The Ghost of Queen's Light

Submitted for the Pod and Planet Eve Fiction Contest on October 24, 2016. 

Cover Art by Nomistrav

Date: YC117-10-15
Time: 07:01
The Bleak Lands
Kamela V - 24th Imperial Crusade Logistic Support

Oberyn’s eyelids fluttered with a heavy and ponderous weight as his emerald eyes angrily searched for the source of the ringing alarm that aggravated his already intense migraine. The faint, rhythmic echo sounded from the door across the room in a series of low-toned chimes. With a tired, irritable groan, the slender Khanid man pulled the sheets away from his pale, naked form. Lifting to a stand, he approached the door with ripples of light emanating on the floor tiles under the pressure of his bare feet.  With a languid glance, he saw the reflective eyes of his Syrikos hound, who sat in the darkness beside the door. The faint silhouette of her silent, snarling maw outlined her features.

“Easy, Animus,” He groggily reassured the beast.

Gently massaging the crick in his neck, he stood before the doorway with a slouched posture. With an arduous gesture of his hand over the door’s scanner, he prompted it to open, and with it came a stinging, bright light that caused his eyes to water.  As he shielded his tired eyes with his outstretched hand, a nauseating smell of oil polish washed over him. Casting his blurry gaze upward, he found the taciturn face of the gold-white mass of metal standing before him.

“There is a disturbance that requires your expertise, Uhlan. You will proceed to Medical for deployment,” The man explained in a deep baritone.

With a whistle of his arid nostrils, Oberyn sucked in a breath. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he began to tenderly lap at his cracked lips to wet them. His stomach turned at the faint taste of alcohol that still stained his lips from the night prior. The hungover Khanid loosed a disgruntled groan as the Commodore shifted and lifted the tone and tension in his voice to a booming command.

“A squad of Imperial Marines are already arming and they are in need of a Cyber Knight for this deployment. You will, unfortunately, need to wake yourself up, and transfer to your combat clone. It will be ready for you on-board a Transport inbound for Kamela Eight, and you will be briefed en route. I don’t want to hear any lip from you – not this time. Now, get that beast of yours in motion. You’re both going,” The commodore demanded, pivoting on his heel and walking away with a flare of his cape.

Gazing out at the long corridor as the Commodore took his leave, Oberyn caught a glimpse of the passing ships. Heavily condensed, the multitude of both Capsuleer and Imperial Navy vessels signalled that it was early morning.

“I’ll never get any sleep, you know that?” Oberyn asked the drooling hound, rhetorically. “Not that I need any – a bullet to the head wakes you up pretty quickly, strange as it is. You die, you wake up, you feel unnaturally refreshed.”

Resting her jaw on the top of her paws, Animus slowly closed her yellow eyes in an attempt to drift back into slumber. With a soft nudge to her ribs to jar her awake, Oberyn gave an irritable shake of his head.  The animal silently lifted to a shaky stand and left the room with a spring in its step. To the shock and dissenting complaints of his neighboring station-goers, Oberyn exited his quarters, stark nude. His clothing would be unnecessary for the clone jump.

***

Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 09:19

With a sluggish groan, Oberyn lazily stretched his arms above his head and collapsed back into a human-sized receptacle affixed to the wall. With a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, he lazily surveyed other capsules adjacent to him. Those capsules, which were not empty, housed other loyal mercenaries, each providing a particular service for the Imperial Crusade. The majority of them served as a vanguard, fighting against the perpetual advances of Republic fighters and Matari loyalists, diligently preventing any progress.

A holographic display appeared in front of his eyes that followed his gaze. A swift overview of his mercenary profile began to scroll in an upward motion, outlining both his vices and virtues. While a number of his attributed feats revolved around combat and electronic warfare specializations, there were an equal amount of red-lettered stains on his record. Booster addiction, alcoholism, and solicitation of prostitutes within Amarr space were among the most egregious offenses. A cursory glance over the timing of his iniquity showed a particular trend that only arose after he had become an immortal soldier. His record prior painted him as a pious, loyal, family man, right up until his recruitment by the Royal Uhlans in the Marthia system.

Without the lingering fear of death, the immortal was free to act upon his debauchery to the fullest extent, and did so with unrestrained glee.

