Sevens Wild

	Rachel and Jess kept putting off pooling their housing allowances, despite being declared mates for over a year, and thus it was specifically Jess's hut where they found themselves in the calm before the storm. As Staunton's only septet the Saberwing Rangers had considerable allowances. Jess had put all of hers into a standalone hut near the Strip, big enough for two or three mates to share, and filled most of it with a bed both longer and wider than her height. In this quiet moment to themselves, Rachel and Jess lay half-dressed at angles on the bed, their legs intertwined, Rachel's bare skin juxtaposed against Jess's fur, each reading her own book.

	Then the moment was broken by speakers scattered about Staunton. "Saberwing Rangers to the Vestry. Prep to remote deploy."

	Before the message could repeat they were off. It took but a glance to coordinate disentangling their legs. They left their books on Jess's bed and her door unlocked — no stauntonian would steal from a Saberwing. They sprinted without regard for their half-dressed state, for they'd be donning armor in the Vestry. They were needed. A nearby settlement was in distress.



		*	*	*



	"Vaughn Town is a ways away. You'll fly over Traviston. But don't stop to team up with the Shatterstar Slayers, they're going in trucks so you'll beat them there." Ian, the Saberwings's handler, just spoke like that, perhaps because of being a baseline human. "Andersville City is sending two septets from the Steel Angel Regiment. The Darklight Raiders and Nightstone Sirens will join when they can."

	Rachel loosed a breath at this, and needed to hold another while donning and engaging her helmet. If the Victory Vector Corps, Vaughn's own septet, were participating and hadn't been overrun or the like, then the defense force assembling would be a whopping seven septets. The maximum allocation under post-Fall policy. Although everyone knew they'd assemble eight if they needed to, they'd never needed to, for even a convergence of greater bombardiers could be dealt with by fully seven septets.

	"What of the VVs?" It was Max's place to ask, and she was donning her armor from the bottom up besides. Granted, Ian should've simply told them, but he was fond of leaving the bad news for after a "brace yourselves".

	Ian nodded for a moment. "The Victory Vector Corps are retreating for now. Their Conservator is down. The rest are hurt, but their Lector's got that. They're gonna join back in when you can take the lead. Or maybe when Nightstone gets there." Nightstone ran heavy on Ether users, so a Nightstone Conservator and both septets's Lectors could probably keep 13/7 septets in the fight.

	Rachel stepped back into her nook to don her cuisses, for the curved wall would best support her. The armor terminology was archaic, although they generally avoided the need for harness with modern technology. "Ian, just what are they retreating /from/?" Breathing through her red dragon helmet, her voice carried not via the air but via radio, sounding from speakers about the Vestry. And for Rachel, sounding from speakers inside the "dragon horns" ensconcing her long elven ears.

	Ian nodded to her, then sighed. "Brace yourselves. Huge numbers of Fallen. Only three greater. A bombardier, a carver, and another one hanging back. But just… that many. Like a Fallen army. The lesser Fallen got the carver to Vaughn's walls, an emergency bomb crippled it, but it still punched a hole. The heart of Vaugn Town is getting pounded by the bombardier, and the lesser Fallen are going house-to-house."

	Everyone paused. Max even paused with the front of her cuiras over her head, clamshelled onto the back.

	Ash broke the silence with kinetic clicking, ejecting the mag from their calico needler, checking it manually, then slotting it back in.

	"Vaughn's a goner…" Adriana whispered, crystal clear over the radio.

	"Saberwings!" Max's voice held the steel Adriana's was temporarily lacking, and she got a "Ser!" from every other Saberwing in response. "We'll overfly that greater bombardier, burn it down prior to landing. The reserve greater, with its unknown capabilities, gets a wide berth. The greater carver is a target of opportunity, not a priority. Then we'll fan out and insert around Vaughn's medical center. First priority, protect the VVs until they can reinforce. Second priority, keep the Fallen away from what is doubtless a concentration of wounded people. Fallen chrysalises are for mop-up. But coordinate with the Steel Angels with those priorities, no plan survives contact with the enemy. Clear?"

	"Yes ser!" six Saberwings chorused.

	"Flaws?"

	Everyone gave this thought, which culminated in naught but heads shaking and exchanging glances. It was all covered by "no plan survives contact with the enemy". "No ser!" Simon concluded, prompting five Saberwings to chorus "No ser!"

	"Then unless there's anything further…?" Max turned to Ian, who started to nod, but then shook his head. "Let's get dressed and make 'em bleed!"

	"Yes ser!" six Saberwings chorused.

	Vaughn was a goner, this much was true. This action was to make sure Vaughn becomes an empty ruin, rather than a future source of Fallen attacks. But this much they could do.

