Memories

    Dr. Torkos Arcflame marched down the corridor with the rhythmic steps of a soldier. His claws clicked consistently upon contact with the pale, tiled floor. The sound echoed down the empty, whitewashed hallways. A manila folder was in his grasp. The small strip of white naming the folder held only one, simple word, “RED.”
    
    The dragon reached the end of the hall. Two thick doors barred his way, leading to an examination room. It was one of the most secure places in the entirety of Torkos’s hospital, but it had failed once in containing the creature inside. Torkos knew it would fail again. No measures known to mankind could restrain the Demon. That didn’t stop Torkos from opening the doors and stepping inside.

    Green eyes met the Doctor. They were an almost poisonous green, set into the dragon’s skull. Deep red scales surrounded those eyes and covered most of the dragon. Spines worked their way up the dragon’s muzzle. Small sparks leapt between them like power nodes. Blue markings covered him, criss-crossing with a numberless amount of scars.

    The most revealing item about the dragon’s appearance was his apparent lack of wings. In their place were two painful looking scars, covering the entire length of the shoulder blades.

    The Demon glared at Torkos as he entered, lip curled to reveal fangs.

    “Hello Lightning,” Torkos said nonchalantly, not off put in the slightest by the Demon’s ire.

    “Torkos,” Lightning spat.

    Dr. Arcflame sighed as he crossed the examination room to a small counter, setting down the file and peering at Lightning with his solid gold eyes.

    “You know I had to do it, Lightning. If I didn’t intervene, you probably would have bitten that poor guy’s head off… horns and all.” Lightning averted his eyes and huffed. “This has to stop, Lightning,” Torkos continued in that flat tone of voice. The one he used when he was trying to hide his emotions. “You need to listen to me, for once, and take your goddamn medicine.” He pulled out a bottle of pills and set them down hard enough to make a loud clack and cause the pills to rattle inside.

    Torkos watched as the light faded from his friend’s eyes, his shoulders slumped as he sighed.

    The Doctor had hit a nerve, the same one he’d been hammering for almost a year now. Lightning was unstable. As a dragon, he’d seen and done a lot of things. Not much of it was pretty, nor was he particularly proud of any of it. The chronic PTSD he suffered from could be helped by Torkos’s meds, but, so far, nothing could cure it.

    “It was an accident,” Lightning whispered. Regret thickened his voice.

    “I know.” Torkos was nodding, sincerely understanding. He’d been diagnosed with PTSD too. After being trained in a covert military operation many years before, there was no way he could return to a normal life and live it… normally. Torkos had recovered from his affliction a year later after another military operation, and at that point, he was done. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. It was part of the reason why he’d gone and become a doctor; so he could stop his friends from dying. And he was damn good at his job.

    Torkos grabbed a chair from behind the counter and sat down before the Demon. Lightning didn’t register his presence.

    The Doctor clasped his claws in front of his muzzle, staring hard at the dragon. “Honestly Lightning, you intrigue me. This may sound shallow, but I can’t figure you out.”

    Lightning only grunted.

    “You’re trying to do the right thing now, I understand, but you fail to take your prescription. Do you want to go into a blood-rage every once in a while? Is that it?”

    “No!” Lightning snapped, growling.

    “Then what is it?” Torkos growled back. They were muzzle to muzzle, fangs bared.

    If it really came down to a fight, Lightning would surely win, but angering him was the only way Torkos could get a reply out of him while he was in a mood. The Doctor had more experience with the Demon than he cared for.

    “I… don’t like taking your medications,” Lightning lied, settling back down. They both knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but Torkos was enough of a psychologist to know when not to pry. He decided to change tack.

    “Okay,” Torkos said, his voice softening. “I can’t change the fact that you need to take your prescription. I do want to ask you some questions, however.”

    Lightning’s expression suddenly became suspicious. “Like…?”

    “How about we continue where we left off the last time you were here.”

    Torkos got up and grabbed Lightning’s folder along with a pencil from the counter. The purple dragon was already reading what he’d written three months before as he sat down again. Lightning was not surprised.

    “I believe you were telling me about these ‘Dragon Wars’ when we were so rudely interrupted last time,” Torkos remarked.

    The Demon snickered at “rudely interrupted,” knowing it was nothing of the sort. “They weren’t really called the  Dragon Wars,” Lightning corrected.
    