A flash of movement startled Oberyn, refocusing his attention on a neural scanner mounted to a hydraulic armature that lowered in front of his face. The device began to give his facial features a perfunctory scan with a glowing, golden light, and emitted a loud, rhythmic banging sound. He sucked in a breath and scrunched his features, to which the device protested with a single klaxon alarm.

“Alright, I’m so-” Oberyn attempted.

“DDNNNT” The device responded.

“Would you giv-”

“DDNNNT”

Rubbing at the dull throbbing of his head with a grimace, Oberyn conceded defeat. Holding perfectly still, Oberyn held his breath and permitted the device to attempt another dreadful scan of his skull. Completing its scan, the device emitted a cutesy chime of satisfaction. In an instantaneous collage of blinding light, he exited his cosmetic clone and jumped inside a new body. His migraine and nausea had abruptly disappeared. Pins and needles rocketed across his limbs as the nerves heralded the arrival of his consciousness in the virgin mold of biomass and its dropsuit shell.

As he patiently waited for the dropsuits systems to boot, Oberyn gave an annoyed, raspy exhalation that echoed from the external speakers of his helmet in a sinister, ragged crackling of static. The dim blue lights of his helmet sprang to life as the interior screens of his helmet faded in, displaying the hold of an Imperial transport ship. Uniformly decorating the inside of the hold were several rows of seated Imperial Marines, who stared at him with mixed expressions. A younger woman looked over Oberyn with short, nervous glances, unaware that he focused on her breasts during the brief exchange.  

Concealed by the traditional dark colors of the Khanid Kingdom, his combat clone was a both a beautiful marvel and menacing monstrosity of war. In his new state, he bore little resemblance to himself, with the pale, veiny flesh of the blank clone lacking any distinguishing features.  The dropsuit was grafted to his body, particularly the metal spine, such that it could operate in synergy with his central nervous system. The organic parts of his clone that were unnecessary for function were removed and replaced with alloy and synthetic materials, giving the clone and its armor a similar mass to that of a small vehicle.

The clone soldier leaned against the interior wall of the troop transport with a dull, metallic thump. To Oberyn’s immediate flank was Animus, who stood shoulder-height to the mortal Marines. Giving a calculated stoke across the animal’s back, Obery proudly cooed, finding delight in her mere presence. In response, Animus began to brush against the metal of his legs affectionately.

“I’ve never seen a Slaver that large,” The staring woman said, nervously.

“My division’s private stock,” Oberyn explained in a matter-of-factly drawl through the static of his helmet.

“Why are its claws removed?” Asked a marine.

“What’s the cut on its neck?” Another added.

“We remove the vocal cords and claws so they don’t make any sounds when they’re running or attacking,” Oberyn stated, proudly.

The Marines took uneasy, hurried glimpses at Animus, shaken by their own fascination of the beast’s alleged guile. By contrast, the slaver hound was wholly disinterested in any of them. Transfixed on Oberyn’s armored form, the panting beast dribbled long trails of frothy saliva from her maw. A discordant, reverberating whistle emanated from Oberyn’s helmet as he turned to meet the hound’s gaze, to which her ears perked. Taking on a sentinel’s vigilance, the hound seated herself beside him.

With a hissing shift in the fuselage airlock, a Templar Lieutenant presented himself from the cockpit. Bracing himself against either side of the airlock doorway, he briefly cast his gaze over the squad of Marines before him. Giving an informal regard for Oberyn and Animus, he relayed the mission parameters.

“Several hours ago we lost contact with Queen’s Light, a small port-city on Kamela Eight, and another city on Kamela Three. We’re being deployed there while another team investigates the situation on Kamela Three. Early orbital surveillance shows signs of electronic disruption; around the city is a thirty kilometer radius bubble of interference that’s prohibiting us from getting significant intel,” The Lieutenant explained.

“I suppose that’s why I’m being dragged along,” Oberyn mocked, with a faint, static-laden chortle.

“That’s correct. Whatever is down there is strong enough to knock out our TacNet relays, which is well outside of our norm. Early theories are that it is a Matari raiding party, probably Krusual Cov Ops since they’ve got a reputation for guerilla tactics, but we’ve never seen anything of this magnitude before.

