by Hodden, TE
“I,” the machine hissed, in a grating, grinding, voice, “am Legion.”
Matthew stepped forwards to confront the machine. “Then, Legion, I offer you one chance to consider this a mistake, and to leave my world in peace.”
The single red eye pulsed, and ray of pure white light lifted Matthew from his feet, and drove him back against the wall of the bunker. He fought back, pushing his aura out against the ray, with all his strength. It was not enough.
The wall cracked and buckled behind him. The force of the ray overwhelmed his strength. His aura buckled, and the ray ground him into the wall with a sickly, wet, red crunch of pain.
Matthew screamed.
00110
A tense silence fell over the Martian Gallery of the Museum of Humanities.
The men in the silver balaclavas all seemed to speak at once. Their voices were warbling and electronic, inflecting in all the wrong places. “You. Will. All. Back. Against. The. Wall.”
Barney Mitchell took Brandi Summer’s arm, and guided her away from the fallen guard. “I think we better do as they say.”
She glanced at him. “Can you do anything?”
He let his smile flicker. “When I am sure I won’t get anybody hurt.” He pulled her back in the crowd, who were putting their backs to the wall. He spotted the air vent in the wall, and made sure they were as close to it as he could get.
The Four spoke as one again. “Any. Resistance. Will. Be. Terminated.”
Three of them watched the crowd, their rifles held ready. The fourth studied the case that held the staff. He took a device that looked like a hockey puck from his pocket, and held it to the glass. There was a high-pitched whine, that rose in pitch and volume. The sound was like a nail being driven into the skull. It made Barney’s head spin.
There were cries as the audience dropped to their knees, clutching at their heads.
The Four stood resolute.
Summer’s screamed, but it was lost in the banshee cry of the puck.
The lights exploded.
Darkness blurred the edges of Barney’s vision.
“Stop!” Summers shouted. “That is Nano-Weave armoured glass! You will kill us, and yourselves, before you break the glass.”
Barney glanced down at his watch. The small screen displayed the ready icon. At last.
He tapped his headset. “EMP and flash, then join me. Now.”
“Incorrect.” The Four said, in their unified voice. “We. Shall. Not. Be. Harmed.”
One of the other VIPs collapsed to his knees. He shouted something Barney couldn’t hear, over the ice pick being driven into the centre of his head. Over the grinding of his bones.
Barney dropped to his knees. Blood dribbled from his nose.
Something moved behind the grill of the air vent. The Osprey suit.
“Now!” Barney hissed.
The vent exploded into the room as the Suit fired an Electro Magnetic Pulse, with a low, thudding bass note. The room plunged into darkness, and the puck device suddenly fell silent. The security cameras drooped, and the video displays by some of the exhibits went dead.
The pulse seemed to affect the Four, which Barney hadn’t expected. They staggered and slouched off balance, drunkenly.
Barney wasn’t going to waste that chance. He leapt up, and ran at the nearest of the four, even as the suit fluttered out of the air vent and wrapped around him. As the suit made contact, Barney’s head cleared, his pain faded, and a sudden feeling of stamina and strength flowed through his body.
The Osprey systems kicked in, and a neural blaster folded around his right hand. The gun packed a hefty kick, but was non-lethal. It short circuited the nervous system, and put the target on the floor. They would be too busy suffering from vertigo and nausea to do anything.
The nearest of the Four brought up his rifle, and opened fire with a burst of high velocity rounds. They hit Barney in the chest, but the Osprey armour absorbed and redirected their energy. He felt it like a fairly solid punch, but it wasn’t enough to slow him, or stop him. He answered with a bolt from the neural blaster.
The balaclava wearing robber continued to reload its rifle.
Barney crashed into the gunman, and tore the rifle from his grip, and slammed him to the floor. With a flex of his thoughts, he reconfigured the neural blaster to a percussion gun, and fired two bolts each at the remaining three of the Four. The bolts detonated with sounds like the crash of a snare drum, and knocked the Four off their feet, like wrecking balls.
