We didn't have the time or resources to give Tony an adequate send off. We considered consigning him to the river, but it didn't seem dignified, so we just lay him down in one of the abandoned apartments and said a few words to honour his memory. Afterwards, a distraught Sarah stayed with the body, as Dave, Susan and I explored the rest of the complex. To my mild surprise, we did find a couple more survivors whose accommodation was overlooked by the horde. They were eager to trade their supplies for some of the discarded weapons in our tower, and seemed amenable to help bolster our defences.
Most of the apartments I searched contained modest amounts of usable food. Like all student food, it was cheap and imperishable. About half had been occupied until recently, the inhabitants slain in the last wave of the attack. Everywhere I looked, there was another body, felled during bloody combat they had not wanted to partake in. In the distance, towards the centre of the city, I saw several plumes of smoke rising sporadically. Most likely the result of looting. I never ceased to be amazed by the sheer depths of humanity's self-destructive impulses. Even in such dire straits, we still couldn't come together in the name of survival. Perhaps this was why the Doctor hadn't interfered. Despite his almost limitless compassion (I guess two hearts count for something) even he must sometimes look at humanity and turn away in disgust. Shun the extent of our cruelty and malice, wondering why we deserved his help. I couldn't blame him, this was the year Trump was a viable presidential candidate after all.
I glanced across the street towards the row of houses along Western Road. I had friends living in one of these houses, less than five minutes away. Sure that I had the time to spare, I took off to check on them. If they were alive, I could help them, and if not... well, I had to know either way. I arrived at the front door to find it hanging open, the lock had been forced and one of the hinges had snapped. It was a bad sign, but I held out some naive hope regardless. The stench inside was overpowering, even from the driveway. A fetid, decaying odour, that spoke of death. Steeling myself, I entered expecting to find victims of war. What I actually came across was far more unsettling.
I stepped into the hallway and turned left towards the living room. As my feet landed they squelched through the sodden stained brown carpet. The smell was worse here, like rot and iron. Blood. Sitting serenely in various armchairs were my three friends, calm and peaceful as if sleeping off a few pints. Save for the telltale scars along each of their forearms, stained brown by the drying blood that had welled forth from within. These three had decided to claim their own lives rather than be taken by some incomprehensible enemy. I'd like to say I was stoic, that I vowed vengeance, or marked their passing with heartfelt words. No, I just vomited messily in the corner, until all I could do was dry heave, weakly. Eventually, I calmed down, and thought of how much time I'd lost. The Vakarians would return soon, and I had to be ready.
I rejoined Dave and Susan in the courtyard of our complex. Sue seemed anxious and furious at my absence, but she didn't press me for details. She had seen the look in my eye and knew now was not the time for explanations.
"We'd better get inside soon." said Dave. "We've reinforced the barrier and dispersed our spare weapons amongst the other survivors."
"Be my guest." I replied. "But I have to wait here."
"Don't be an idiot!" urged Susan. I think she was concerned that I was about to do something reckless and frankly suicidal. She was half right, it was reckless but I had no intentions on dying today. Too many had perished already.
"I have to attempt a parley." I responded. "Criticise their honour, and I'm sure we can buy some time."
"Madness. Absolute madness!" Dave shouted in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
"Arven." Spoke Sue, seriously. "Are you absolutely sure you know what you're doing?"
I contemplated her words before answering. Of course I wasn't, I was making up a strategy on the fly. But this was the kind of bold move I'd expect of the Doctor. Besides, the alternative was to slowly succumb to a planet wide siege. I'd rather go down swinging.
"Of course!" I responded, with forced charm. "Always!"
"Then, Dave and I will stand with you. If you're going to do something monumentally stupid, you'd best not do it alone."
"Hey!" Exclaimed Dave, protestingly, though he did stand his ground.
After a few minutes, I broke the silence. "So, when do we think....."
With a sharp fizzle, the outlines of several dozen humanoid figures materialized before us. As the noise tapered off, the figures grew more defined and solid. Leading the pack was the Vakarian commander. He saw the three of us, standing defiantly in front of the horde.
"Finally, the humans face us in open combat!" he growled, turning to meet his troops' guttural praise.
"Not quite." I responded. "We're here to parlay."
"No words, only fighting. Words are the weapons of the weak."
"On the contrary, I think words are the weapons of the wise."
"Words are deceitful and dishonest. Skill with a blade is not."
"Only to those without the skill to wield words. Think of it this way. Even the greatest swordsman must fight his opponents one by one. The wordsmith can defeat entire armies at once."
He barked out a disparaging laugh before responding.
"That is your plan? Use your words to make us leave?"
"No." I sighed. "Such a nuanced approach is beyond you lot. You need more direct persuasion."
"So you ARE here to fight?"
"More or less. You see, I realise how deeply you care about honour in your culture. Which is why I'm appalled at your serious lack of honour thus far."
Several of the alien soldiers brandished their weapons and roared in anger at this remark. The commander silenced them, though his face betrayed his disgust and rage for my words.
"A serious allegation." He forced through gritted teeth.
"But not unfounded. You planned this invasion, you were prepared while we were not! You invaded without warning, we were unable to arm ourselves in time. You phased into our homes and slaughtered us without mercy. You removed the weapons and systems with which we are proficient only so we would be forever into your game. This is not glorious combat, this is genocide!" My voice grew louder and bolder with each sentence, as I unloaded 24 hours of grief and fury upon those who had ruined my world.
"Is that the best you can do? The desperate excuses of a race unable to fight for itself? It is you who is without honour. You are pathetic."
"Then you leave me no choice. Commander, I challenge you to a duel of honour! I assume you have duels in your culture?"
"Yes. What are your terms, human?"
"You versus me, to the death. No interference. Winner retains their honour. Plus, if I win, your invasion is halted until I am granted an audience with your leader."
"Very well, I accept your terms. Prepare to meet the true meaning of combat!"
"Ugh. Less of the trashtalk, more swordy. Please."
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