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makapatag · 4 years

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GUMAMELA, a Maharlika short story

GUMAMELA

[hibiscus]

[art by @msquared_art on Twitter]

IT WAS NIGHT in one part of the planet known as Pasinsya, and day in the other. It circled around a halogen sun. It had two natural satellites: one that was green, covered in trees and budding with dambanas, natural shrines to the diwata, and another that was a simple stone gray, untouched, for a celestial diwata, intelligent, nature-personification consciousnesses that inhabited various celestial bodies, lived within it, and watched over Pasinsya. These two moons were known as Berde and Niyebe.

It was in the night where the first ships came and established an outpost in a hidden, darkened ravine. They rode on strange ships of crystallized silk harnessing dying star drives, with murals and paintings scrawled upon the undersides of their ships, depicting waves. This symbolic-creation technology is what allowed these strange heron-draconic xenobeings to encompass most of their galaxy, and what gave them the privilege to expand out and start conquering others.

But this planet, Pasinsya, was not their planet. It was not their home. It was home to a number of people--one that lived by the border of night and day. Watch with me, fellow readers, as I speak into existence and then solidify, calcify, and preserve their endearing truths through my thought-writings.

This planet was--

/// WARNING: XENOBEING SALIMBAL DETECTED HEADING TOWARD YOUR PLANET’S TRAJECTORY. EXPECT HELP WITHIN 3 DAYS. BE BRAVE. IF MERCY IS UNAVOIDABLE, SURRENDER. DEATH COMES FOR ALL. LONG LIVE THE LAKANATE. ///

--oh! And as you can see: the warning came without preamble.

It was a simple message. One that was broadcast across all of the Panuos units of the quaint little barangay of Dulo, a barangay of quaint bamboo huts sitting beside concrete three floor apartment complexes, all radiating from a single stone chapel and a large and longer hut made of limestone.

The message buzzed Panuos units, waking the entire barangay up in the middle of the night. Cryptic. Like a thief, a nightmare. A message that only served to tighten the constricting ropes of anxiety already snaking about the barangay-folks’ necks.

In the morning, the barangay folk of Barangay Santolan arose immediately to panic and distress. The people took to the plaza, which was outfitted with a neat (yet unfortunately unmaintained) fountain depicting a slender figure wielding a staff topped with a five pointed star on one hand, and then a simple bolo blade on the other. That was made of stone.

The city hall was wide open. The people voiced their uncertainties by virtue of screaming it out and creating a massive ball of pure non-understandable noise.

“Ginang Akina orders silence,” bellowed a large man to the side of the elderly woman standing above a makeshift bamboo platform. The man was clearly modded: a shock of white hair, half a body made of strange steel and flesh organic prosthetics, which had strange bamboo tubes sticking out the side.

Ginang Akina cleared her throat before she spoke. “As you all know, we have been sent a distressing message from the SD-SK itself, of whose mandala we are part of. Firstly, we have no reason for panic or alarm. I have been told that the SD-SK are sending passenger ships to evacuate us before the Xenobeings attack.

“But the message said death comes for all!” said a stray, nondescript voice arising from the firmament of words.

“That is true,” replied the Maginoo. She flourished, making sure that her ankle long barong made of pina fiber was clean and immaculate and hugged her figure. The barong was, after all, one of the few uniform formal wear in Arkipelago. “However, the SD-SK will not abandon us, especially since we have been so integral to being a porting station and trading station for Horizon goods. We must all have faith.”

More noise, more arguing.

It eventually awoke-- no. He never slept. He wasn’t able to sleep after the message. At 0300 in the morning, he simply sat in his balcony, staring outside. He wore a simple pull-over sweater made of light rattan fiber, and pants that billowed before cuffing and hugging his ankles. Of course, the most striking feature about him was his white-pink hair, which sometimes seemed to glow when struck with light in the darkness.