	Once the septet was each ensconced in their unique armor, Max and Simon led the way through the tunnel towards the launch pad. Rachel and Jess paused with their different helmets together, a gesture of intimacy and camaraderie. Ash, Adriana, and Dougal paused as well, with their different helmets forming a trefoil together. They say every septet eventually unites into a constellation of mates, but that has to be an exaggeration. Dougal and Adriana had tried dating a few years earlier, which failed, albeit not catastrophically. Then last summer Ash came to Staunton as a "sharpshooter", a Perceptor but for lack of a septet, and their old Perceptor Garrett took that as an opportunity to retire. Within months, Ash was dating Adriana and Dougal. But these past few weeks, their affection displays leaned more triad and less V, right down to that trefoil of helmets, rather than Adriana and Dougal sandwiching Ash between them. Perhaps the two were retrying their relationship, now that they're facing each other as metamours across Ash?

	Once they were on the launch pad, they could see and be seen by the crowd still assembling. Time to put on a show. While something of a gimmick, all the Saberwing Rangers could fly in Max's mighty updrafts, on wings. Ash was first, extending the wings they were born with(possibly assisted by their Mist magic), before nodding to Max; Adriana, Simon, and Max herself needed the eponymous sharp-feathered silvery wings, projected by Ether devices in their armor; Rachel invoked her dragon aspect and spread leathery red wings; Jess dipped directly into Shadow for abstract curves of darkness for her wings; Dougal invoked his fey aspect for four wings like a dragonfly. Once Max had six nods she reached into the Mist to stir up the wind, just a breeze at first, then as she completed the weave a sudden gale, yanking them all up into the air by their wings. The cheers of the crowd faded with altitude, and as they began to cover distance. Every Saberwing had to continually adjust with their wings, to stay with Max's updraft, and Max also had to keep the updraft on target.



		*	*	*



	The territory they overflew was blasted. The wildlife was dead, and grasses — ancestral to the grains farmed by settlements — were extinct in the wild. The occasional fey tree survived under the protection of solitary fae. Scattered Fallen stalked the terrain, hiding in the low places of the bare earth. With the help of the fae, Staunton had a bit of farmland in the middle of town here in the Materium, but the bulk of their farms were in Shadow and especially the Mist. A few settlements were experimenting with airponics in the Ethereal Plane, and Staunton stood ready to take up the idea if it bore fruit elsewhere. In the past, farms stood out in the open around settlements, but with the Fallen around that just wasn't safe. They needed walls to defend them long enough for a septet to arrive.

	They overflew Traviston, not exactly but close enough to navigate by. The road to Vaughn Town wound through the hills, but they roughly followed its course as it wove beneath them, and there was only one convoy of trucks headed their way. Doubtless the Shatterstar Slayers and their support crew.

	Approaching Vaughn Town, the nightmare was revealed on the horizon. A few Fallen moved openly over the blasted terrain, stragglers following that imperceptible call, and Max lowered the updraft so Ash could pick them off. But lesser Fallen swarmed around each of the greaters. Ian had compared this to an army, and it sure looked like three military units guarding their artillery pieces. The force of Fallen inside the wall was doubtless more numerous, running amok from house to house, supplementing their number with a second wave of former vaughnites, eclosing from the first chrysalises.

	Closer yet and they could see the Steel Angels. The occasional glint of sunlight drew the eye, and once you knew where to look, you could see the acute-delineated shapes darting and swooping around the greater bombardier. But less occasionally, explosions detonated in the air. Flak. Bombardiers with flakking behavior had been reported from past attacks, but no Saberwing had seen it before now. Each Steel Angel could fly under their own power, in their near-identical armor featuring large wings and booster jets, and even they were having trouble stinging the greater bombardier as they dodged its flak. The Saberwing Rangers, dependent upon a central updraft to fly, couldn't hope to pierce that screen of flak.

	No plan survives contact with the enemy, indeed.

	"Saberwings!" Max opened over the radio, and she got a "Ser!" from every other Saberwing in response. "Leave the bombardier to the Steel Angels." Awfully politic of her. "We're going to come in over the carver, then fan out as planned." A chorus of "Yes ser!" answered, but she'd already begun the arc, away from the reserve greater, giving it and the bombardier a wide berth, narrowing in on the carver.

	Max exchanged votes of confidence with the Steel Angels over public channel 7, and their radios auto-negotiated to assign the Saberwings septet channel 3, but there was precious little to coordinate.

	The carver was a mess. The emergency bomb had gone off just outside the wall, attested by a scattered ring of dead lesser Fallen, and the carver had dragged itself that last distance to cut through the wall with the massive blades that served it as claws. It had probably dragged itself /by/ its blades, since its whole underside was bloody and ragged, with no legs in evidence past the swarm. It sat picking slowly at the opening, widening it infinitesimally, having completed the only job it could do in its mindless crippled state… That is, the only job except calling more Fallen to the site.

	Max brought them in low over the carver, and Ash with their long-ranged needler led the attack. The other six followed their lead with what ranged weapons they had. But it was still moving as they passed it and Ash paused to reload. Five saberwings held their fire to follow suit, but Rachel took a risk.

	With a fresh invocation of her dragon aspect, she folded her wings and plummeted, spear-first. As she gained kinetic energy she gathered it, and at the moment of impact released it, flames in the shadow of a dragon's breath washing out the insides of the carver from where her spear pierced its head. This reaffirmed her dragon aspect, and she stretched her wings to take flight unassisted as the carver's boiling innards painted burns across the uncaring swarm of lesser Fallen. Six Saberwings cheered as Max brought the updraft around to pick Rachel back up.