    “That was just what the grunts used because its historical name was unwieldy.”

    “So I remember you saying,” Torkos replied.

    “Yes…” Lightning paused a moment, staring down at his scarlet claws as if imagining them blood-drenched. “Those were some bad years. Two superpowers with the military capacity to wage war on a global scale. I saw a lot of guys die, most by my own claws.” Lightning took a breath. Torkos waited patiently for his friend to continue. The pencil hovered just off the page.

    “I can’t talk about this,” Lightning said suddenly.

    Torkos set the pencil down, a frown marring his features. “What do you mean?”

    “I guess I just have to show you,” the dragon muttered.

    “Show me?” Torkos asked. Lightning suddenly lunged forward, claws aiming for the Doctor’s temples and his eyes blazed green. Torkos didn’t react fast enough. “Wha-?”


    The metal bulkhead was gunmetal grey, plates riveted or welded together. Not a single scratch marred its surface. Torkos felt intrigued by this. Such clean, polished metal, worked over with so much effort, yet so easily ruined. Be it fire, or wear, or force, it’d ruin just the same, polished or not.

    Torkos was intrigued by a lot of things at that moment. He was intrigued that all he could remember was his conversation with Lightning before being faced with this metal bulkhead. He was intrigued with the familiar sound of a helicopter, rotor blades pounding. Most of all, he was intrigued by the feeling of being encased in a metal suit, as if wearing the armor Zorath only permitted for dimensional jumps. The Council had used those precious few times, and Torkos wondered why he wore one now.

    Dizzy? Torkos heard in the back of his head. It sounded strangely like Lightning, but it didn’t seem like his ears were functioning correctly. Feeling nauseated, tired? Suffering any hallucinations?

    The purple dragon lowered his head from where it’d been propped up against the wall. He was inside of a helicopter, and, to his surprise, on either side of him were dragons in black armor. The edge of the deck loomed just past the dragon on his right, dropping off to the face of oblivion. Torkos could see an entire fleet of aircraft out there, all seemingly filled with dragons just like him. Hundreds of larger Quad dragons flew between the helicopters, some of them larger than the machines they shared the skies with.

    He looked out the other side of the deck, seeing two dragons on his left before the bay opened up. The same formation was out the other side as well.
    
    Torkos looked at the dragon across from him, and found himself staring into two poisonous green eyes through a blackened visor.

    Got a headache? Lightning asked.

    Torkos shook his head with a confused frown. “No.”

    “You say something?” The dragon to Torkos’s right leaned over towards him. The Doctor was unable to see him through the helmet, but it was clear the question was directed to him.

    “No, no,” Torkos was quick to say, hoping the dragon would be able to hear him. “I’m fine.”

    The dragon nodded and returned to staring out at the fleet.

    Did I forget to mention that I’m speaking to you through your mind? Lightning asked, sounding humorous. Torkos took the question as rhetorical.

    You’re right now sitting in Flight 1, Wing-Leader on the way to the enemy held beaches of Rashka. We’re going to be the first ones on the beaches, courtesy of my status as Demon. Lightning lifted an armor encased claw slightly, indicating the dragons around them. This is... well, was, my squad. I trained with every one of them. They’re all dead now, obviously, but they’re the closest people I ever had to the Council.

    Torkos cocked his head, considering he couldn’t speak without drawing unwanted attention, to pose a question.

    Yes, Lightning confirmed. They’re the closest thing I ever had to friends. Lightning glanced around the bay. They were the closest thing I had to friends.

    The helicopter shook in a sudden bout of turbulence. Torkos used it as a reason to avoid Lightning’s eyes, afraid he’d see the anguish there. The Demon may be the most dangerous creature Torkos ever met, but his mental state was another thing entirely. Only on the battlefield was Lightning truly at home, but even there he was with strangers.

    “Flight 1, this is Wing-Leader. We’re ten minutes out from the engagement zone. Ready for anti-air fire."

    A series of, “Roger, Wing-Leader,” chorused through the squad’s helmets. Torkos suddenly wished he was sitting at the edge of the bay next to Lightning, to better see their destination. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, however.

    One more thing, he heard Lightning say. Here, you’re not you. You’re Arik, my squad’s medic. Above you is your rifle. Under you is your kit. Keep them stowed until we hit the ground. An odd piece of advice. Lightning hadn’t said ‘land,’ but ‘hit.’ It could’ve been a choice of words, but Torkos didn’t believe that. And don’t worry about needing to talk with the others, Lightning continued. Arik was a quiet bastard, dragon of few words.

