-14 Fusion Blaster. It was a classic in the QSF series. Garen’s version, however, had a shorter range than the standard model but packed a far stronger punch. It had been gifted to him and further modified, making it one-of-a-kind—a weapon of pure lethality.

Conus eyed the blaster in Garen’s hand. Slugger, he thought, recalling the nickname it had earned. He wasn’t sure if Garen ever used it himself, but judging by what he’d seen, it seemed unlikely. Conus remembered cadets ranking it as "Renowned," with stories of its legendary use circulating during the long war between the Seven Worlds of Rhyus and the Vorcon Empire.

“The Vorcons won’t hesitate, Colonel. We can’t either. They think we’re still inside—we’ve got the element of surprise,” Garen said, .

“Understood, sir,”

“Flank left, draw their fire. I’ll take the right,” Garen instructed, reaffirming the plan.

Conus nodded, ready to execute.

The Vorcons entered the clearing further, fully visible now as they prepared to breach the cabin. Four of them, clad in their signature black armor—unchanged, Garen noted.

Conus moved along the perimeter, slipping into the shadows of the towering Otay trees. He used the thick trunks for cover, positioning himself around the clearing. Activating his barrier field, he felt the protective energy envelop him.

The Vorcons spread out in front of the cabin, weapons raised, still convinced they had the upper hand.

Garen took a moment to assess the situation as Conus settled into position. Three of the Vorcons carried Distortion Rifles, while the fourth had a Vorcon Displacer sniper rifle slung across their back, with a Dissolver sidearm drawn. Each had sheathed blades, and one bore a Kelkor Blade.

Garen had faced Vorcons wielding Kelkors before. Those battles had nearly cost him his life, saved only by luck. The others carried Kords, equally lethal energy weapons. Once activated, energy fields would envelop the physical blades.

Conus fired first, as planned, landing several hits on the Vorcons. His blaster fire—sharp orange streaks—cut through the night, drawing their attention. Unprepared, their shields flickered, already absorbing damage.

With the Vorcons scrambling to return fire and focusing on Conus’s position, Garen seized the moment. He opened fire from the right, his blaster unleashing bursts of orange energy tinged with static white. Each shot hit its mark, adding to the Vorcons' confusion as they began to zero in on Conus’s location. Two of them turned and fired at Garen, but they were startled, unfocused. Garen’s barrier field flickered to life, absorbing the hits.

Together, Garen and Conus strafed the Vorcons, advancing with synchronized volleys. Trapped in the clearing with no adequate cover, the Vorcons found themselves under fire from two directions. Their personal shields flared, barely holding under the relentless assault, but holding for now. For a brief moment, the Vorcons appeared completely disoriented, caught off guard by the ambush.

Garen landed several direct hits, but his close-range weapon wasn’t effective at this distance. He tried to close in, but there was no opening. Meanwhile, Conus, equipped with a longer-range blaster, kept firing precise shots, gradually weakening the Vorcons' shields. He took some hits as well, but the Vorcons were reeling, their shields visibly failing.

Still, the Vorcons were relentless. It wouldn’t be that easy. They regrouped quickly, and the fight devolved into a brutal exchange. The confusion that had given Garen and Conus the upper hand was gone. The Vorcons had refocused, and now the two men’s shields began to flicker, holding but draining rapidly under the concentrated retaliatory fire.

Garen’s concern grew. Their shields wouldn’t last much longer without a chance to recharge.

“Cover, now!” Garen barked.

Both men darted to new positions, narrowly avoiding another barrage of shots. Each took a hit while moving, their barrier fields absorbing the impacts but depleting further. Hunkering down behind the thick trunks of the Otay trees, they gave their shields a brief moment to recover.

The Vorcons scrambled for cover as well. The trees they chose weren’t as thick.

Sniper fire zipped past Garen’s head, nearly hitting him.

The clearing had turned into a battlefield. Energy blasts lit up the forest, the sudden heat clashing with the cold night air. Stray shots scorched the surrounding trees.

Garen and Conus held on, returning fire whenever they could. They needed to press the attack. Though their accuracy suffered due to their positions, they kept the pressure on. Neither side wanted to give the other an advantage.

