‘My time has come, Metatron?’ the Overman says. He sounds amused, strangely enough. ‘That’s funny. I feel exactly the same way.’
The Overman raises his hand, telekinetically seizing Metatron and lifting him into the air. Metatron struggles against the Overman’s forces, freeing himself long enough to head-butt the supervillain in the face. The Overman cries out in pain as he drops Metatron to the floor. The entire ship shudders. I wonder how high up we are and how a ship of this size would handle a fall.
Metatron stands to his full height as the Overman wipes the blood from his mouth.
‘You are but a fraction of a man,’ Metatron says, his fists clenched. ‘And you deserve to feel every ounce of pain you’ve ever caused the world!’
The Overman doesn’t reply. Not immediately. Instead, he stares at his hand and the crimson stain that shines there.
‘You play at being a hero, you delude yourself into thinking you’re some kind of champion, and you look to lecture me on what I deserve? I’ll tell you this, Metatron: I respect only what a man has written with his own blood. And you? You’ve never shed a drop of it. Not for your country, not for your ideals, not for anything! That, however, can be easily fixed.’
The Overman lashes out so fast it’s hard for the eye to track. There’s a sudden burst of scarlet energy as his telekinetic field explodes, smashing Metatron to the ground. The superhero lands on his back, grunting in pain, his black wings sprawling behind him. I realise Machina is using the distraction to start pulling apart the Major’s complex bonds but I can’t help but stare at the battle in front of me, transfixed. I want to help, but … but … what could I possibly do?
‘You know,’ the Overman says, ‘I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to rip the wings from an angel’s back.’
Metatron screams out in pain. It’s a scream so intense, so agonising, that I pray I never hear anything like it ever again. Everyone, even Machina, is frozen in horror as we watch on helplessly. By the time the Overman is finished the room is a mess of blood and black feathers. In Metatron’s place lies Persona, tears streaming down his weathered face. He slumps to the ground, unconscious.
The Overman looks at me. A smile floats across his lips. He raises his hand. I flinch.
He starts to wag his finger.
‘Tut, tut, tut. You thought he could help you? You thought anyone could help you? My poor boy, you have no idea what you’ve brought on yourself.’
‘Leave him alone!’ Machina’s voice is trembling but determined. It also has a digitised edge to it that I recognise immediately. She has her full armour on.
I swing around just as a blast of power rips past my right shoulder, aimed at the Overman’s chest. He deflects it without so much as wincing. Machina sends a second blast at him, and then a third, walking forward with each shot until she’s standing between the Overman and me. The Overman dismisses every one of her strikes as if he’s brushing dust off his jacket.
‘Is this meant to intimidate me? You’re not trying very hard,’ he says.
‘I’ll show you trying hard!’ Machina replies, igniting her thrusters and launching herself at him. She’s only a few inches from him, her hands outstretched, before a quick gesture from him freezes her in mid-air.
‘You flatter yourself thinking you’re intimidating, my dear,’ the Overman whispers to her, his face reflected in her helmet’s visor. ‘Especially given the flaw in your armour.’
‘Flaw …?’ Machina repeats.
‘You sacrificed some of your nanites, didn’t you? Somewhere along the way, you deployed a number of them to do your bidding. It didn’t have to be a lot, just a smattering, but it was enough. Enough to weaken your armour. Enough to leave a flaw. Enough to allow me to do … this.’
He whips his hand to the side, and with that one action he rips the armour from Machina’s body. It explodes off her skin like he’s just hit a detonator. She screams as it falls to the ground in tiny shattered pieces, the blunt force of it beating her black and blue, even as she’s held paralysed in place.
‘No!’ I scream without thinking, and then his eyes are on me, his attention focused like a laser beam.
‘And as for the boy wonder … whoever you are …’
I feel fear welling up inside me, rising in my chest and throat like bile. Machina drops to the floor. She’s still conscious, but only just.
‘I swear to God,’ the Major says from behind me. ‘If you touch a hair on his head …’
‘You’ll what? Imprison me? Already did that. Kill me? Not a chance in hell. None of you get it. Not yet. But you will. I’m invincible now. No one can stop me.’
‘We can, Adam,’ Agent Alpha says. ‘And we will.’
‘So says the so-called hero who can’t even get out of a bubble. Now if you’ll excuse me,’ the Overman turns towards me again, ‘I have a young life, full of potential, to quash.’
There’s a tremor running through me that at first I take to be terror. Then it’s coupled with the sound of thunder. It’s the same sound I heard before, when Machina and I were in the air ducts. And that’s when I realise …
Gaia and Cronus come crashing through the wall, engaged in the same battle they’ve been waging since this whole nightmare began. Gaia’s dark hair is wild around her face, her uniform torn and ragged. Cronus’s armour, meanwhile, is cracked, slashed and hammered, but he looks no more defeated than the Overman does.