    Torkos snorted. No one seemed to notice.

    “Wing-Leader to Flight 1, we are entering the engagement zone.”

    “Incoming!”

    Dull thuds of artillery reached Torkos’s ears as flak began exploding all around the fleet. Their helicopter rocked in the turbulence, but remained undamaged. Others were not so lucky.

    Lightning’s squad watched as a helicopter took a shell directly to the cockpit and shattered completely. Another received a glancing blow and spiraled down out of view, spurting smoke and fire while the passengers were immolated. A Quad disappeared in a rush of fire and gore.

    “Command to Flights 1 through 5, enemy artillery has been targeted, counter-battery fire away.”

    Torkos glanced at Lightning who seemed to be enjoying the scenario despite the imminence of death at any moment.

    Fireworks, Lightning said in his mind. Two waves.

    Torkos was almost tempted to ask what the dragon meant when he spotted a small dot on the horizon. One dot became three, then ten, a hundred. Dots became missiles. They streaked over the fleet, some going off in the flak that still pounded them, before disappearing from view. A moment later the air reverberated. They had found their targets.

    The incoming battery fire slackened, but not much.

    “You may want to duck,” Lightning said nonchalantly.

    Blinking confusedly at both the request and the tone it was asked in, the Doctor was about to cast a questioning glance Lightning’s way when a helicopter exploded next to theirs as a shell found its target. Torkos was nearly dumped onto the deck as the whole craft rocked. There was a loud screech of metal on metal, a ping, followed by a wet pop.

    Torkos steadied himself and found the dragon on his right slumped in his seat with most of his brains painting the wall. Bits of brain matter were splattered on Torkos’s arm and helmet, some having made it to Lightning’s armor too. Torkos could only stare at the headless corpse in horrid fascination. Behind his head, Torkos found a steaming shard of metal the length of his forearm embedded in the wall. Gore was caked to its surface.

    “Poor Bahadur,” Lightning said, sounding anything but contrite. “We avenged him. Not everyone was so lucky.”

    Sudden hope flared. Torkos might still have a chance to walk out of this madness alive. If Bahadur was avenged, then there could still be a chance that the rest of the squa survived.

    “Bastards,” the dragon to Torkos’s left spat. “Not even ten minutes in and they got him. I’m going to kill every fucking one of them,” he promised.

    Torkos couldn't’ help but agree. “You and me both!”

    “And me!” added the dragon next to Lightning.

    “Same!”

    “Ooh-rah!”

    “Dragons!” Lightning roared, catching all their attentions. He was standing, one claw gripping the handrail above his head, the other holding a deadly looking energy weapon. “Live by fire!”

    “Die by fire!” the squad chorused. Torkos roared with them.

    The air suddenly exploded around them as their ride was hit. Torkos jerked around in his harness as the helicopter began a downward spiral. The pilot screamed, “Mayday! Mayday!” over the radio. Lightning was thrown sideways to crash into the dragon at his side, only his iron-grip keeping him from being thrown out the bay. Torkos grasped the seat and prayed as the world spun outside. G-forces threatened to rip him from his seat.
There was the beaches below them, cast in blurs as the helicopter came down. Torkos couldn’t make out much more than sporadic fires, craters, and concrete amidst the sand and stone before they hit.

    Everything was consumed by noise and motion as the helicopter dug a furrow into the ground, nearly tipping over sideways. The blades snapped upon contact with the hard sand, throwing up a spray of particles. Torkos’s head whiplashed into the bulkhead, blocking the world out with pain.

    Moments later, Torkos opened his eyes again and groggily glanced around. He figured he must’ve blacked out seeing that the rest of the squad were unbuckling from their harnesses. One dragon picked himself up from the floor, his harness having torn in the crash. Lightning was nowhere to be seen. Torkos assumed he’d been thrown out of the bay during the crash because he undoubtedly still lived.

    Torkos hit the release for the harness, allowing the restraining straps to wind back. He reached up and felt the stock of a rifle on his claws before pulling it out. Grabbing the medical kit from between his legs, Torkos shoved past the mutilated body of Bahadur and stumbled out onto the hot, gray sand.