As the exchange continued, the Vorcons’ cover began to fail. The trees around them, weakened by Conus’s fire, started to splinter and collapse.

The Vorcons scrambled to find better positions, regrouping as they continued to return fire steadily.

“Surrender, General!” a deep, raspy voice cut through the chaos, the Vorcon hiss echoing in the clearing.

“I’ll consider it!” Garen shot back, unleashing another volley. He glanced across the clearing—Conus was still in the fight, taking cover, his barrier holding as he fired shots at the enemy.

Vorcon Fal Velharith, a Centurion by rank, had been tasked with leading the strike team to kill General Garen Rivers. His commander had a long history with Garen, and Fal was eager to carry out the order. His Kelkor blade remained sheathed at his side. You will die by my hands, General.

The tree Garen had been using for cover exploded above his head after repeated fire, splinters flying as concentrated shots struck it. He rolled swiftly to another tree, barely dodging the next barrage.

Reaching for his belt, Garen pulled out three Fractal grenades, a quick smile crossing his face.

“Taylen!” he shouted.

Conus nodded in acknowledgment.

Fractal grenades—perfect for disrupting energy shields.

Garen hurled the grenades toward the Vorcons, targeting three separate locations in rapid succession. The grenades hit the ground near their targets.

Garen and Conus stayed behind the trees, avoiding the blast’s impact as shockwaves rippled through the ground. The Vorcons’ shields flickered, then collapsed under the intense energy disruption, leaving them physically stunned.

“Move!” Garen shouted.

Both men sprang to their feet, advancing with a barrage of fire. The grenades had shattered the Vorcons' shields, leaving them disoriented. Though they still gripped their weapons, their aim was wild and unfocused.

Garen moved in closer, each shot finding its mark. The nearer he got, the more powerful his blaster became, tearing through the weakened armor. He took down one Vorcon, leaving a smoldering hole in its chest.

Conus followed, his shots just as precise. Aiming for vital points, he quickly took down another, his blaster cutting clean through the failing armor.

With a final burst, Conus locked onto the next Vorcon. His aim was steady, and with a series of sharp, precise shots, he overwhelmed the opponent. The Vorcon’s armor crumbled under the intense fire.

As the last Vorcon fell, leaving Fal alone, the Centurion staggered, unsheathing his Kelkor blade with a defiant yell. Garen didn’t hesitate. He aimed directly at Fal and fired a clean shot, hitting him square in the face. The blaster surged with extra energy—a quirk of Garen’s modified weapon. Fal’s Kelkor blade slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground as his body crumpled, his shattered helmet exposing raw flesh.

Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of burning trees. The bodies of the fallen Vorcons lay scattered near the marines—a small measure of justice.

As the battle's sounds faded, Garen and Conus stood amid the wreckage, their breathing ragged. The Vorcons’ pale, cold skin peeked through the charred remains of their shattered armor, their bone-like fingers still gripping their weapons.

Conus holstered his blaster and pulled a scanner from his belt. As he scanned the area, a reading appeared. “Two more!” he shouted to Garen.

Before Garen could respond, two larger Vorcons emerged, advancing with Plasmord blades drawn. These bruisers were taller, bulkier than the previous attackers—designed for brute strength and unwavering obedience. They grunted as they charged forward, their massive forms crashing through the underbrush.

Conus activated his forearm shield just in time to block the first bruiser’s strike. The kite-shaped energy shield flickered to life, absorbing the force of the oversized Plasmord blade. Sparks flew as energy clashed, the impact nearly knocking Conus off balance. He searched for an opening, reaching for his blaster, but staying on his feet was a challenge. Each strike from the bruiser hit harder than the last.

Meanwhile, Garen activated his Heater Projection shield, deflecting the bruiser’s blows. But his shield, not fully charged, was already faltering. He knew he couldn’t rely on it for long. Dodging and weaving to avoid further attacks, Garen’s shield gave out completely after blocking another hit, leaving only his barrier field, which was rapidly depleting under the relentless assault.