He gazed at the plaza, sitting, fiddling with a leaf that shone pure blue, which he found when he fell into a cave to the far north, right at the border. The smell of hot porridge and coffee and freshly baked bread wafted from the street below him. Behind him, the door slid open, and a hand placed a cup of coffee on the small coffee table. “Hey, are you okay?”

His brother, an older one. The one that had even lighter hair than he did. He was also taller, slender, and wore glasses which only emphasized his gray eyes. A lady-killer, through and through. “Hoy, Paolo.”

Paolo nodded, forcing irritation to flee him. “I am, I am. Sorry. Thanks for the coffee.”

“The message kept you up, huh?”

Paolo nodded.

“You afraid for Santolan?”

Paolo nodded again. “If only I was older… I could’ve had a Meka by now. I could’ve been a Maharlika, and defended Santolan.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, alright. Don’t do that.”

“I know that but... “ Paolo sighed. “Look, Alvaro, this is the first time in 10 years you’ve been here.”

“And what are you trying to say?”

“You obviously haven’t grown very attached to this barangay like I have.”

A silence. One eventually torn down by a scoff. “Sure, you could believe that. But right now, we have no choice. The Xenobeing attacks have been escalating lately. They’ve been invading more and more of Arkipelago. We’re undermanned, undefended, and abandoned. We have to evacuate.”

Paolo breathed again. “If only I had a Meka. If only Lola hadn’t died so soon and trained me more.”

Another silence. Paolo was leaning with both elbows on the balcony. Alvaro stared at him, perhaps longing, before sighing and ruffling his pink hair. “Don’t dwell in the past. Keep your ears open for updates. Diwa knows we’ll need it. Oh, and Aling Apolina has some lugaw ready downstairs. Just come down, alright?”

Paolo heard the door slide closed behind him.

With another breath, Paolo pushed himself off of the balcony. He couldn’t sulk now. He had to do something. If he didn’t he was sure he was going to live with regret.

He quickly jumped and leapt off of the balcony, pushing himself off of the stone railings. His hands caught a galvanized steel rooftop, and he pulled himself over and up. He strode across that rooftop, reached its edge, and then leapt off of it once again, this time using the propulsion systems installed onto his boots to propel him further. An entire street, crossed.

Wind whipped at his hair, sending his oversized shirt in every direction, and he hopped from roof-to-roof until he managed to climb up to the highest point of Barangay Santolan: the bell tower of the Chapel of Saint Abuayen. He pushed himself to the top of the bell tower and sat by an unused scaffolding. From there, he basked in the view of his Barangay, his beloved barangay. The City Hall, the broken fountain, the basketball court (3 of them in one street), the Church itself, his house which stood atop Aling Apolina’s Gotohan place.

“Oy! Get down from there, Paolo!”

Paolo looked down and saw Manong Juancho, wearing a simple black robe and holding a bamboo broom. “You might get yourself hurt!”

“It’s alright, I have a scaffolding!”

“Aish! That doesn’t matter! Get down here, you!”

Paolo rolled his eyes, pushed himself off of the scaffolding, and fell straight down the bell tower. “Ay, my God!” he heard Manong Juancho curse as he fell.

He activated the propulsion systems which pushed him up and out and into the main chamber of the bell tower. “You seem to have forgotten that my brother is an Altar-Factory engineer.”

Manong Juancho was holding himself up by holding on to the bell tower’s stone with one hand. His other was on his chest, grasping his heart. “Do not ever do that again.”

Paolo couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, alright, I apologize.”

“Bah! You always say that, but you do it again anyway! You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” said Manong Juancho. Silence again as he waited for the Manong to collect himself. “The barangay folk are in a flurry. We’re all preparing for evacuation. So should you.”

Paolo swallowed. “That’d be hard to do, Manong.”

Isidoro didn’t reply right away. There was a pause, a slight nuance of quiet. “Well, get along then. Get your nosy pink hair out of the bell tower.”

Paolo simply nodded. With another flourish, he flipped backwards and out of the belltower, and used the propulsion systems to buffet his fall.

