arms. He smiled.
A low-flying plane roared overhead. They ducked and looked outside. Another explosion lit a nearby hill. Another fire raged in a nearby building. The rampage was getting closer. The Caesar began to move away from the window and he roughly moved his hand over his hair. He approached the large conference table and a communications device on it screeched with static and yelling. He picked it up and threw it against the floor. The plastic and metal shattered and the room echoed with the twinkling of its parts across the marble.
Maxentius held his head back and stared at the ceiling. Machine gun fire erupted outside and he shook his head. "There's so much going on." He couldn't turn off the inputs like he could with his robot body. He couldn't disconnect from the Matrix or hide within it to escape. Everything flooded him. He rubbed his eyes and mumbled, "Too much confusion." He leaned forward and braced his arms against the table. After a heavy sigh, he said, "There is no relief."
Ahljaela stood back and watched the emperor dissolve before him. He saw him as he was for the first time in many years. A man. Thon glanced toward the immobile Ares and then took a step toward the Caesar. "I think … we'll leave and let you see the resolution of your bargain."
He looked up from the table and stared at Ahljaela, confused. "Why? Why come here," he motioned toward Thon's attire, "armed and disguised, just to leave me alone."
"I was going to kill you," he answered. "But then I saw you for what you really are."
Caesar almost asked, but he didn't want to know the answer. Thon turned and began to leave. Ares pulled himself from the wall and got ready to walk out, too. Maxentius jogged toward them and spun Ahljaela around. Ares tensed and the emperor asked, "Is there some way out of here?"
"For us, maybe." Thon shrugged and added, "For you … I don't think you can run from this."
The Messenger was stunned. Again, the humans had surprised him. Mercy and pity overrode the anger and revenge this one had felt for years.
Maxentius released Ahljaela and the pair exited the chamber. The door quietly closed behind them and the room was deathly quiet. There were distant, muffled booms and the occasional pops of gunfire. The Caesar closed his eyes and ambled back toward the balcony. After a moment, he opened the doors and walked out.
He glanced down at his suit. It was a fair enough disguise. He might be able to flee. Perhaps not. The sound of hooves on the Square's brick road drew his attention and he looked to the street. Two riders departed the palace walls and rode south. The intruders delayed his escape and unwittingly prevented it. But that was fine. They had given him a gift. Acceptance.
With each blast of wind and the resulting chill that flowed through his body, the Caesar smiled. Tears fell from his eyes and over his cheeks. He stayed on the balcony and thought over his life. He remembered his brother and again thought apologies to him. He thought of his people, the smiling faces of millions who waved and cheered so heartily one hundred years ago at his triumph. They were now out there, clamoring for justice. Maxentius nodded. He had ignored them for too long. His new body growled in hunger. He smiled at the sensation and decided to let it be.
Some time later, he watched the blinking lights of a Cylon bomber high above the city. The gunfire came to a stop. The yelling of the approaching mob ceased. A harsh feeling of foreboding descended on him. He knew it was the end. The emperor wondered if he would feel heat from the device when it detonated, but his body was instantly vaporized in the blast.
Ahljaela and his Psilon companion were far away when that happened. The Messenger remained with them and subtlely guided them away from the encroaching Cylon forces. But the end was still near.
"What do we do?" Thon asked as he wheeled his horse around.
They stared at the glowing cloud far away and Ares said, "We keep riding." Their pace slowed and they headed for a port town. A moment later, he asked, "How do you feel?"
Ahljaela seemed surprised by the question and he said, "What do you mean?"
"You let Caesar live. He's certainly dead now, but you didn't kill him."
Thon nodded. "I feel … good. I feel satisfied. It's hard to explain."
"I think I understand."
The Messenger again regarded Ahljaela with awe and pride. Then the tender was filled with regret. Another bomb was falling. It would strike the nearby town and the duo would be killed. As a last gift to this man who pleased the being so, the Messenger filled his mind with pleasant thoughts and memories and dulled his pain receptors. The flash blinded them, but Thon was not burned. Their horses threw them, but his neck was not broken. A moment later, a blazing shockwave found them and then they were gone.