“We’ll be landing outside of the sphere of interference, inform the Fleet of our progress, and then proceed to the city. Bear in mind, that we’re not intent on fighting. We’ll reconnaissance the area, re-establish TacNet, and then hold out for reinforcements. Arrival is in fifteen, give or take, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

The remainder of the flight was spent in relative silence with the hum of the transport’s thrusters filling the anxious air. Keeping to himself, Oberyn was enraptured in a deep, foreboding concern.  

***

Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 20:27
Kamela VIII
7km from Queen’s Light

Descending into the atmosphere of the region, it was immediately clear to the reconnaissance force that the city was razed. In its expansive growth, the city held a total area of close to 120 kilometers, expanding in all directions away from the ocean to the west. Surrounding the suburban landscape were dense, snowy, evergreen forests in the painful cold of the northern hemisphere. The ocean’s waves gleamed with the mirrored light of the perpetually setting autumn sun reflecting on the icy outcrops, contrasting harshly against the black haze that loomed over the city’s central area. It was apparent, from the smoking rubble, that the city cathedral had been destroyed, utterly and totally, with obvious spite.

The transport quietly settled in a nestled clearing within the surrounding forest just outside of the zone of interference. The thrusters of the ship caused the trees to whip about in dismay. Soon after, the squad of Marines escorted the lumbering Cyber Knight out of the interior hold and out into the forest. The transport lifted off as quickly as it landed and returned to orbit with a low boom of its afterburners, leaving the squad to its mission.

“We’ll approach from the south, through the forest on the outskirts of the city. Remember, TacNet is unavailable, so restrict your communications to hand gestures if you can help it,” The Templar Lieutenant commanded to his squad.

“Uhlan, we’ll get you as close to the source of the interference as possible,” The Lieutenant continued as he shouldered his rifle, gesturing to a marine to lead them.

Set in a loose column, the Marines escorted the Cyber Knight with their weapons at the ready. Taking a moment to smell everything she crossed despite her swift stride, Animus clung to the trees. Even despite her erratic movement, Oberyn kept a keen watch on her to ensure she never left the vicinity. The Khanid lifted his plated arm, looking over his Neocom, which flickered and increased it its instability as they ventured further into the forest.

“I thought Cyber Knights worked magic with electronics?” A curious marine inquired.

“We do, but my Neocom operates on TacNet, same as your comms. I don’t imagine it’ll be much help once we get to the city,” Oberyn replied, turning the device off.

Lifting his gaze to check on Animus, Oberyn noted that she had become overzealous, and in her haste, she had become a faint blur of movement in the falling snow and fog. She rushed toward the city ahead of the squad in bounding leaps. The Uhlan emitted a loud, off-key whistle. In an instant, the hound bounded off of her front legs, sprinting back to him. As she neared, she circled silently around his legs, and stuck to him like glue for the duration of their approach.

***

Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 21:31
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light

Flecks of ash and soot fell from the skies around the squad, intermingling with the snow. As the soldiers moved northward through the city streets, along the waterfront, thick plumes of black smoke lifted from the city itself. In tandem with the gently blowing wind, the clouds of ash moved east to west over the water. Sparks, embers, and debris fell from the burning buildings in showers, and rubble caked the concrete jungle. Across the entirety of the city were wrecked vehicles and signs of significant struggle; the walls riddled with bullet holes and laser burns. Disturbingly, despite all of the detritus, there were few blood stains, and no bodies.

The Khanid mercenary cursed under his breath, disbelieving the notion that the Republic’s shock troops could perform that sort of carnage. While the Matari had a reputation for brutality on the battlefield, he knew better just from experience. The fact that there were no bodies had been a sign of something far more sinister than the Matari or their paid guns. Just as well, the Matari depended on TacNet as much as the Empire did, even if they used their own form of it. The evidence presented caused the Uhlan to lose his nerve, finding a semblance of solace in the fact that none of the Marines around him could see his increasing anxiety beneath his dropsuit.

“This wasn’t the Republic. Not with their scorched earth tactics and the fact they eat ammunition like it’s candy,” He reasoned through the echo of his helmet.

In unison, the soldiers stopped and turned toward Oberyn with unanimous concern. Lifting his rifle and resting it against his pauldron, he canted his head slightly. Gazing out at the dark, icy water through the white-blue, low-light optics, he noticed that his heads-up display struggled to stay alive. The suit’s systems were attempting to reboot themselves repeatedly, desperately attempting to cut through the interference. Despite being a Cyber Knight, there was little he could do about the interference remotely.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, he fended off the authentic possibility that if he died in the city, that he wouldn’t come back. If he died, his next clone would use the most recent data available - the data received just before he entered the city. A terrible prospect dawned on him: It wouldn’t be his consciousness, but a copy of it, and that made him increasingly worried.  