The plaza floor was made of rounded stones. A beautiful kind. It was marred by footsteps and bootprints as the people had already begun to disperse, some of them preparing for evacuation, others hurriedly getting their stalls and booths and shops open. In the city plaza, Ginang Akina and her body modded cohort had already left, seemingly retreating back to the City Hall.

Paolo walked by a simple old man wearing a shirt, some shorts, and a dirty, greasy apron. In one hand he had a strange contraption: a circuit board. “Hm?” asked Paolo, tapping on the Panday’s sweaty shoulder. He had heavy dark circles around his eyes.” “Hey, Panday Ciriano: what’s that in your hand?”

“A circuit board, anak. But don’t bother me right now. I’ve got some preparing to do.”

Paolo opened his mouth to say something more, but then decided against it. Biting his tongue, he smiled and nodded. Instead, he turned around and walked toward the two establishments north of the city plaza: the stone chapel of the Priest and the bamboo hut of the Katalonan.

He opened the door of the chapel, revealing to him rows of pews and the smell of burning incense. By the altar stood two figures: one dressed in a simple black frock, and another wearing an intricate white robe over a beautifully designed okir vest and bahag.

“Father Isidore, Katalonan Silongga.” Paolo’s voice echoed against the walls of the establishment.

The two religious figures turned to face him. “Paolo, iho,” said Father Isidore. “What are you doing here? You should be back with Alvaro, preparing to evacuate!”

Paolo swallowed. “W-Well, Father, y’see… I…”

Katalonan Silongga shook her head, her white hair cascading down her broad shoulders. “I can see his heart,” said the Katalonan. “And his heart wishes to stay and to fight.”

Father Isidore’s eyes widened a bit at first, before he turned that surprise into a breath and a smile. “Iho, you are young. You have a long life ahead of you. We have no means to fight back against the Xenobeings! They will annihilate us.”

“But we can’t--!”

“Iho,” Father Isidore cut in. “You wish to become a Maharlika, yes? You wish to make us proud and fight for us in Arkipelago. How can you do that if you are dead and gone?”

“We can fight. We can! If only we had… If only we had a Meka. A NEO Gen Meka. Did the SD-SK even give a time for when their reinforcements will arrive? They didn’t!”

Father Isidore shook his head and sighed. He turned to the Katalonan. “Katalonan, speak some sense into this child. I have to attend to the evacuation efforts. Peace be with the both of you.” And with that, he walked out of the chapel through the back room.

Paolo stood resolute. He couldn’t help but think that this was not the last thing they could do. There was something more. His burning youth spurred him onward, melting away any doubts of death or non-existence of any way to fight back.

“Your heart beats just like your Lola’s.”

“Wh-What?”

“I was young when your Lola lived here, in Barangay Santolan. You do remember your Lola, right?”

Paolo nodded. Of course. She was the reason why he wanted to be a Maharlika in the first place. “Yes. She was Barangay Santolan’s only Maharlika, pledging her loyalty to Paramount Datu Prakash Arsiya of the Sandatang Sangkatauhan.”

“Her blood boils in your veins, anak. I’m sure this stubbornness and hard-headedness is the effect of that cause. You will not fall. You will not leave this home place. Just like your Lola.”

“But… Lola Zenaida is dead, isn’t she?”

“She is, with a proper burial in the Grave of Heroes. She died fighting against remnants of various Corporations from the Corporation Wars, after all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“The truth in your heart is hard to shadow and obfuscate. My beloved anak, west of this Barangay, in the Pagitan Falls beside the borderline of Day and Night, you will find what your Lola has left for you to find. This is a gigantic gamble on my part, but you Paolo… you may not have the skill, or the attributes, but you have the heart. And perhaps, that will be enough.”

Paolo had prepared up a backpack filled with essentials and gear and told Alvaro that he was going to the evacuation site. It seemed, though, that Alvaro didn’t seem too invested in listening to Paolo, as he sat in front of his LiPa and typed away, a worried visage wrapped about his face.