    Hell was there to greet him.

    Mile after mile of trenches, drab bunkers, and tortured landscape stretched out in both directions along the beach. Rocky crags reared up a mile inland where tracers arced over the landscape to pound the aerial fleet over the purple dragon’s head. Explosions blew craters a dozen feet across as rockets streaked overhead. The air was so full of smoke that it choked off visibility of the blue sky.

    The Doctor stumbled a few meters, dumbstruck, as the invasion payed out around him. His gold eyes would not be torn from the spectacle until he slipped and sprawled on his back at the bottom of a crater.

    The fall snapped Torkos out of his stupor, and he rolled over. Sand and dust spilled from his back. One claw closed around the stock of his rifle, the other found the kit. As he made to stand, slinging the medical kit as he did so, a claw grasped his arm and hauled him from the crater with surprising strength.

    “Let’s move Arik!” Lightning ordered, shoving Torkos after the rest of the squad as they powered up the sandy beach towards the nearest bunker complex. “We lead from the front!”

    The sand was hot and gritty beneath their talons. Particles shot out from beneath their feet with every step they took. A bunker built of stone-grey concrete sat like a livid bruise atop the shallow hill. A heavy gun fired up from out of view. The pounding caused the particles to sift with every shot.

    “Take the bunker,” Lightning ordered as the first of the squad crested the hilltop. “Show no mercy!”

    A dragon carrying a large rifle with glowing bands around the barrel reached the bunker first. he wasted no time in raising the rifle and pulling the trigger, sending the blue-edged beams of energy slicing down into the interior. The steady sound of electric discharge built to a pained whine before the plates along the barrel unclamped and hissed with excess heat. Another dragon ran up to the slit and tossed a grenade inside, followed by a bright flash and crump. Smoke issued forth. The dragons ran on.

    Torkos met his first adversary in the courtyard behind the main bunker. The anti-air gun squatted in the center, spitting 88mm death. The dragons ahead of him leapt into the courtyard without hesitation and laid into everything in sight. Bright flashes of light criss-crossed the interior, melting metal and stone wherever it struck.

    The purple dragons stepped onto the lip of the bunker, the battlefield below him. The enemy dragons were clearly marked out in their marble white-grey armor that blended into the surrounding landscape far better than Torkos’s black plates. Instinctively, he raised his gun, a carbine-like weapon that remained unadorned besides a power cell attached to the bottom and a basic ironsight, and pulled the trigger. The carbine created a loud crack-pop as the blue-white laser spat from the barrel and struck a dragon square in the chest, sending it reeling. Torkos didn’t waste time to marvel at the weapon, lest he give the dragon time to recover and emptied another five shots into its torso. It slumped to the ground with its chestplate and flesh mixing into a molten mess.

    “Overkill, don’t you think?” Lightning said into Torkos’s ear before leaping into the courtyard.

    Torkos growled under his breath, surprised that Lightning could joke in the heat of battle. Then again, wasn’t this all just a memory of his, none of it real? He didn’t spend any more time thinking on it and followed Lightning in.

    The Demon didn’t bother with ranged combat in the tight confines of the bunker, eschewing any form of gun entirely to kill up close and personal. His claws were more than enough to carve through the enemy’s armor, and he did this with relish, lashing out at anyone that got too close to the blood-red dragon. Dragons tried to draw a bead, but the Demon moved too fast, cutting apart dragons faster than the eye could follow. He was a blur, nothing more.

    The rest of the squad cut down those on the perimeter of the courtyard, leaving Lightning to handle the greater bulk of resistance. Not for lack of courage, but fear for their own safety. They feared being included in the Demon’s rampage as targets. Lightning was non-discriminatory in the heat of battle, something they knew well. Despite this, they marveled that Arik was willing to follow in the Demon’s wake, blasting apart dragons with bursts to the cranium from his carbine.

    Torkos knew nothing of Lighting’s habits of old, having fought with him after his pacification, not before. Therefore, he was not aware of the potential danger he was in from his own friend, intent only on the marble colored forms that filled his vision.

    He planted a shot into a dragon’s chest, staggering it. Several opened fire on his position, and he tackled the dragon he’d shot, rolling with it to pull it up as a living shield. The body began to melt under sustained fire, and Torkos fired his carbine one handed, slamming two shots into as many dragons before dumping the body and charging into their ranks, unleashing molten death with every step.