“So, what’re you thinking it was then? Ghosts?” The Lieutenant asked, sarcastically, holding his rifle close to his chest.

“If it were, we’d at least save ammo,” Oberyn explained with insincere bravado.

Pivoting on his heel, Oberyn sounded off the high-frequency pattern that Animus was attuned to. The animal’s enormous ears twitched and she immediately began to walk in stride with him. With his free hand, he gave the animal a soft scratch behind the ears, and with a feigned conviction in his steps, he soldiered deeper into the city.

“We’ll need to physically access or destroy the jammer, if it’s this powerful, this far away.”

***

Date: YC117-10-17
Time: 02:12
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light - City Plaza

Crawling low along the snow-laden rooftop with a trained effort, Oberyn and the squad of Marines reached the roof’s edge and scanned the city plaza below. In a quiet shuffle, Animus crawled alongside Oberyn, looking over the building’s balcony with her ears lifted high above her head. The flash of blue-white light from the inside of Oberyn’s helmet illuminated the landscape in a low-light enhancement of his optical lenses. Scanning over the plaza about half a kilometer away, Oberyn could see far more clearly than any his companions.

To the east of the squared plaza was the smoking ruins of the once large city cathedral. In front of the steps leading up to the cathedral, overlooking the waterfront, was a three-tiered, frozen over fountain, now covered in ash. Along the waterfront, at the western edge of the plaza, was a cluster of ivory-colored dropships that were stained with crimson splotches. Moving between the transports were numerous individuals, weighed down by crimson and ivory robes and light armor. Loading numerous large, capsule-like containers onto the ships, the laborers appeared content with their newfound bounty. Several of the capsules were set upright in the proximity of the transports, connected to their respective drop ship hosts with a series of large, glistening, crimson tubes.

Situated atop of one of the transports was a large, tower-like beacon with several rotating panels at its top. The distortion of heat waves rising from the panels was clearly visible in Oberyn’s low-light vision.

“I suppose that would be our jammer.” Oberyn stated before continuing his surveillance.

In front of the cluster of dropships, nearing the fountain, were a small group of individuals that stood out from the rest. Among them were three whose facial features were distinctly visible. Groaning, Oberyn tried to shift his rifle in an awkward fashion, aiming it at the fountain’s lower basin.  He squeezed the under-barrel trigger gently, firing an audio probe from the attachment on his rifle.  The device buried into the basin’s wall and a moment later began to receive a point-to-point, high-gain signal that allowed him to listen in on the conversation through the jammer’s interference.

"-en they're done being drained, the capsules will automatically biomass the remains," Explained a pitched, female voice.

Adjusting the rifle’s scope once more, Oberyn attempted to see which of the individuals was speaking: A blonde, bob-cut woman with droopy eyes, clad in a bloodstained dropsuit. Without a connection to TacNet, he couldn't confirm his suspicions, but he strongly suspected the woman to be Tairei Namazoth, Senior Tactical Commander of the Blood Raider Covenant.

"The biomass will then be loaded onto the dropships and taken back to our ships in orbit, where they will be transported to your facilities," Tairei explained.

"I assume that we can begin production immediately?" Another woman explained, glancing between Tairei and a hooded man.

Oberyn recognized both the other woman and the hooded man from memory of a Khanid Kingdom wanted list. Hazli Tamarom, a security official, and Odrus Yakari, a distribution agent — both known individuals who operated a Blood Raider testing facility deep within Delve.

"Yes. They'll be expected to contribute to the harvest, but they'll be ready for combat as well," Odrus explained.

"Good. It'll prove to be an important insight into the technology. Our losses will be quelled, the donor blood pure, and the impact severe. You're ready to mass produce my armor?" Tairei asked, gesturing over her bloodstained suit with a devious grin.

"The Crimson Paladins will field only the best," Odrus replied, sincerely. "Erm, what should we call this model?" Hazli asked.

"Tairei's Crimson," Namazoth responded, dutifully.

