by Ran Vant
**
Jack studied the doorway from one knee. He had hit him, alright, of that he was sure. The brief cloud of red mist and the blood droplets on the wall confirmed it. But the assassin had turned at the last minute, and Jack wasn't sure he got him in the chest where the flechettes would ensure a quick death. So Jack stayed on one knee, watching the doorway. His heart pounded in his chest. Had he been too late? Was Maren already dead in her room? What if he had run faster? What if he wouldn't have stopped to talk with the lab technician? What if...
Maren rounded the corner. Jack was on one end of the hallway, Maren on the other, the assassin in her room in between.
Jack stood and waved his arms, trying not to say anything, trying not to give the assassin any information if he happened to still be alive.
“Jack!” she greeted him, not able to quickly read the concern on his face down the hall.
Greylox heard it in the room, and knew who it had to be. And he knew it came from the opposite direction from which the shot came, as his shredded shoulder attested.
“Run! In the other direction!” Jack yelled.
It took a moment for it to register in Maren's mind.
“They're trying to kill you! Run away!” Jack yelled. “Keep running away from here! Don't stop!”
Maren heard the terror in Jack's voice, and she turned and ran.
Greylox, of course, heard it all. He was bleeding. They knew where he was. There was no way out other than through the door. His situation was not going to improve with time. And she had to be killed.
He leaned out the door and fired rapidly at Jack. It was enough to drive Jack back around the corner temporarily, having been distracted from careful aim on the doorway by Maren. But it was only temporary: Jack leaned low around the corner and fired two more flechette rounds in quick succession. Part of both rounds hit Greylox in the lower back and upper leg, but then the assassin was gone around the corner – after Maren.
Jack was already sprinting after. He would do everything possible to save Maren, even if it meant dying. He ran faster than he thought he could down the hall. But when he rounded the corner, he had not expected to see the barrel of a ballistic slinger and the assassin tight against the wall. Jack didn't have time to react before he fell to the ground, dead.
Greylox spit on the ground. Greylox had been in the business a long time, and no one else had managed to shoot him three times. He hated that man, Jack. But in a way, he grudgingly acknowledged Jack had heart.
Greylox turned and limped after Maren, trailing blood all the way.
**
Maren ran a short distance before she heard the shot. It was not the sound of Jack's side arm, but of a conventional lead slinger. She listened intently, but did not hear any additional shots. She wanted to go back, to somehow see if she could help Jack, but instead she listened to the urgency that had been in Jack's voice commanding her to flee. She didn't know who wanted to kill her. She didn't know how many hunted her. All she knew is that Jack had said to run and to not stop. And so she ran for her life.
110.
One Left
Michael did not understand. The Ancient stood before him. The Ancient said it was all part of the plan. But what was happening was the destruction of the fortresses, the destruction of the Guardians, an assault on the gens themselves. “Why would you destroy that which protects you?” Michael asked.
“The time for that has passed. The Event is at hand.”
“How can this all be part of your plan to destroy the truds?”
“The Event means the end of us having to deal with the truds, not the end of them. They have long feared we would take the earth from them. But my plan ensures the contrary. We will leave the world to them. The meek shall inherit the earth, but the rest of the universe belongs to us.”
“Why is this death and destruction necessary if the Ancients only plan to leave?” Lightbringer asked.
“It doesn’t really even make sense to call us 'Ancients,' as if we were just really old versions of what we were before. The truds have the idea that we are all like the gens that they forced out of the east. It would be nearly impossible for them to understand us now, our ways of thinking, our struggles among each other, the conflict within ourselves,” the man said.
He continued. “We are not one in thought, word, or deed. And so my true battle, my true subterfuge, has not been with and among the truds, but among the modifieds, the gens, and those that came after. I needed enough of them to believe that the truds are still dangerous, enough to sway the vote, enough to cause us finally to leave where we have tarried too long. And so the destruction unfolds.”
“What will happen to Magritte?” Michael asked.
“Magritte and the other fortresses will be allowed to be destroyed. It is necessary for me to succeed in convincing the others. We’ll let the truds think they’ve won. They will figure it out eventually, of course. In the meantime, perhaps hundreds of years, however, they won’t waste any of their energy trying to come after us.”
“You will allow those who served you so loyally to be destroyed?”
“No, Michael. Rex, the Guardians, all will be restored on a new world. They won't even remember the end of Magritte-”
“But I want to remember.”
“You want to remember? Tell me more.”
“I am not the same Michael Lightbringer that slipped beneath the waves. Why should I be any different than you? You try to preserve what you once were and what you have become. Why shouldn’t I? ”
“My dear Michael, if some of us could forget parts of our past, we would. Some have. Some of us can’t.”
“But I am a Guardian of the West. I have sworn to protect you. Always. If I am no longer needed to protect you, then what I am now?”