The gunman shoved Barney away, and rose to its feet. It landed a punch on Barney that made stars flash behind his eyes, and his knees buckle.
He answered it with a percussion bolt, that put the gunman to the floor.
“And stay down!” Barney snapped.
The Four dragged groaned as one, and dragged themselves to their feet, reaching for their guns.
“Huh.” Barney grabbed the face of the nearest, and drove it to the floor, pinning it down. “Scan them!”
The Osprey suit scanned the one of the Four he held. There was a dead body under the balaclava, a mummified corpse, dead for centuries, humanoid, but not human, the eyes, the teeth, the number of ribs were all wrong, the skin a blue grey, their veins filled with a soup of nanite robots, instead of blood, or embalming fluid.
Martians. Dead, mummified, martians.
“Okay then,” Barney whispered, flexing his thoughts so the suit reconfigured to a disruptor gun. “Zombie drones. No need for me to hold back.” The scans showed machinery where the corpse once had a heart. “Robots and zombies. No reason to hold back.” He fired a disruptor wave at the pseudo-heart, and scrambled the nanites.
The zombie fell, smoke billowing from the mouth of his balaclava.
Barney marched on the other zombies, his hand held out, coolant venting from the disruptor. He changed his aim as he stepped forwards, drawing a bead on the next of the zombie. A blast of the disruptor, and the zombie’s body went limp. He fell, smoke pouring from his mouth.
Barney refused to think about that gruesome sight, about the nightmares it would be haunting for years to come. He moved on, step and aim, fire. Step and aim. Fire.
The four zombies lay twitching and smoking on the floor.
Barney stood still, and the suit folded away its weapons. “Scan the civilians,” Barney said, “and apply triage protocols. Open a link to the emergency services.”
*
Later, Barney sat on the steps by one of the pillars, and lit a cigarette.
The plaza at the front of the museum was full of police cars, fire engines, and ambulances. About a third of the VIPs were being ferried to hospital, mostly as a precaution, some with hearing damage, and a few with some more troubling injuries.
The woman from the museum, Summers, stepped away from the gaggle of federal agents, and walked over to Barney.
“Do you mind?” She asked, setting herself on the step.
Barney offered her a cigarette from his carton. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Summers sighed. “I took the job here to try and get away from this kind of thing.”
Barney raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She waved it away. “It doesn’t matter. So… how…” She drew a breath. “How do you deal with this kind of thing? When… when it’s all over and the adrenaline stops pounding through your veins?”
Barney looked at her, he took a moment to consider the vulnerability behind her eyes, the doubts behind her thin, confident, smile. “I… am the wrong guy to ask.”
She cocked her head. “But you deal with this stuff every day?”
“Exactly.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette. “I’ve never had to deal with the morning after. Since I put this suit on, my life has been a roller coaster, from one emergency to the next. I never had time to stop and think. Truth be told, the thinking isn’t my talent.” He raised an eyebrow. “But… if you ever work it out, I would love you to let me know the secret. Maybe in a bar? Over a few drinks?”
He softened his tone. “Or, if you ever just need to talk?”
Summers scoffed. “Are you hitting on me?”
“Is it working?”
“No!”
He grinned. “Then of course not.” He took a business card from his pocket. “The offer to talk is real. If you ever need it. It’s the least I can do.”
Summers considered him a long while, before she took the card.
Barney’s communications link beeped. He tapped his earpiece. “Osprey.”
“Barney!” Phoebe said, over the roar of engines. “We have a situation. There’s an alien threat in the Atlantic. We need you in New York as a defensive line.”
“Understood.” Barney tapped off the link, gave Summers a look. “See? It’s a rollercoaster.”
Summers smiled. “Stay safe.”
Barney rose to his feet, and pointed at the card. “Call me?”
Summers laughed. “Hmm. Who knows? Maybe I will. Stranger things have happened.”