It was only then that Oberyn fully realized what was surrounding the conversing group. Each of the bloodstained Paladins was clad in armor reminiscent of the standard issue Amarr light frame dropsuit, notably distinct from the lightly armored Raiders. Coincidentally, the Paladins wore the same model of dropsuit he was wearing, albeit with a more sinister look. Releasing a heavy, defeated sigh, Oberyn put all of the puzzle pieces together as the crippling realization dawned on him: The Covenant were preparing to field infantry clones.

"They’re biomassing the population," Oberyn explained to the squad that accompanied him.

"Why would they biomass them?" The Lieutenant inquired.

"Eh, well — Crimson Paladins got an upgrade. Only a few of them are in dropsuits though, rest of the Raiders aren’t as heavily armed, so that’s advantageous," The Cyber Knight explained with a grim tone.

The squad began to shift with a slight tinge of anxiety. While each Imperial was ready to give their life for the empire, few were willing to do so in vain, and with the Uhlan's brief explanation of his theory, the prospects for anything short of martyrdom were slim. However, the presence of the immortal Khanid bolstered their confidence to ill-founded extremes, unaware of his apathy toward them.

"We can't contact the Crusade while they have that jammer online. We can either assault the Raiders, disable the jammer, and get a transmission to the Crusade, or we can foot it back to rendezvous and wait for the dropship," Oberyn explained.

"We’d have to hike back to the dropzone and call for evac. It’d take hours." A marine barked in retort.

"Then I guess our answer is pretty clear, yeah?" Oberyn chimed, lifting to a stand.

***

Date: YC117-10-17
Time: 02:27
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light - City Plaza

Igniting Animus’ commanding, off-key whistle, Oberyn stared at a lone Crimson Paladin through the view-screen of his helmet. In a flash, Animus began sprinting with only the faint patter of her de-clawed paws rushing along the ash-flooded ground. In an instant, the Paladin was tackled, and the hound clamped down on his throat like a vice grip, allowing his blood to pour like an open faucet. A blood pool quickly began to form as the Paladin struggled against the animal. Now missing his vocal cords, the silence was only broken by the soft scraping of limbs against the ground.

Pushing forward and converging inward on the city plaza, the squad of Imperial Marines made short work of the Raiders and Paladins, who were caught off-guard. Having ambushed the Covenant forces with lightning speed and efficiency, they overwhelmed the Raiders in their sudden advance. As they closed the distance, the Marines began to fall into defensive positions, guarding Oberyn against the inevitable counter-attack as he raced toward the TacNet Jammer. Leaping up the side of the transport the device was anchored to with a heavy thud of his armor, he quickly set to work.

Through the flurry of laser and small arms fire, Oberyn connected his Neocom to the jammer, hastily bypassing the safeguards in an effort to disable the device. The security on the jammer was trivial, and well within his expertise, but he still worked feverishly to make the most of the Marines' suicide mission. As the Marines began to lose ground, he quickly converted the jammer into a transmission beacon to dispatch a distress signal across any frequency he could think of. Having restored the TacNet signal, and the warning to the Fleet dispatched, the survival of his combat clone was no longer a concern, to which Oberyn gave a mischievous grin.

Atop the Raiders’ dropship, he lifted his rifle and returned fire at the advancing Raiders and Paladins. Keenly aware that the Marines were quickly dwindling in number, he knew that they would not last. Having achieved their goal, he was ultimately unconcerned with their lives, and focused his attention on Animus. Through his blue-white optics he could see that the she had huddled behind the fountain’s basin, desperately trying to avoid the incoming projectiles. Lowering his weapon to his side, Oberyn sounded off the authoritative screech of her routing command.

Animus had only ever heard the command once, but she was trained to recognize it as a retreat. The hound rolled out of cover and sprinted toward him as the last of the Marines fell dead around her. In the fray and confusion, she ran right into a dropsuit-clad Paladin’s arms, and was thrown to the ground with a sickening crunch that fractured her shoulder-blade. Seeing his companion silently writhe in pain, Oberyn panicked, and slid down the side of the transport ship in a desperate attempt to reach her.

As he ran toward the Raider who began to crack the hound’s head with the butt of his rifle, Oberyn was intercepted by another Paladin with a savage bodyslam. The Paladin pinned him to the ground with its heavy boot, throwing his weapon out of reach as several Raiders rushed to assist, using their additional weight to render him immobile.