    Lightning fought practically beside him, carving great chunks out of his foes with every swipe. The Demon tore a neck open, spinning to smash another dragon to the ground and caving in its skull.

    Lasers slashed at his armor, and he rolled to the side as the ground he vacated was vaporized. Snarling behind his visor, Lighting rushed the offenders on all fours, loping in with fire licking at his heels. Bounding off the wall, Lightning crushed one foe beneath his weight, snapping its neck as it hit the ground. He left the body to backhand a dragon off its feet as it turned, then slamming his fist into its fellows face. He slipped past the dragon’s return to swipe its feet out from under it and smashing its skull into fragments against the concrete.

    The dragon he’d backhanded was thrown bodily into the wall as it tried to regained its feet. He grasped its arm and held it down with a foot before running it through with his claws.

    Lightning grasped the mutilated body in a claw and lifted it above his head, the trophy clear for all to see. The squad responded to their leader, laying down a field of fire and cutting down the last of the marble armored dragons.

    The final body slumped dead in the courtyard. A total of nearly forty-five dragons had been killed by a squad of only seven, none of which were hurt.

    "Set charges on the AA gun," Lightning ordered, having already tossed away the body of his victim. "We'll head for the motor pool, commandeer a pair of vehicles, and make for the front lines." His voice cracked like a whip. "Let's go people!"

    The squad leapt into action, and Torkos had to admire their efficiency. Two dragons stepped forwards with demolition charges and got to work priming the massive, squat gun to blow while the others set up a perimeter. The Doc had no idea what he should be doing, considering he hadn’t trained with these dragons like the person he was inhabiting. The idea was distasteful for him.

    “Lightning!” Torkos called, getting the dragon’s attention. “A word... sir?”

    The Demon nodded and motioned Torkos away from the others. The dragons gave each other stray, questioning glances at Arik’s odd behavior.

    “Problem?” Lightning asked nonchalantly, seemingly ignoring the situation the dragons were in. He didn’t even lower his voice.

    “Yes!” Torkos snapped. “What the hell am I supposed to be doing? You dump me in this and act like I know everything that’s going on. All I can do is follow your orders and pray that I don’t eat a laser in the next five minutes!” He should his head with a disgusted snarl. “It’s frustrating!”

    “Trust me, you’re not going to die in the next five minutes,” Lightning replied calmly. He ignored Torkos’s exhaled growl. “Anyway, all you need to do is make sure the squad is doing okay. Check them for wounds and make sure nobody’s hurt. You’ll have some time to figure things out soon.”

    “Fine,” Torkos growled. He stalked away, already calling for wounded. There were none. That seemed to annoy him even more.

    Lightning put his friends outburst out of his mind. It'll all be over soon.



    The heavy metal slob of a door blew off its hinges with a bang. The breaching charges Lightning’s team had placed were extremely effective, sending a concussive force outwards across the interior of the bunker’s hangar. Marble-armored dragons were caught off guard at the sudden intrusion, and Torkos gave them no time to recover as he smashed one with his fist, the rest of the squad opening fire behind him.

    “Knock-knock,” Torkos rasped, melting a dragon’s chest open with a burst from his carbine.

    “Watch the vehicles!” Lightning snapped, pointing out several armored vehicles, including several personnel carriers and off-road humvees squatting amidst fuel drums and supply crates. Enemy engineers sheltered behind the vehicles’ armor-plating, firing at the squad with an array of laser and accelerated solid-shot weaponry. “We’ll need a pair of those in working order.”

    The Doctor cared less for their rides than the threats hiding in their shadows. he leaped over a handful of metal drums to the back of one of the personnel carriers. The engineer taking shelter there looked up in shock at Torkos’s sudden presence before the purple dragon sent a concentrated beam through its skull, liquefying its brains. He kicked the corpse out of the way and put his back to the truck as bullets pattered against his cover.

    Looking out, Torkos could see that the hangar was now entirely consumed by the firefight. A host of dragons were trying to escape on one of the trucks. Almost a dozen laid down heavy fire while a dragon desperately pushed the hangar doors open to the desiccated wasteland outside.

    They weren’t going to escape Lightning’s onslaught so easily.