00111
In the ocean lair, Matthew fought for his life.
He pushed back against the ray, with all the force of his aura. He pushed it back a few millimetres, barely enough to breathe, barely enough to move. In the split second it bought him he dropped to the floor and rolled under the searing white ray. He drove his boot into the robot’s ankle knocking it off balance.
The robot staggered.
Matthew leapt at it, slamming it into the wall, twisting its head aside.
The robot’s eye flashed, but this time the ray went wild, blasting open the ceiling.
Matthew wrapped his aura around his fists, and drew power from his soul. It was the power of rage, grief, of pure pain and heartbreak. It was a righteous fury. He drove his fists into the robot, denting its armour, buckling the head, and shattering the single red eye.
The robot twisted free, and spun on its cloven feet, swing its four arms into a whirlwind of dervish strikes, that sparked as they ground against Mathew’s aura.
“Interesting,” the robot said, with the voice of the Legion. “You are more resilient than your physiology suggests. Your genes are… adapted.”
Matthew caught one of the wrists and held the robot at bay. “Leave this world! Go in peace, or be destroyed.”
“Tell me,” the Legion said, from the column of light. “Is this the limit of your powers?”
Through the hole in the ceiling, Matthew could see the work platforms, the force-dome and… Ah! A smile spread over Matthew’s lips as he saw the shield generator at the top of the dome. He had a plan.
Matthew took to the air, dragging the robot with him. He gathered his aura, and picked up speed, holding the robot before him as he smashed into the shield generator.
The generator exploded, in a bright blue corona of energy, as bright as the sun. The force of the explosion tore the robot from Matthew’s grip. Matthew let it go, and braced his aura.
The shield collapsed, and the ocean rushed in, smashing the platforms and bunker, flattening under the pressure of the abyss, and scattering them to the desert.
Matthew dropped to the seabed, studying the wreckage. The sphere that created the robot was in pieces, but the column of light still flickered with life.
Matthew tapped his earpiece, synchronising his communications link with the column. “Legion?”
“I am here,” the voice boomed.
“Your robot failed. This world is protected.” Matthew raised a finger. “Leave.”
“Tell me… Praetorian. Is this the limit of your strength?” The Legion’s pattern shifted. “Is this the power with which you hope to hold me at bay?” Its voice grew colder, and harder. “One Avatar, one thread of my awareness is all I will need to sunder your world. The weapons you would hope to turn against me will be mine to turn against you. To cleanse this world of life, and strip it of the mineral wealth to feed my armies! And now… I rise…”
The column of light flickered out. The pattern melted away, like ink in the ocean.
The ground shifted beneath his feet.
Matthew turned.
The robot, the Avatar, was lifting itself free of the wreckage. It broke free, and rocketed upwards, towards the surface.
Matthew groaned. “Well, that can’t be good!”
*
Matthew burst from the ocean and took to the skies. The Manta swooped down, the loading ramp opening like a mouth. He flew aboard, and touched down in the hold. Sopping wet, he sprinted to the flight deck.
Harris and Phoebe were at the controls. There was no sign of Catherine.
“Hey!” He shouted. “Did you see a robot flying this way?”
Harris was at the controls. “Yes. Cathy is on its tail. It’s headed towards New York. She thought it looked like trouble, so she called Barney for back up.”
Matthew nodded. “What about Melisa, or Charlie?”
Phoebe sighed. “We can’t reach them.”
Matthew tapped open a link. “Angel?”
“Matthew,” she answered. The sound of her voice warmed his heart, and renewed his strength, with hope.
“It’s Legion,” Matthew said. “He has a robot, an avatar, it is on its way to New York.”
For a moment Angel just breathed. “What is in New York that can destroy the world?”
Matthew hesitated. “I just assumed that would be the first city he targeted. He downed the air liner to… learn about us. To study the passengers and our technology.”
Angel’s tone was taut with fear, no matter how well she tried to hide it. “It is not his way.”
Harris held up a finger. “Nuclear power plants?”