“What you will make for yourself, in a new place, a new time. Everything will be made new.”
“No.”
The Ancient stood before Michael in silence.
“The other Michael, the one restored after I was fallen... he is me as I once was. But now I am no longer him, and he is not me. We are different. And I don't want to forget. Let the other one awake to your new world.”
“This is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Then there is but one left to protect.”
And without another word, Michael understood.
Rex's hand dropped from Michael's temple, the buzzing in Lightbringer's mind stopped, the Ancient disappeared, and the drop of blood fell from Rex's jaw.
Michael was once again aware of the others around him.
Rex spoke for one last time to the assembled Guardians of the West. “Let Lightbringer leave... The final assault has begun.”
111.
Slippery Fish
Greylox broke into a trot, then a jog, and was soon running at full speed. His prey was close. And the adrenaline seemed to be kicking in. He didn't feel any pain in his shoulder, and while he felt every stride in his leg and back, the thought of the prize carried him on. The only way this day could be better is if Red were dead. But he would have to wait for another day.
It was quite simple. He just followed the main hallway. If Maren would have ducked into a side room early, he would have run right by her, and he knew it. But he figured that Maren would do as Jack had told her, that she would run for the surface. And so he followed the main line.
When the hall narrowed, and a door to the unmaintained tunnels was left open, he knew she had gone through it. He stepped into the tunnels, and followed the sign that pointed the way to the city above. He had not been in the tunnel long when he heard her grunt as she vaulted over some piping that crossed the main route out. Then he was certain he was closing the gap.
It was warmer in the tunnel, his wounds continued to drip blood, and he began to feel a little light headed. But he pressed on. She would not escape. Not this time.
**
Maren popped open the door to the utility room in the basement of the buil
ding. And as she stepped through, it felt like someone hit her in the leg with a baseball bat. She fell through the door and looked down at her leg. Blood streamed out of the bullet wound from the front of the calf. The smaller hole in the back looked black for a second before the blood began to ooze out of it, too. So that is what it feels like to be shot, she thought to herself.
She wasn't eager to experience it again. Maren stood. Her leg held. It was agony to move the foot at the ankle, but she climbed the stairs. Just before she made it to the top, she saw him emerge from the utility door below.
Greylox fired four quick shots which missed or bounced off the metal stairway. Maren went through the doorway and out of view, but not before Greylox had seen that his earlier shot had hit home. Now she would be slower, and there would be a trail to follow.
**
Maren emerged into the sunshine. And above her, Fortress Margritte crept closer to the earth below.
Greylox was right behind her. He took careful aim and... Click!
That is just one of the reasons he hated old trud technology. One didn't have to bother counting energy blasts or how many pulses one had left. He threw the worthless ballistic slinger away. He would have to use his hands; he would have to get in close. He slipped his hand into his pocket and found the smooth metallic circle of the pulse generator.
Maren limped forward, but she would not get away now. She looked back over her shoulder and gripped her emerald pendant tightly as Greylox moved closer, pulse disk in hand.
And then he saw it. Finally, after all of his efforts, after all he had done, after he had flushed her out into the open...
The Guardian's black wings spread wide and the dark haired angel of the gens landed by Maren.
Greylox smiled. He was right. The Ancients cared about this one. They cared enough to send a Guardian to ensure the finality of it all. He had done well. He had flushed out the prize into the open. He had served the Ancients. At last the gens had realized his importance. At last the gens sent someone to help him. Eternity would be his. At last...
The black armored Guardian of the West raised his fist towards Greylox and melted him into a pile of goo.
“Come with me,” Michael said to Maren. “We are leaving this all.”
112.
Rise and Fall
The concrete roof of the tunnel exploded upward, and Damien flew forth on the combat sled, two biobots flanking him on each side. Finally, Damien rose in the air to challenge those who had set themselves as gods above all others. But Damien was just the harbinger, for after him the heavens would be opened. And through the defenseless skies, the missiles would rise with their payloads of Dreptex and Greendust, and the world would be made anew.
The biobots, their minds linked to Damien's mind, moved in unison. Damien could feel them all. And he felt one more thing: the hint of another mind within his own.
Other sleds rose in the air, but Damien was ahead of them all. As he neared the flagging fortress, a number of specks appears and launched themselves into the air.
The battle was on.
The biobots flew forward. One of the specks grew larger. Damien could see that it was orange, and at the same moment the biobots let forth a stream of burning rounds from their gatling cannons. The four streams of fire converged on the orange guardian. There was no deflecting that many rounds from different angles. The bits that fell to the earth were hardly identifiable as once being of humanoid shape.
Then one of the biobots split in two. Damien could not see what hit it. Then a second biobot was cut diagonally across the chest, but before it cut out, Damien had seen through the biobot's eyes the shimmer of a guardian.