    Torkos could see the bloodthirsty dragon sprinting towards the truck while lasers flashed all around him. Someone shot the dragon opening the hangar doors, causing it to crumple into a smoking heap. Torkos added his own fire to the squad’s, but he needn’t bothered as Lightning closed the gap with the offending dragons and leaped onto the truck.

    The Demon turned the firefight into a bloodbath.

    Within seconds the dragons trying to escape were nothing but bloody rags. Lightning’s gore-soaked form stepped down from the bed, looking like death incarnate. Torkos figured he might as well be.

    “Open those doors!” Lightning snapped, sending a dragon on its way to do what its dead predecessor couldn’t. A low grumble filled the cavernous room as the metal doors continued their tortuous grind, allowing the sand-blasted exterior to wash in. A continuous vibration in the floor and dull booms outside told of the continued invasion of the beaches.

    “Wes, Nyota,” Lightning picked out two of his squad. “You’re driving! Grab those two APCs. Everyone else, mount up!”

    Torkos followed Nyota to the first APC and waited a moment as the dragon swung into the cab of the vehicle and started the engine. The vehicle gave a healthy purr and the ramp to the troop bay began to open as the sound of the second APC’s engine turning over filled the room. The Doctor clambered aboard, sitting in one of the nearest crash couches as another dragon stepped past him. Lightning suddenly appeared at the rear, still soaked from head-to-toe in vital fluids.

    “Arik, you’re on the gun,” Lighting ordered, indicating the ladder at the front of the bay.

    “Yes, sir.”

    Torkos unclipped from the crash couch, ascended the ladder and opened the top hatch. A heavy cannon of sorts, mounted on the roof of the APC, provided a full 360 degree coverage around the vehicle. Torkos felt like they’d need the firepower.

    Glancing over, he saw another dragon in place as he was on their sister APC.

    “Everyone on board, sir,” Torkos heard over the squad’s radio.

    “Same here, soldier,” Lightning replied. “Nyota, Wes, get a move on. We’re getting to the front or we’re not getting there at all.”

    The engine roared as the tires bit concrete and launched the APC out into the battlefield. It still looked as Torkos remembered it: a cratered, blasted wasteland of black sand and sporadic artillery fire. Smoke from the squad’s destroyed AA gun curled into the sky behind them as they left the bunker complex behind.

    The purple dragon was jostled like a ragdoll as the APC bounced across the soft sand and uneven terrain. He knew that if the APC went any faster and his armor wasn’t sealed around his neck even a dragon would suffer whiplash. Torkos could only hold onto the cannon’s triggers and pray that nothing happened. For several minutes as they jounced along the beach, that seemed to be the case.

    A shadow passed overhead, causing Torkos to look up. Three dragons were silhouetted against the black sun. They were heading in the same direction as the APCs, keeping pace with the vehicles. Torkos couldn’t tell if they were friend or foe. The backlight on the dragons hid any discernible markings or colors.

    “Lightning,” Torkos said into his helmet, knowing the Demon could hear him. “We got three bogies overhead. Can’t tell if they’re friend or foe.”

    “Nyota, can you see them?” Lightning asked.

    “Aye, sir, barely.” The dragon paused for a moment. “Looks like Leyaks, not our side.”

    “Leyaks?” Torkos asked, pointing the cannon skywards. The dragons were keeping their distance, but that could change in a hurry.

    “Special forces, airborne,” Lightning supplied. “They’re here for me.”

    “They’re out of range,” Torkos said. “Orders... sir?”

    “As soon as they get close, cut ‘em down! I’m calling for backup.”

    The three dragons stayed just above and behind the APCs in the meantime and seemed content to merely follow them. If Lightning was correct, and they were after him, then Torkos hoped that they didn’t know he was actually on board. He prayed they’d leave in search of other prey, but praying hadn’t done them any good so far.

    The Demon’s voice filtered over the radio. “-lower beaches bearing Eastbound in two commandeered enemy APCs. There are three Leyaks directly over our position and we request immediate support. I repeat, we request immediate support, do you copy?”

    “Roger, Red. We have two supp-”

    The three dragons quickly descended upon them at an unheard signal. Torkos blocked out the conversation and did the only thing he could do. “Shit,” he growled and pulled the trigger.