Apprehended by several of his assailants, Oberyn was lifted to his knees as a presentation to the armored woman who approached through the haze of smoke and ash. Oberyn lifted his gaze toward the blonde, bob-cut woman with an unseen hatred in his eyes. By contrast, the woman approached Oberyn with a calm, tactical demeanor, but never lost the distant, uncaring look in her eyes. Kneeling down in front of him, she stared directly into his visor with a dim curiosity, mixed with disdain.

“Tairei, good to finally meet you,” Oberyn coughed in futile derision.

“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble now, mercenary. You have disabled my jammer, and we heard your little cry for help. This was supposed to be a covert operation and you’ve dismantled my plan.” Tairei explained with a bitter distaste in her voice.

“What can I say, I couldn’t let a bitch like you bleed the place dry without a little resistance,” Oberyn spat, mockingly.

The woman clasped her hands together, resting her chin against her thumbs. Oberyn weakly struggled against his captors, yanking his arms against their iron grasp. Despite his dissent, his captors overpowered him by volumes, trapping him.

"Normally, I'm not one to take captives. On the other hand, I never expected the Crusade to send clones. Not for a little reconnaissance, at least. Then again, the Khanid were always the brawn of the operation, weren’t they?" She challenged.

Shaking her head in joyful disbelief, Tairei gave the faintest of smiles. Lifting to a stand, she gestured toward Animus with a blasé wave of her hand.

"Kill the hound," She demanded.

"No! No, wait! Please, God, no, don't kill her!" Oberyn protested, the light static of his helmet accentuating the panic in his voice.

A Paladin stepped closer to the wounded and immobile slaver hound, igniting her in a bath of light. Pulses of his laser rifle cooked her flesh and dissolved the fatty tissue. The smell of burnt fur filled the air as a cloud of thick black smoke lifted from her form. Her flesh slipped from her form in a gelatinous puddle as she silently writhed and quivered in pain, unable to voice her agony.

Briefly escaping the grasp of his captors in his rage, Oberyn gave a terrible howl of anguish. Barely held back by the bloodstained Paladin and Raiders, he struggled with animalistic ferocity. In the struggle, he managed to pry a weapon from one of them, and thrusted the barrel upward into the Paladin’s jaw, yanking on the trigger with a vengeful snarl. The Paladin's head exploded instantly and its body rolled to the ground, twitching as the remnant nerves fired.

The Uhlan felt a solid kick to his helmet, causing a dizzying array of rainbow spots to cloud his vision. Despite his daze, he saw another Paladin walk off the ramp of a nearby dropship mere seconds later and immediately knew that it was the one he had just killed. With the confirmation of the immortal Paladin's rebirth, Oberyn knew they had access to Mobile Clone Reserves; that his struggle was unavailing.

"A clone’s blood is pure, mercenary,” Tairei barked, emphatically.

The Crimson Paladin approached with newfound purpose, placing the sharp of its blade against Oberyn's neck and dug in deep, cutting across his pale flesh through the synthetic material of his mantle. The blade pierced with a surgeon's precision, grazing along the artery and splitting it. The Paladin took careful consideration not to cut his throat, and thus Oberyn was conscious for the duration of his slow, fading death. Soon after his consciousness drifted away, he awoke again, suddenly, and disoriented.

In his new, naked body, he looked up, and saw his previous, armored form being prepared for a harvest of its blood. Long, hooked, sucking tubes were punched into his arteries by the Raiders, and at the base of his gashed neck, they held a container, collecting his trickling blood. Before he could react, several other Raiders apprehended him, kicking and buckling his knees to force him to the ground. His panicked, confused, and tear-filled eyes then met with Tairei, who bellowed a deranged laugh, and clapped her hands together in a giddy dance, pleased with the terror on display. In an instant, she fell beside Oberyn and grasped his head in her hands, preventing him from looking away from the exsanguination of his own body. She spoke with emphasis on her words, speaking quickly, and with a maddening grin that accompanied her wide, crazed eyes.

“We’re going to kill you again, back home. And when you wake up, we're going to bleed you again. And again. And again. You will never stop bleeding for us. All these people you were trying to save, and all of these Marines? They're going to fuel each and every one of your clones, little Ghost."

For the first time in his life as an immortal, Oberyn was terrified.