With a blink of his eyes, he materialised with an audible pop, purple air forcefully displaced by his body in a small shockwave as he appeared in the bridge of the flagship. Almost at the same time, Lilea was on his right, her own teleportation unintentionally theatrical, the gold of her eyes and the blue of from her shoulderpad glowing menacingly from within the purple cloud puffing up around her, dramatically announcing her arrival. The ship’s militaristic silence was broken in an uproar, as occupants of the bridge, doubtlessly high-ranking lieutenants of the Emperor-General Kr’tk’gol, scrambled in alarm. Kr’tk’gol himself was standing at an elevated balcony, overlooking the operations of the bridge. Manuel’s eyes had no trouble seeing in the dim, crimson lighting or the thick, purple air these visitors thrived in. The first thing he noticed, was the organic nature of the ship itself. In the middle of the ceiling, was a streamlined, smooth spine, it’s black bones branching out to ribs, stretching across the ceiling. At the similarly constructed desk closest to the membranous window where the City could be seen, the backs of Kr’tk’gol’s subordinates could be seen, interfaced with the ship, appendages attached to their torsos. Immobile, their single eyes had swiveled around to the back of their dome heads like an image on a curved screen, noticing Manuel and Lilea. A metallic growl rose, coming from a weapon picked up by one of the visitors, turning into a purr that reminded Manuel of motors he has seen and heard from The Archives. He could only imagine the chaos on the other ships. His order, to talk to the visitors was not only for Lilea. It was for all his other siblings. He knew that they would have stepped up and teleported into every other spacecraft out there, one for each ship, or two like Lilea and himself, he did not care. He trusted them to decide for themselves. Today was a day of lessons for them. The father had been silent ever since Manuel had stepped onto the balcony to view the cosmos.
“CEASE!” The General barked. “Are you trying to hurt Gur U’bal?” He raised his numerous arms at the room they were in, referring to the name of the ship. He glared at the intruders. “Apprehend them. Melee only. Hurt my ship, and your bodies will be recycled for material in repairs.”
A soldier rushed at them from behind. It was not a blindspot for any of the People. Manuel studied the clublike weapon it wielded. It was made of far softer materials than his body. Still, he made it a point to show that he cared about his body and would protect it, teleporting to an emptier section of the bridge, still within the General’s sights. The club swung in empty air. Lilea was nowhere to be seen. “Please, we only wish to talk.” An officer, attached to a desk nearby reached out, trying to jab at him with a pointed contraption that hummed as it moved. He stepped out of it’s reach. “Please-” he began again, teleporting as another adversary leaped from the balcony, several bludgeoning weapons in it’s arms, raised above it’s head. They swung down as Manuel vanished, slamming into the floor with a thunderous crunch. The soldier carefully lifted his weapons, groaning at the cracks on the floor. The soldier spun it’s eye to look at his superior, fear written all over his body. The General glared reproachfully, before quickdrawing a sidearm, shooting the culprit with deadly accuracy in the head multiple times until the red from it’s eye and mouth were extinguished. The General glanced at the City. Explosions were still lighting up around it, but the bubble of light held fast. He raised a clenched fist. The fleet stopped firing at once. He knew that Manuel was behind him, the small shockwave of his reappearance blowing his cloak up in a gust. The immortal had not laid hands on any of his attackers despite the relentless assault on both his metropolis, and his person. His sister, was less submissive. By the third time she was forced to teleport, she had retaliated against her next would-be assailant, freezing all 2 tonnes of him in place as he leaped through the air, raising a hand dismissively. A second attacker approached her with a long pike, the blade shattering mid-thrust as she dismissively held her other hand up, a signal to cease. To cease it’s harmless existence. “I will forgive you for the impudence of trespassing, uninvited,” The General mustered with all the dignity he could manage. He knew this was a powerful race of people, but he did not expect them to have been understated by the rumours and myths about them. It was foolish enough of him to launch an attack without more intelligence on the target, but his verbal exchange had been the only method that yielded any semblance of a result. Scanners and Seers could not even detect the City, yet it lay out before them, as real as anything else.
He turned around to face the Steward, preparing to look down at the diminutive being. It was another great effort for him to maintain his composure, as he found the Steward at his eye level, hovering in the air. What couldn’t these beings do?
“This is Lilea,” Manuel said, gesturing at the other immortal who appeared in the air beside him. “The Guardian.” There was a brief silence in the crowded room, childishly awkward as The General gathered himself up. If he had a tongue, he would definitely be licking his lips now. “You wish to speak? Do it quick.”
“Then I shall be quick. Firstly, my siblings have boarded the rest of your fleet. They are being attacked with admirable zeal. But I still need you to call your soldiers off. You cannot hurt them, as you have seen. Some of your soldiers are putting themselves in danger by firing within their cockpits. I can hear them.” The General jerkily waved at one of his subordinates to carry out the order. He kept his eye on Manuel, seething in embarrassment.
“Secondly, leave us be. Your weapons, with all that power, all that might, all those ships under your command, will not affect us.” Manuel glanced at Lilea, her cue to speak, in her specialised field of combat. She raised her head slightly, enough to express her confidence, not enough to project haughty arrogance. “The power of your weapons fluctuate. While they rise and fall, I do sense a fixed pattern of their powers waning with each shot they fire. The resources on your ships are clearly finite, and while they are well-grown, being organic in nature, I can sense fatigue growing in what you may call their bio-fields. Life-force. Calories. I cannot ascertain. As it is, your strength is leaving you even as we speak, albeit at a pace that you cannot sense.”
Her eyes narrowed, her gaze almost condescending. If she could smile, she definitely would be now. It was a warped trait of hers, fostered through millenia of dealing with enemies who were clearly inferior. It had made known to her the sensation of triumph. An emotion that she had obediently poured out into the Archives, but hid from her siblings the fact that it had came from her, knowing that it was a deviant trait, one that would set off a chain of unpleasant consequences. The Father definitely knew the minds of his children, and for some reason he has not deemed it necessary to confront Lilea about it. Yet.
“Your strength will fade with time, ours will not. We are eternal. Cease your meaningless struggle.”