    A thick beam of condensed energy lanced up from the cannon, catching one Leyak full in the chest and causing it to roar in pan. Another slashed up passed a second Leyak’s ear as Torkos’s opposite opened fire. The powerful energy weapons didn’t stop the dragons as they descended upon them.
Torkos fired again, the laser passing underneath the Leyak’s left wing, causing it to swerve, nearly crashing into its fellow.

    “Goddammit!” the purple dragon cursed. “Nyota, keep this fucking thing steady!”

    “Frag you! Why don’t you get up here and drive yourself?”

    The APC’s rough ride did nothing to help Torkos’s aim as he blasted away at the dragons. There was a three-second delay between shots, leaving Torkos hopelessly trying to steady the gun as he rattled around the turret spindle. Every shot needed to count, but Torkos didn’t have that luxury. If any of the Council were there to see it, he would never hear the end of it.

    “Bad news boys!” Lightning called. Torkos snorted at the understatement. “Broadband COMs are compromised. They’re tapping the signals. Squad level COMs only, understood?”

    “Affirmative,” chorused over the radio.

    “Arik, you read?” Torkos hadn’t replied.

    “That explains these assholes, sir!” the purple dragon growled. “They must have heard you calling for support.”

    “My thoughts exactly. Now shut up and shoot!”

    The Leyaks were closer, much closer. Torkos had nailed them a few times with the heavy cannon, but failed to do any appreciable damage. He could see now that all three dragons were as large as the APC, and their scales were a reflective black with blood-colored highlights. Torkos couldn’t tell if the uniformity in scale color was natural or synthetic. Around the base of the dragons’ neck, head, legs, and tail were overlapping armor plates that left the dragons free to move, yet covered any soft spots Torkos could exploit. No expense had been left for these forces.

    That being said, the Leyaks couldn’t get too close without the gunners raking them with concentrated energy beams. Not even their armor could survive a point-blank blast from the APCs.

    “Here comes our support!” Nyota cried.

    Torkos couldn’t turn to look as two more shadows screamed past. Twin fireballs slammed into the Leyaks with the force of a missile blast. They were thrown into momentary confusion long enough for two more large Quads to crash full speed into the Leyaks, shoulders down, teeth barred, sending the lot of them tumbling out of the sky. They landed behind the black dunes, sending up a fine cloud of black dust.

    Torkos lost them from sight, but he was more focused on the remaining Leyak. He could see the confusion in its movements, but a blast from the cannon that seared across the underside of its muzzle brought its thoughts back to its targets.

    Roaring in anger, the Leyak bore down on Torkos without a care for its own defense. The Doctor burned twin holes in its hide before it slammed down on top of him.

    Breath was driven from his lungs. His head was slammed back against the metal. The Leyak was on top of him, desperately flapping its wings in an attempt to remain on the vehicle as Nyota’s crazy driving sprayed black sand across them all. Torkos struggled against the dragon’s claw, but couldn’t unpin his lower half.

    As if reminded that something still squirmed underneath its paw, the Leyak reared its neck back and struck, nearly catching Torkos in its jaws as he twisted away. The dragon pulled back for another strike as Torkos rolled over, revealing his carbine he’d strapped to his back.

    “Chew on this!” Torkos growled, firing up at the dragon’s looming muzzle. The shot was perfect, catching the Leyak in the eye, sending it reeling in pain. It lost its grip on the metal, sliding away until its talons caught on the lip of the troop bay hatch. Flapping madly in an effort to not be thrown on. The Leyak presented a perfect target if it’d hold still.

    “Nyota! Open the hatch! Open it now!” Torkos ordered, not really sure if he had the authority to do so with only a half-formulated plan in mind.

    The dragon listened anyway, and the ramp began to lower, much to the Leyak’s dismay. Lightning seemed to have understood Torkos’s half-assed plan. The hatch was blown completely off the APC by a single breaching charge, sending the Leyak tumbling back into the sand. Its chest cavity was a molten mess from the thermal charge. A host of lasers spat out of the troop bay after the dragon as the soldiers inside opened fire. Torkos steadied himself on the gun and pulled the trigger, the other gunner doing the same.

    One beam hit the Leyak’s ruined torso, burning through the rest of its ribcage and liquidating its lungs and primary arteries. The Leyak collapsed amidst a puddle of gore and did not get up again. The vehicles quickly left it behind.

    The squad heaved a collective sigh of relief. Wes decided to give some good news.

    “Ten minutes to the checkpoint, sir. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see us.”