The Messenger stood and worried. She was surrounded by imminent echoes of fire and destruction. But they had not arrived yet.
"My God," Corol Gaber said. "Please help us. Please help us."
The former soldier lay wrapped in a blanket against the wall of an old house in Tyria. She was surrounded by dozens of other people, soldiers and citizens alike. A year ago, she lost an arm and a leg in a Cylon attack. Her face was scarred and with her one good eye, she stared at the ceiling and prayed.
"Please help us."
The tender wept. For her entire time on this world, she followed the line of the Gaber family. Minah, Nami, Jarrek, Konnar, Jana, Cavim, Berrit, Sulina, Corol. Here it would all end. There was nothing she could do.
An explosion outside caused many of the patients to scream. Cylons fought against the last vestiges of the human military and sprayed them with bullets. Another explosion.
"Please help us."
The being knelt by her side and looked down into her eye. Corol stared through her and skyward. The invisible one held the other's hand and made soothing sounds only she could hear. The woman was not calmed.
"Please help me."
The Messenger stared into her mind and saw only fear. Her memories were of fleeing and fighting. Her faith was present in them all but the being was disgusted at how little her convictions brought her true gains.
"Please."
The Cylons were outside. The patients screamed again as the walls were permeated with bullets. Men fell against the doors and were pulled away by the machines. Three units entered and scanned the room. They spoke wordlessly among themselves and raised their weapons.
"Please."
The being leaned over and whispered, "It is time. You will be at peace."
She betrayed no emotion. She gave no reaction. After a moment, Corol said, "Thank you."
The Cylons quickly aimed and fired small bursts across the room. More than forty people were hit in a few seconds. The Messenger activated Gaber's best memories and released dopamine in her brain. When the three bullets struck her chest, Corol was smiling and she did nothing more than blink in her deaththroes.
The being remained in the empty shack. Forty-two bodies surrounded her. The Cylons had moved on to other places. She looked down and beheld the face of Corol Gaber. Pale and limp, coated with sweat. One cheek was slightly upturned from her last moments alive which were, thankfully, pleasant despite her environs.
The Messenger stood and looked through the roof. A Cylon plane was overhead and it loosed its payload. The tender shook her head and she wept again.
"Futile," she said.
The bomb detonated at the heart of the city and the blast tore the building apart. The fire from her echoes had finally arrived and all was lost.
From that burning landscape, she drifted. For some time, she moved across the land and saw plume after plume of nuclear destruction sprout above cities. Millions, then billions were dying. This world, their mission, was lost.
The Messenger came to a place in the desert, away from the swelling clouds of plasma and flame. It was dry and hot. There was a breeze. The sun was beginning to rise.
She felt weightless. She felt hollow. She felt dead.
For countl
ess ages and on countless worlds, the tender had been placed by The One to shepherd the inhabitants. To foster their survival so that they may choose. Their free will caused their spiritual tree to grow and The One harvested it. This was beyond even the Messengers' understanding, but The One desired it and The One had created them, so it was done. But here, in this plane and on this planet, they failed. The Messenger felt the weight of that loss and took action.
She summoned The One.
"What have you done?" the male tender appeared beside his companion almost instantly and was very agitated.
The female spoke dejectedly, saying, "What must be done. It needs to be told of our failure."
Before the male could respond, The One arrived.
The beings were stunned still by its coming. Light seemed to surround all that they could perceive. A high-pitched hum filled their minds and all their senses became electric. It spoke with its thoughts. Not so much in a language as with communicated ideas.
"Why have you called me?"
The male remained motionless. The female Messenger turned toward the warmest part of the light and began to speak in the manner they reserved for their reports to The One. "Failure. We have failed."
There was the slightest pause. "No. The tree burns but certain shoots have survived. It will grow anew."
"Yes," the male said. "We have managed to preserve a healthy sample of these beings." He turned his focus toward the female and said, almost in a whisper, "The
Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans Page 88