	Reckless, perhaps, but as Pathfinder it was part of her role.

	Max ascended and dispersed the updraft at an angle. As planned, the Saberwings fanned out, gliding on their wings and their remaining momentum. The now-unmoving greater carver behind them bolstered their morale as they each made their way into town.



		*	*	*



	Rachel flew most directly. As Pathfinder, she would insert on the far side of the medical center. She glid low over the rooves of huts, using the ground effect there to supplement her distance and speed, at the cost of regular glimpses of the horrors below. The larger huts had reinforced walls, and were surrounded by a fresh layer of carnage and intact chrysalises. Doubtless vaughnites had sheltered there during the initial attack, only to fall to the second, comprising the Fallen remains of their neighbors. Fortifications that provided plenty of emotional security but didn't support sallying forth to kill chrysalises before more Fallen could eclose.

	A few Fallen straggled their way through town, and a few more intact chrysalises were scattered between huts. Rachel ached to land and kill both. But with no opportunity to reaffirm, she wouldn't be able to take to the air again. Ash, as Perceptor, was doubtless sniping as they glid, but Rachel had to reserve it for the medical center.

	Which loomed ahead. Vaughn Town had two rings of outlying medical facilities, which would serve so long as the walls held, but the medical center was a two-story keep with a wall-walk atop, a final bulwark for the survivors. Five brattices extended from the wall-walk, each with a tripod gun, and the steady beat of actinic flashes attested to Fallen being cut down just outside the wall. Staunton had six intermediate medical facilities, but every one was fortified, albeit not to this degree.

	Rachel "breached", pulling up as she approached the medical center head-on, trading speed for altitude. She struck a salute pose as she flew overhead. A few medical workers saluted back, as did most in Vaughn guard armor, and one of the wounded. Coming down on the other side, she invoked her dragon aspect and spread red leathery wings, slowing to an impact speed she could handle by soaking the excess energy into a plume of flame that washed over the Fallen briefly surrounding her.

	With a fighting space cleared and her dragon aspect reaffirmed, she laid about with her spear, flitting this way and that to connect with targets on opposite sides of her space. Whoever was crewing the tripod gun focused their fire to Rachel's left, so she swept right. Every dozen Fallen she killed saved the gunner a few seconds of fire.

	She didn't have to wait long ere Max's voice sounded over septet channel 3. "Saberwings!"

	As she fought Rachel joined in a chorus of "Ser!" The others probably had their hands full as well.

	"The VVs are inside, their Lector's still patching them up. Clear the Fallen from around the medical center, then push out between the buildings."

	"Yes Ser!" Rachel and the others chorused.



		*	*	*



	Clearing around the medical center was, in a meaningful sense, the easy part. As Fallen corpses piled up, their sense of easy prey evaporated, and the tide flowed elsewhere. More subtly but more saliently, the battle front was clear.

	Pushing out amid the gentrified buildings, on the other hand, was fraught with the potential for ambush, and was hardly as target-rich. Bulk destruction in Vaughn alleyways accomplished nothing productive. Thus she relied on her spear, not on dramatic strikes of red flames and redder wings.

	Here a family had been cornered. The front door was now a wide breach in the front wall, a back window had been shattered from the inside, and a cluster of chrysalises lay beneath. Two were large enough for adults. The other three were different sizes of small.

	Rachel speared them all in quick succession, that they would bleed out before eclosing. Unfortunately, they merely began to bleed and were thus prompted to eclose early.

	The parents emerged first, more developed, still underdeveloped. They had been ahroun, he a male horse and they a herm wolf. Such a disparate pairing, while within the ahroun species, was unlikely to be particularly fertile, and thus probably some or all of the children had been adopted. Two had been wolves, the third a wolf/horse hybrid unlikely to have been adopted. One of the wolf children struggled to walk, three large sacs on its back ballooning and compressing threateningly, but its mouth thus disgorged naught but mucus and organs. It had been turning into a breather. The male wolf's legs split into pairs at the knees, and his arms were rigid and keratinizing. He had been turning into a carver. The other three had been turning into common biters, dozens of teeth protruding from each mouth, but each as yet soft and skewing randomly about the lips.

	For this, there was plenty of fire.

	Rachel made short work of all five, but the sight of who they had been would haunt her. Fully-formed Fallen didn't hold enough to retain identities. They could be fugu or spartan, elf or ahroun, it vanished into their Fallen form. But these in part were still ahroun, like Jess and Ash, and still held hints of considerable clarity as to who they had been.



		*	*	*



	It was almost anticlimactic to encounter a fully-developed breather. One sac drove forth a toxic cloud, and Rachel leapt for the eaves. Another sac drove forth flames, and Rachel dove through them to sink her hot spear into its torso and then head. But this time, as it gurgled and bled and died, it was the full potential of a wolf ahroun child.



		*	*	*



	When Max`