    “Don’t be so sure,” Lightning growled. Killing the Leyak had done nothing to improve his mood. “Remember, we were sent here to die, soldier. Never forget that!”

    “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

    “Incoming!” Nyota yelled, breaking the moment. “Everybody bail out!”

    Torkos did what his years of experience told him to do. He scrabbled out of the turret onto the roof of the APC, slicing his armor and knee open on a strip of torn metal. The vehicle bounced, sending him flying. He briefly remembered to ball up before he hit the dirt. The impact sent a shock up his arm from where he hit as he tumbled a few feet to stop in a spray of sand.

    The APC exploded a second later. Torkos never saw what hit it, but assumed Nyota had seen an anti-tank missile. It was one of the few things that could send such a huge heat wave rolling across the dunes to blister Torkos’s scales.

    His arm warded the worst of the heat from his face. When he finally lowered it to look, the burning vehicle was slowing to a standstill. The second APC was disappearing over the next dune, piloted by Wes with the rest of the squad in the back.

    They weren’t going to stop and come back. the mission came first, no matter what their feelings were. Torkos couldn’t blame them.

    He glanced around for any nearby targets. An anti-tank missile wasn’t a maneuverable thing. The man-portable launchers were worse than the ones launched by aircraft because the decreased weight to make it portable came from the propulsion system. The really powerful ones anyway. With all that powder, the anti-tank rockets were effectively oversized RPGs. That meant whoever fired the missile was close.

    Torkos couldn’t see anyone nearby. The rocket’s trail had been blown away in the blast, leaving him nothing to follow.

    Glancing back where they’d come from moments before, he could see Lightning and the dragon in the troop bay making their way towards a stunned Nyota. All of them had leapt from the APC as Torkos had, though they didn’t have the trouble he did. The burning in his leg reminded the Doctor that he had an open wound, leaking blood through the slice in his armor. It could wait.

    Every step he took towards his fellow dragons sent a bolt of agony up his spine. he could ignore the pain. The scars all along his body attested to this.
Once Torkos was within a dozen yards of the dragons, Lightning noticed him. The Demon looked up and waved. Except it wasn’t a “hello” or “I’m here” sort of wave. It was the slow, conservative wave of someone saying goodbye.

    Torkos slowed in his march, frowning at his friend. He never heard the shot that killed him.


    “Fuck!” Torkos spat, sitting up so fast his head hurt and taking a heaving breath. He was on the ground in the examination room. A dull throb registered at the back of his head, telling him he’d hit them on something hard. The floor?

    Lightning was sitting in the chair before him, waiting patiently as if Torkos was about to discharge him.

    The Doctor looked back and forth, seeing that the room was exactly as he’d left it. Chest still heaving, the purple dragon picked himself off the floor, eyes still wide in disbelief.

    “What the fuck just happened?” were the first words out of Torkos’s fanged mouth.

    “You just died,” Lightning said simply. “The shock your body’s suffering will wear off in a minute.”

    “So... I was in a memory of yours during the Dragon Wars?” Torkos wasn’t sure he believe it.

    “Correct.” Lightning nodded.

    “So, how did I die?”

    “A random sniper put a bullet in your brain,” Lightning supplied calmly, sounding as if he was commenting about the weather. “You see, my memories work a certain way. They don’t change much, but you somehow managed to escape the blast that destroyed the APC. Therefore, my memory made a rogue sniper put a bullet in you to correct it.”

    “How did you...?” Torkos stopped himself. It didn’t matter how Lightning did it. He knew the Demon had magical potential equal to that of their Supreme Chancellor, Zorath Flamecloak, though it wasn’t so obvious. No, he had a different question.
“How do you remember all that detail? Everything that happened?” Torkos asked.

    Lightning sighed a moment before answering. “It was part of my... creation you could say. I was trained to remember and replay all of my battles to never make the same mistakes I made before. The rest comes from post-battle reports. Those wars still haunt my nightmares.”

    Torkos turned away from his friend, massaging his temples in an attempt to alleviate a growing headache. “As much as I’m interested in all that, I think I’m done for today,” Torkos muttered. “You’re dismissed. I’ll call you in for another examination in a week or so.”

    “Yes, Head Councillor,” Lighting replied, suddenly formal. He stepped out the door without another word, leaving Torkos sitting in his chair with his head in his hands, an endless war replaying in his head.