Damien willed the other two biobots to spray the vicinity widely, and by luck he saw a round deflect off of seeming nothingness. The two concentrated their fire and Rang's light-bending armor failed before he was cut to shreds.
The other sleds were now engaging the other guardians. Damien flew higher and prepped the first nova-bomb pass. He dropped a string of them where the targeting computer told him the main chamber should be, then arched up higher above the fortress for the detonation.
He heard the crackle and saw the flash of the nova bombs, each in sequence, opening a tunnel to the fortress's central brain.
At the apex of his climb, something quite unexpected happened. Damien's combat sled began to come apart. But it was not breaking up; it was moving steadily away from him in all directions. For a split second at the apex of his climb, Damien hung in the air, the pieces of the sled suspended around him, before he began to fall. And as he did so, the pieces came back to him. He felt them connecting to his artificial arms, legs, and spine. The power surged through him and he felt the mind of Niles: “This is but a foretaste...”
The armor felt natural. It was an extension of his body. Just as the artificial limbs were an improvement, he felt the power armor had always been meant to be. And just as Niles had opened his mind to the Network, he understand there were many more levels to go. This was all part of the Network's plan, and he was glad for it.
Damien dived in his power armor towards Fortress Magritte, a biobot flanking him on either side. There was nothing to stop him. A silver guardian tried, but failed.
He placed two nova bombs on the brain and the central power core, and launched himself back into the sky, into a world about to be remade anew.
113.
Window of Opportunity
Niles saw all that Damien did in his mind. And he saw Fortress Magritte fall to the ground. But that was only one of many. In the immediate vicinity, Fortress Miyazaki and Fortress Monet also fell. And farther away, the others came crashing down, too.
And thus the door was opened for the first time. The gens were vulnerable and the Network would make the most of it.
Niles gave the command, and the missiles rose towards the heavens, carrying their warheads of Dreptex, the substance that would cleanse the earth forever of the gens. The final addition of the Greendust would ensure its completeness. Or so they had planned.
Niles felt a buzzing headache again. The headaches seemed to be happening more frequently. It must be the collective stress of the Network.
And then he saw the shadow before him.
Niles smiled through his scars. “You are too late.”
“I don't think so,” said the shadow.
“You see, your plan has failed miserably. We are the victors. The Dreptex will soon rain down upon the planet. There will be no escape. Its distribution will be complete,” Niles bragged. “It will grow, it will stop them all. Your plan was not enough.”
“No, it has worked only too well, only too well. Already, the wheels are turning that will change this world forever. It is only a short time now,” the shadow said.
“A short time until your destruction.”
The shadow ignored his taunt. “I wanted to thank you, to let you know I had your best interests at heart. The Event has finally drawn near. But it is not the event you had planned, nor is it the Event you imagined the gens’ planned.”
Niles laughed dismissively through his headache. “You'll see soon enough what we had planned. The missiles cannot be stopped now.”
“No, they cannot be. Which is why I am only telling you now. I think you'll find that your missiles make quite pretty green fireworks.”
“You know of the Greendust?” Niles asked, surprised.
“Of course. I made it. It's specially designed, and among its properties it just happens to neutralize Dreptex-like compounds.”
“That's impossible! We saw it discovered! We felt it in our veins!”
“You saw what I wanted you to see.”
“It was alive, we could feel it... it will do as we command,” Niles insisted.
“No, I am its master,” the shadow said. “When I learned you were making Dreptex, I knew you would not hesitate to use it, even if it meant you killed the world. And when I knew you could not be stopped from using it, I knew what needed to be don
e to stop it, to co-opt it for other purposes. The hard part was getting you to willingly mix in a compound that would make it inert, that answered to me.”
“Impossible. We saw Damien's mind. He discovered the Greendust in the tunnels.”
“You saw through Damien's eyes, who believed what Red and I had arranged. We identified him as useful for this purpose quite some time ago. Years, as a matter of fact. Damien found what we wanted him to find. He joined those whom we wanted him to join. If it makes you feel any better, Damien didn't know that he was thwarting you. You had him convinced.”
Niles stood frozen.
“I'm afraid your missiles will be merely be a demonstration of what might have been. If it makes you feel better, it would have worked, to a degree, were it not for the Greendust. I needed to prod, not hammer, my gen opposition, and that I have accomplished. Many were not convinced that the truds posed any threat, and they grew complacent with the status quo. This was the first attack in many years to get close to the Ancients and it has shaken them out of their complacency.”
“You’ve betrayed us!” Niles yelled.
“Do you really think it would have been possible for the Organization or the Network to survive this long without some help? Do you still not comprehend what we are capable of? How many of those whom you claim to be a part of, who called themselves truds, betrayed the cause? Many truds tried to help the gens. Could you not conceive of the possibility that some of the gens would likewise have reason to help the truds? Some of us remember the time before.”
