zzambrosius_02

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Consequences of Folly

Ambros found himself on his back, in some sort of shallow depression in the ground. He could see trees, nearby and in the distance, trees of an unfamiliar sort outlined against a dark cloudy sky. He smelled smoke, and the putrid smell of burning human flesh.

Something expoded, not too far away and his adrenaline spiked: ‘I remember...’

He’d been called away from teaching a lesson at Red Skolo, to help out in Republique Centralafrique, Line Seven: ‘Situation did bite back, like I thought it might.’

He moved his limbs, one by one, and just a bit, to see if he’d been injured: ‘Apparently not.’

Then his memory returned...

“I dropped in on Megálos’ coordinates, but I found only his helm. Before I knew what hit me I was in a firefight, surrounded by three separate forces all bent on slaughtering each other.’

They’d only been shooting at him by accident.

He remembered seeing the shell crater and opting to get out of the line of fire. Then waking up...

He rolled over, and checked his MPS: ‘I’m where I’m supposed to be,’ he thought: ‘But nobody else who’s supposed to be here is.’