He walked to the edge of the barangay, where the dirt road shot into the bamboo foliage. He wore something simple: a white camisa with brown pants and some slippers.

“Oy, Paolo!” He looked up to see Josefina running after him. Her short hair only cupped her brown face, and she wore a simple white shirt underneath a waist-high skirt that was woven with magnificent geometric okir designs. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Fifi, don’t bother. Please stay behind and help Aling Apolina.”

She pouted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I…” Paolo rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the sky, his face pulled into a pained grimace. “I’m going to Pagitan.”

“The Falls? What for?”

“There is something important there that I must find. It’s… a mission given to me by Katalonan Silongga.”

“Bullshit. Don’t try to excuse your way out of explaining this, pink boy.”

Paolo bit his lip. “But it’s true! Look, go back to the barangay now and let me handle this.”

“Too late, I’m coming with you. Do you even remember where Pagitan is?”

He didn’t. “I do! Please, don’t come with me. I can’t risk it--”

“Come on then. I know a route that can lead us there in an hour flat. Well enough time for us to get there, do whatever stupid shenanigans you want to do, then get back here and finish evacuation efforts.”

Fifi was 2 years younger than Paolo, but he couldn’t help but think that she knows more about the world than he does. Her speech, her gait, all spoke to him that he could definitely hold her own, alone, against the world.

But Paolo knew that in Arkipelago, they didn’t do things alone. There was always family.

“Fifi...” spoke Paolo as he heard the rushing of Pagitan. Up ahead, he could already see the pall of darkness that was the Night Side of the planet of Pasinsya, this tidally-locked planet.

“We’re almost there.”

“...Why did you decide to come with me, anyway?”

Fifi didn’t answer.

Eventually, they arrived at a larger clearing. They were at the base of Pagitan Falls. They walked upstream the river where the waterfall flowed. There, the great height of the Pagitan dizzied even Paolo.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes, this is Pagitan Falls.” To the right of the falls Paolo could see a few bamboo huts on stilts, the huts they used to rest in or eat in while bathing in the falls.

“Alright, now can you tell me the truth? Why did you come here to Pagitan?”

Paolo turned and looked at Fifi and sighed. He placed both of his hands on both of Fifi’s shoulders. “You promise not to tell anyone?” Despite seeming so old, Fifi was still a head shorter than Paolo.

“Yes, yes.”

“Katalonan Silongga has told me that my Lola Zenaida left something for me to find here in Pagitan Falls. That’s why I’ve come here.”

“And you came here instead of preparing for evac because you think it’ll help you fight against the Xenobeings, didn’t you?”

Paolo licked his lips. “It’s a bit more complicated than that but--”

Fifi pulled herself from Paolo’s grasp, stomped the grass. “God’s balls--you’re so damn easy to read, Pao! We can’t do this. I’m taking you back.”

“What? No. We’re already here. I’m doing this. I can’t leave Barangay Santolan behind.”

“Yes you can. We can find a better, prettier place than this in some other planet. But right now, we have to leave.”

“No! We have to stay and fight--” And Fifi struck Paolo across the cheek.

“I really do have to knock some sense into you, huh? We can’t stay here. How many times do I have to say it? We are going to die. We are going to die here if we don’t go now.”

“No. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, so what, you’re a Maharlika now? You’re all high and mighty,? The cavalry? Give me a break, Paolo! You’re going to get yourself killed! There’s nothing here, and even if there is, say, a Meka, you wouldn’t even know how to pilot it.”

“I’ve done simulations. I can do it.”

“Bullshit!” And another strike from Fifi. Paolo retaliated then, grabbing the Fifi by both wrists, and then rushing and pinning her against a nearby boulder.

Mouth near her ear he said, “You’re going to stop, and you’re going to help me find what it is that my Lola has left for me to find.”

“No. I’m going to knock some sense into you, and you’re going to come back with me. I don’t want you to die.”

“If you hate me so much, just leave me alone then!”

Fifi looked at Paolo with wet eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Her voice cracked.