The roof bears down on us, unable to support its own weight, and the Overman is swallowed up by the avalanche of metal. Circuitry pops and steel wails. I shield my face as electricity crackles and computer monitors burst. I look up in time to see Gaia block a swing from Cronus’s huge spiked fist with her sword. She kicks him in the head for his efforts and he bellows in rage.
Machina, still weak from having her armour ripped from her, struggles to her feet. She doesn’t see Cronus behind her, and certainly can’t react in time as he rears back his fist to throw another strike at Gaia. He smashes Machina’s spine with the ball of his huge elbow. She lets out a cry of pain as she’s sent tumbling.
For the first time, Gaia realises where she is and who’s surrounding her, and then it dawns on her what Cronus has just done.
‘That. Is. Enough!’ With ferocious strength and lethal speed, she throws her blade like a harpoon into Cronus’s chest. He staggers backwards, overcome by the attack. Gaia takes a running leap at him, and they smash through the wall, ripping through glass and metal like they don’t even feel it. They crash through wall after wall after wall, until finally sunlight punctures through into the bridge. They’ve torn their way through the ship, with nowhere left to go but into the ocean that rolls beneath them.
Locked in a struggle so fierce they don’t even notice, they go tumbling over the side. They fight all the way down, their hands around each other’s throats as they hit the waves.
The Overman coughs and splutters as he pulls himself out from beneath the debris. I assume he searches around to take in what’s happened, but I don’t see him do that. Because by the time he’s free, I’ve already used my super-speed to grab Machina and Persona and get us all as far away from the bridge, and as far away from the madness, as possible.
And as I run I curse myself over and over again, wishing I could have taken the Major or Agent Alpha or even one member of the crew, knowing there was no way I could have, and wondering to myself what hope I have now that I’m entirely, completely, utterly on my own.
I speed through the hallways of the Round Table, and at first I have no idea where to go. I’m amazed at how easy it is to carry two people across my shoulders; the momentum I’ve built up makes holding onto them easy, as if gravity’s doing most of the work.
I’m nothing more than a golden blur as I sprint through corridor after corridor. Gaia and Cronus have really gone to town. The place is a complete mess. I round a familiar corner and it occurs to me where I can take Machina and Persona. It’s a complete ‘Oh, duh!’ moment, and I can�
��t believe I didn’t think of it the second I scooped them up.
I run through the passages of the ship so fast it’s almost like teleportation, and within the blink of an eye I’m standing at the door where we left Dr Salim, pounding on it like my heart is pounding.
‘Dr Salim! Dr Salim, are you in there?’
I hear the locks on the other side of the door and a sweaty, harassed-looking Dr Salim opens it.
‘You’re back!’ he says. Then he sees the passengers I’ve returned with. He stares, horrified.
‘There’s no time to explain,’ I say. ‘Machina’s injured. And Persona’s a shape-shifter who got the wings ripped off his other form. If the nurse is still here …’
‘We’ve just finished taking care of the ensign,’ says Dr Salim. ‘But this isn’t a proper infirmary. I don’t know how much we can –’
‘Like I said, Doc, I don’t have a lot of time. And I don’t have anywhere else to go.’
We pull both of them in and prop them up on the last two tables.
‘What do you mean, you “don’t have a lot of time”?’ Dr Salim says.
‘I’m going back,’ I tell him.
‘What? But … but what are you going to do?’
‘That’s a good question,’ I say as I head for the door. ‘I’ll let you know when I figure it out.’
‘No, wait! You can’t –’
Whatever Dr Salim says, I don’t hear it. I’m already a golden blur again, trying to work out what to do next.
The Bridge
‘Your little friend hasn’t bought himself much time,’ the Overman says, clearing away the wreckage from the main navigation area with a sharp wave of his hand. Agent Alpha and the Major look on, both miraculously untouched by the chaos. ‘Once we reach the Dragon’s Lair, everything will change. And there’s nothing that can be done about it.’
‘What’s at this “lair”, Adam? What are you planning?’ Agent Alpha asks.
‘If I didn’t tell you before, what makes you think I’ll tell you now?’
‘Because you want to. You want to brag. You want to tell me how much smarter and better than me you are!’
The Overman stops, turning his head to look at Agent Alpha.
‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘But you’ll know soon enough. You’ll know when it’s time.’
The few radar systems that remain online start to blare, warning of incoming aircraft.
‘It seems we have company. Four fixed-wing fighters, approaching fast. Let’s show them what we can do, eh?’
The Overman closes his eyes, and the Round Table’s gun turrets and missile launchers spring up from elevating platforms and shutter bays.
‘Round Table, this is Captain Robert Doncaster of the 64th Fighter Wing,’ the radio crackles. ‘We are reading that your target systems are locked on. Fire on us and we will respond in kind. Stand down. I repeat, stand down!’