Matthew shook his head. “He did say he would turn our strengths against us. Maybe he sees that as our power?”
“Perhaps,” Angel agreed, although she sounded unconvinced.
Phoebe sat up. “How did he learn of that from the jet?” She turned her chair, and set to work on a computer console. “I wonder…”
Matthew stroked his chin. “They… put discs on the heads of the passengers.”
Angel whispered: “He was salvaging knowledge from their minds.”
Phoebe hurriedly worked at her computer. “Then we must ask why that jet? Why those passengers? And…” She tapped the screen. “Here. Captain Andrew Murray, United States Navy, Retired. He used to work out of Blackwell Installation, New York.”
“Huh.” Harris looked away. “Why would that matter? It’s just an old storage facility. It hasn’t housed weapons since the seventies, and was closed years ago, because the groundwater was infected with…” He looked at Phoebe. “What?”
“Well…” She pursed her lips. “In my… less honest days I might have done some snooping.”
“And?” Harris asked.
Phoebe gave him a worried look. “Maybe the facility hasn’t held weapons for decades on paper, but the reality is that the bacteria infecting the groundwater comes from bio-chemical weapons too unstable to move.”
Matthew cleared his throat. “And how do you know that?”
“Because…” She smiled. “I sort of blackmailed a few senators with the information.”
“Wonderful,” Matthew sighed. “And what could the Avatar do with those kinds of weapons?”
Angel’s voice was full of heartbreak. “End all life on this world, so he can feed on the mineral wealth and build more Avatars, to spread his influence further.”
Matthew tapped his earpiece. “Catherine. New plan. Get Angel to New York, ahead of him. I’ll meet you there. We don’t let him past the coastline. Understand?”
“Understood,” Catherine and Angel said, together.
Harris gritted his teeth. “I suppose you are going to need somebody to slow him down, and give you all time to muster ranks?”
Matthew looked at the wiry veteran. “You have a plan?”
Harris nodded. “I’m working on something.”
“Good.” Matthew turned towards the hold. “I’ll see you in New York.”
01000
Melisa Williams stepped under the arch, and out into a sprawling circular marketplace, under an alien sky.
The Yeoman put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
Pyramid skyscrapers stood over the marketplace, surrounding it. Their shadows stretched over the cobbles, giving the impression of jagged teeth. A savanna of golden grass protruded between the cobbles, shimmering and swaying in the gentle breeze.
In the centre of the market place, was a stepped platform, above which a formation of crystals, a boulder the size of a family car, clustered in shards and fingers of blood red crystals, hovered, five or six metres up, catching the light on countless barbs and facets. It shone against the dark sky.
Beneath the rock, Charlie -her Charlie- sat crossed legged in meditation. His armour was gone, and he sat in his rough, scruffy, clothes, his eyes closed and his head bowed forwards.
Melisa lifted the gauntlet from her shoulder. “What is he doing?”
“Looking for answers. Ask me a better question.”
Melisa watched. “Is that…”
“The Extinction Stone,” the Yeoman whispered. “Yes. It is all that is left of a weapon that killed every man, woman, and child in this city, on this world. A terrible weapon. It is… spent now.”
Melisa shielded her eyes against the glare. The stone was turning. Slowly, lumberingly, it was rotating in the air. As it spun, Melissa saw the wound in its side. One of the facets of crustal had been torn away, revealing the volcanic rock beneath, at the heart of the stone. “Somebody stole part of it? You said somebody had been here? Misrule?”
The Yeoman nodded. “I can’t tell you who he is, or why. That would be too much of a straight line, and magic…”
“Doesn’t like to move in straight lines. I know.”
“Don’t you just,” the Yeoman chuckled. “Our position here is fragile. I can’t push my luck.” He pointed to the real Charlie. “When he works out how and why that rock might be used, you may stand a chance.” He stepped away from her. “You should go to him. He could get lost there for too long, and you will be missed where you are needed.”