Paolo opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from behind him stopped him. “Oh, won’t you two kiss already?” The voice was human, but accompanied by three more layers of voices, as if four people were talking at the same time.

Paolo turned around, whipping out a revolver he had at his waist.

Behind them was a simple woman, sitting by the riverbank, white haired and floating in the wind as if she was underwater. She wore simple garb: a tapis, bakya, and a vest wrapping around her chest, exposing her midriff. Her eyes were pure black, without any irises, only night sclera.

“Wh-Who are you?”

She turned her face to him. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”

“What?”

Sighing, the lady rose to her feet. “Follow me, descendant. Your Lola sure had some strange failsafes and contingencies. Who knew she could foresee something so distant and variable as a Xenobeing invasion and a young man that happened to be her grandson trying to fight back against it? Ah, the Diwa is mysterious, sometimes.”

“What are you---”

“Follow me,” commanded the woman, and Paolo did follow.

The two of them walked up the lake formed by the falls, their feet touching the water but not getting wet. Paolo’s heart raced when he realized that he wasn’t falling into the water.

Eventually they arrived in front of the rushing waterfall. With a wave of the woman being’s hand, the falls split into two, defying gravity. Behind the falls was a grand door, made of gold and stone, with a simple red orb in the middle, wrapped by large roots and vines.

The woman spoke: “UWIAN SILA opens the door.”

The red orb dilated and then turned into a burning green; the roots and vines receded like retreating snakes. The stone gate shuddered and opened...

...eventually showing a huge hangar within. A complex of roots and vines, with each root and vine having a different computer and machine interface upon them, with holograms emanating from solidified leaves and branches. The heat of the maintaining fire bellowed from within, like a beating heart.

All the roots led back to a single large holding contraption, resembling a giant strangler fig. The branches and roots and vines of this giant strangler fig all were positioned in such a way to hold up a twenty foot tall… humanoid suit.

“A Meka…” The word escaped Paolo’s lips.

“You Lola’s,” said the woman. “She called it: Himagsikan 7.”

“Himagsikan 7,” repeated Paolo, breathless.

One can see the wooden skeleton frame beneath the burning white and gold platings that protected its mainframe. The simple head which was designed to look like it wore a wide-brimmed salakot. Its chest and arms were medium in weight, but its legs were heavy and bulky, with burning lights to indicate its power. It held a round mace in one hand, and a Kapre cannon in the other. Perhaps the most striking thing is that its shoulder mount is one that gave it a set of gigantic arms.

“You are to pilot that to combat the threat of the invading Xenobeings.”

“Can I do it?”

“With my help? Yes. Now, you must go back to your Katalonan to perform the Chaining Ritual so that I can help you pilot this.”

“Understood.” And Paolo ran off to Fifi and the two of them ran back to the barangay.

A few hours later, they returned. On the wet land beside the falls, they conducted the ritual. “You are sure about this? Chaining a Diwata to you is something most Maharlika have to mentally prepare for.”

UWIAN SILA appeared before them. “I will be doing it temporarily, so as to not overload his mental capacity. But I’m sure he can handle it. He has been having some preliminary Maharlika training thanks to his Lola’s antics.”

Paolo remembered then: the meditation exercises, the heavy weight lifting, the bathing in ice.

Was that all preparing him for this moment?

“Very well then.” And Katalonan Silongga began the ritual. A long winded one where she danced around Paolo sitting on the ground, with UWIAN SILA sitting on the ground across him. It was an intricate dance, one interspersed with incoherent babbling and thrusts of a spear tipped with a stone blade.

He knew it ended when UWIAN SILA’s eyes turned white to him. She then closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Paolo’s and Paolo was overcome with the feeling of cold. Just like what my Lola put me through.

It makes sense, now.

Paolo didn’t know he had his eyes closed until he opened them, and he saw the world a bit differently now. He can see the flames of the living things, the flow of life in every stone, the voice of every tree.

“I can see.”