Garen’s barrier flickered as blow after blow rained down from the Plasmord blade. It wouldn’t hold much longer. With one final strike, the barrier flickered out, leaving Garen fully exposed.

The bruiser swung again, but Garen rolled just in time, the blade missing by inches. The force would have been lethal. As he rolled, Garen snatched the Kelkor blade from Fal’s fallen body and ignited it. The weapon hummed with raw, violent energy, its low frequency unsettling.

Barely braced, Garen met the bruiser’s next strike. The two blades clashed violently. Matching the bruiser’s strength was impossible. Each blow grew heavier, forcing Garen to deflect and dodge, sweat trickling down his face as the relentless attacks drove him back. The bruiser’s massive form seemed unstoppable. Garen ducked under another heavy swing, the blade crackling through the air.

Nearby, Conus was locked in his own battle. Each hit from the Vorcon reverberated through his forearm shield, rattling his bones. He tried to counter, but the bruiser pressed hard, leaving no room for error. Conus managed to fire a few shots, but the Vorcon’s armor absorbed most of the hits. One shot landed solidly, but the bruiser’s shield took the full impact. Conus was holding his ground, but the bruiser showed no signs of slowing.

The clash of blades echoed through the clearing. Arcs of energy lit up the night, filling the air with raw power. Garen found himself backed against a burning tree, the heat searing behind him. The bruiser swung again, but Garen dodged. The Vorcon staggered over debris, giving Garen an opening.

“Come on, you big goof,” Garen muttered.

Garen slashed the Vorcon’s leg with the Kelkor and followed up with a clean strike to the neck. The Bruisers collapsed to the ground.

Across the clearing, Conus was struggling. The bruiser had gained the upper hand, knocking him to the ground. He barely managed to block a few more blows as his forearm projection shield flickered and then failed. With a roar, the bruiser raised his sword for a killing strike.

The blade came down, but Conus rolled aside just in time, the weapon burying itself in the dirt. His shield and barrier were both depleted—he was completely exposed.

Garen sprinted toward him, his breath ragged. The Vorcon raised his blade again, ready to deliver the final blow. Kelkor in one hand, blaster in the other, Garen fired rapidly. The bruiser’s shield absorbed the shots, but its energy was nearly drained.

The bruiser turned, swinging his massive sword at Garen. He parried with the Kelkor, their weapons clashing violently. They traded blows, each strike ringing out through the clearing. Conus, now back on his feet, fired at the bruiser’s exposed back. The Vorcon’s shield finally gave out, its blue glow fading to nothing. Disoriented, the bruiser hesitated.

Garen didn’t. He drove the Kelkor into the Vorcon’s stomach and twisted, his face tight with anger. The bruiser collapsed, blood pooling beneath his frame.

But Garen wasn’t finished. Adrenaline still surging, he fired one more shot into the fallen bruiser, point-blank, leaving a smoking hole beside the embedded Kelkor blade.

Deactivating the blade, Garen tossed it aside and helped Conus to his feet.

“You alright?” Garen’s voice was hoarse, strained from the intensity of the fight.

“Yeah, sir,” Conus replied, still catching his breath but steady.

For a moment, both men stood in silence, surrounded by the wreckage. Battle debris lay scattered, with smoldering trees lining the clearing. Conus moved toward the bodies of the fallen marines.

“This is all on me,” he whispered to himself, barely audible.

Garen shook his head at the state of it all.

“Our intel didn’t pick up any threat here. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know how they slipped in undetected,” Conus said, looking to Garen, feeling the weight of responsibility.

“It wouldn’t be the first time our intel’s been off,” Garen replied.

Conus nodded. “Is there a ship we can use nearby?” His hope was fading, but he had to ask. It didn’t seem likely.

Garen sighed, frustration clear on his face. “No.” He paused, reconsidering. Maybe...

He looked at his home one last time.

“It’s time to leave,” he said, casting a lingering glance at the cabin.

Smoke curled from the smoldering trees around the clearing.

“Good thing it’s going to rain tomorrow,” Garen muttered.

Without another word, Conus followed him into the forest, unsure where the general was taking them.