“Kalagyo initiated. Good day, Paolo de Gumamela. I am UWIAN SILA, a Defender Principle Kalagyo.”

Katalonan Silongga knelt in front of him. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Paolo nodded. He forced himself up, and found that Fifi and Alvaro were both there to help him to his feet. He looked around, and he saw that Father Isidore and even Ginang Akina and her bodyguard were there. Paolo didn’t remember inviting them: he only invited the Katalonan and Panday Ciriano to look at the Meka.

“Wh-what…?”

“Breathe, Paolo,” said Alvaro. “Fifi, lay him against the boulder.” Fifi nodded, and she pulled him over to the stone to lie against it.

Alvaro turned to the three barangay heads. “Now, I have some important news to impart, and I did this away from the barangay so as to avoid eavesdroppers that would share this news and no doubt cause the barangay to erupt into chaotic panic.”

“Out with it, engineer,” said Ginang Akina.

“I traced the frequency and contacted SD-SK and have learned the following things. One: the SD-SK never sent that warning message. Two: the warning message used the SD-SK frequency, but didn’t come from a known source.”

“What?” The priest clenched his fist.

“I called for reinforcements to come immediately so that we could evacuate but…”

“But we are a Horizon Planet.”

“Yes,” said Alvaro. “They said it would take at least 5 days to get a passenger salimbal here for the evacuation.”

Paolo forced himself to his feet. Instead of feeling dizzier, he felt lighter, more acute. “Then I have to defend Barangay Santolan.”

“How do you think we can do that?” asked the priest. “We don’t have a Meka! A working one!”

It was then that Panday Ciriano walked out of the hangar behind the falls with gloved arm raised. “I got the Gahum Generator working!”

“Well,” said Ginang Akina. “There you have it.”

Father Isidore still shook his head. “You still can’t just put a young boy like Pao alone up against a damned Xenobeing army!”

“I just have to hold them off until you guys get to higher and safer ground,” said Paolo.

Ginang Akina nodded. “He’s right. To the southeast of here there is a safe outpost. Abandoned, but inhabitable. We can set the evacuation coordinates there and we could make the entire barangay travel there.”

“We can do that,” said the Katalonan. “We have horses and a few lifter suits don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“This is a fool’s errand!”

“You are not making sense here, Father,” said the Katalonan. “Come, we must break the news to the barangay folk.”

Alvaro turned to his brother. “Paolo, I know you have the blood of Lola Zenaida in you, but please, be careful. I will be sending you a message once we are in a safe distance. When you get it, leave the battlefield, alright? Come home safe.”

Fifi hugged Paolo from behind. “Please come home safe.”

Paolo nodded. “I will.”

“UWIAN SILA, activate the Meka,” said Paolo as he stood in front of the Himagsikan 7, wearing a silver and purple piloting suit that his Lola left behind for him in the Hangar’s dresser. Behind him, Panday Ciriano worked the various floating holographic displays that showcased mechanical information.

“Activating Himagsikan 7.” The Meka moved, then. Its chest burst open, revealing the cockpit within, with a tree-like spine that would connect to the Maharlika’s neural system. Its right hand let go of the mace and scooped Paolo into its chest.

Paolo settled into the seat, and the spiritual Diwa filaments connected to the piloting suit, which then seeped into Paolo’s own soul.

“Diwa Filaments connected. Soul subjectivity 50% sync.”

Paolo fought down the urge to puke. He opened his eyes and holographic screens appeared, seemingly projected by wooden branches from which more Diwa Filaments erupted.

“Let go of your mind, Paolo.”

Right, the meditation training.

He breathed, and let himself be empty.

UWIAN SILA’s voice echoed: “Neural network mapped. Soul upload complete. Soul subjectivity full sync. All systems engaged. Combat mode off. Safety engaged.”

“Himagsikan 7, GHW-S Ynaguiguinid balangkas unit. Ready for launch.”

Paolo moved, and even though he did not move within the Meka, his soul moved the gigantic construction. Step by step, every burning neural synapse burning his entire spirit as he forged forward, ahead, and soon, Himagsikan 7 was out of the waterfall.

He looked up, and through the THIRD-EYE Module of the head-unit of Himagsikan 7, he saw the invisible dragon alien laying by the bank of the lake, lying in wait.

As his soul grew accustomed to his armor, he moved faster. He raised his hand, and the Meka moved, its left hand pulling out a gun from a folding hip compartment. He levelled it and fired at the invisible thing.

It bolted to the right, completely evading the bullet, and shot straight up to Himagsikan 7. The soul, however, cuts like wind.

As the xenobeing, the Tsang-kko as they are called, these dragon aliens with bodies like serpents and manes like flowing thunder, burst toward him, its veil dissipated, revealing his shimmering azure form.

In a matter of seconds, the large gripping Mountain arms of Himagsikan 7 was upon the azure thing, and gripping it firmly, keeping the snapping maw of the dragon alien a few feet away from the head unit of the Himagsikan.

With mountain-shaking force, Himagsikan 7 heaved, and then threw the dragon alien toward the bank of the lake once again, where it crashed hard against the earth, and it flailed, and before it could get on its feet, Himagsikan 7 had used propulsors to jettison itself out of the lake, and onto the bank.

Himagsikan 7’s warhammer was high up, and it fell like a smith’s hammer on an anvil.

For all their god-like visage, the Tsang-kko still had bones, and all of them shattered when the hammer fell upon it. However, it didn’t give up. It flailed when it got hit, and then as Himasikan 7 was raising its arms, it shot up to push the Meka backwards and into the water.

Thinking quick, Paolo used the Mountain Arms to keep the Meka stable and to prevent it from falling backwards, and then used those same Arms to push Himagsikan 7 forward. Earth and lakewater were kicked up in large amounts, a corona of nature, as the Himagsikan used the momentum to bring down another hammer upon the Tsang-Kko, which was only beginning to get up once again, using its internal flight glands to float into the air.

The hammer slammed and embedded the dragon alien to the ground. It flailed, still. “REACTION AGIMAT: Aftershock Hydraulics, activate!”

“Activating AGIMAT,” replied the Meka, and the gears whirred, pistons pistoned. Movement exploded in a burst of speed, and the pistol was suddenly, aimed, locked, loaded, and fired. The bullet going straight through the head of the being.

It fell, limp, the winds about it dissipating. Himagsikan 7 stood triumphant, an omen of things to come.

The thundering of the Xenobeings’ salimbal echoed across the field. Panday Ciriano stood, riding a single machine lifter with rubber wheels like a tank’s, far behind him, amongst the bamboo shoots.

The Xenobeings didn’t need Meka. The Tsang-kko’s invading army stood by the precipice of night and day, their eyes revealing nothing but bloodlust. Their salimbals stood at ready to assist, but the frontlines burned with horrifying conquest.

Their larger units were larger than Himagsikan 7. Huge floating dragon-herons with behemoth scythes for claws. Burnings stars for eyes. The smaller frontline units were smaller power-armored ones, but none of them were humanoid. The Tsang-Kko had glands for defying gravity. It was their biology. They were floating serpentine dragons, not unlike the Eastern Dragons of legend.

And there they hovered, at the edge of darkness. The grass dead beneath their feet. The wind like water to their souls.

And then, with a crack of thunder, the Dragon-Heron Horde sounded a trumpet. One that reached to the heavens to make known their intent. At that trumpet sound came the beating of the drums, to signal the march. Each beat, more and more waves of Dragon-Heron Xenobeings revealed themselves from the Night Side of the planet.

The Dragon-Heron Horde charged forward, erupting from the darkness, showcasing their full might: biotechnologic marvels, scales instead of steel, green ghost flames powering flying airships with silk sails.

And Himagsikan 7 surged forward to meet them.

#filipino #mecha #fantasy #science fiction #short story #writing #maharlika #fiction #mythology #folklore #science fantasy

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