‘Captain Doncaster,’ the Overman speaks into the radio mic. ‘This is the Overman. My wrath is a spreading flame. My power is absolute, and my judgement is final. You have trespassed upon me, and for that I offer you this – oblivion.’
Ammunition rips through the air like holy fire, missiles stream from their launchers like screaming demons.
‘Adam! Don’t!’ Agent Alpha shouts, too late. The radar detects four fighters.
Then three fighters.
Then two.
Then one.
Less than a moment later the final fighter blinks out.
The radio falls silent. The Overman turns with a triumphant smile.
‘How could you do that?’ Agent Alpha asks, staring into nothingness. ‘You served in uniform. How could you do that?’
‘Don’t lecture me, Khalid. I am so far evolved beyond your petty concepts of good and evil. It’s time you recognised that.’
The next hour is spent in silence, the Overman staring at the horizon, the only sounds coming from the navigational instruments and the radar displays.
Finally, the Overman stirs. ‘We’re here. The Dragon’s Lair.’
Agent Alpha and the Major look to the few view screens left working. Though the images of the scene outside crackle with static, they all show one thing very clearly …
‘Nothing,’ Agent Alpha says, ‘There’s nothing out there.’
‘Crazy guy is crazy. What a plot twist,’ Major Blackthorne mutters. The Overman looks over at her and the Major stiffens, awaiting an outburst of anger. But instead the Overman smirks. Leaning over the computer console, he taps the keyboard and an unfamiliar screen blinks up.
‘What is that?’ Agent Alpha asks.
‘The front door,’ the Overman replies. ‘And I have the key.’
Tapping in a sequence of numbers and letters and finishing with a hit of the ‘Enter’ button, the Overman smiles almost happily as the screen confirms his passcode.
‘Watch the screens, Major. Here’s your plot twist.’
Major Blackthorne and Agent Alpha stare at the flickering monitors. They watch as the waters beneath the ship begin to stir, growing more and more frenzied until a whirlpool swirls into existence.
Like a gaping, hungry mouth, the whirlpool stretches down into the dark depths of the ocean. And from those depths a black mass rises, water sluicing off its corners and dripping from its edges.
Staring with shock at the screens, the Major can’t help but exclaim, ‘It’s a pyramid!’
‘No,’ the Overman replies, his eyes alight with triumph. ‘It’s a temple.’
A temple carved out of black volcanic glass emerges from the deep to glint in the light of the setting sun. Hundreds of huge, roughly hewn steps lead to a chamber perched on the very top. Its doors are immense.
The water slows, settles, and the temple comes to rest on its surface. Waves lap at the lower steps as if this curious island has always been there, waiting to be discovered.
‘The Dragon’s Lair. Or, more appropriately, my lair,’ says the Overman, closing his eyes once more as his shoulders tense and a vein stands out on his forehead. The Round Table trembles and moans as the Overman lowers it to rest at the temple’s shore.
‘This is where I leave you,’ the Overman says, turning towards the Major and Agent Alpha. ‘Enjoy your front-row seats at the birth of my brave new world. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.’
He raises his hands towards the roof and claws his fingers. The ceiling wrenches open and the scarlet sunset rays pour into the room as the Overman floats up and out.
‘Whatever the hell he has planned, it doesn’t take a military think-tank to work out that it isn’t good news,’ the Major says. ‘We’ve got to find a way out of here.’
‘I’m open to whatever suggestions you have, but I’m not having any more luck breaking free of this force-field than I was before,’ Agent Alpha replies. ‘And I don’t see more back-up arriving any time soon.’
There’s a sudden rattling in one of the few remaining air vents, and then a thump. The grate pops off and clangs to the floor, followed by a masked face covered in grime.
‘Sam?’ Major Blackthorne asks.
It doesn’t take a lot of time for me to work out a strategy, however basic and non-confrontational it may be. The trickiest part is finding the right air vent, which I do by getting as close as I can to the bridge without attracting the Overman’s attention, and then clambering up into it as quietly as possible.
I listen in horror as the Overman blows four fighter jets out of the sky. I hear the short argument he and Agent Alpha have after that, and the brooding silence that follows. The entire time I’m wondering what it is I can do to stop him.
When we reach our destination, with the temple rising out of the water and the ship dropping down alongside it, my stomach lurches. We’re at the end of the line. If I’m going to do something, it’s going to have to happen now.
There’s a noise like a car crash, the rending of metal. I look out through the grate to see the Overman rising up and out of the ship. Then h
e disappears towards the temple. As Agent Alpha and the Major start talking, I heave open the vent and tumble out. I can tell from their faces that I was the last person they were expecting to see. Again.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ the Major tells me. ‘I think your bravery’s commendable, but …’
‘I’m not going to let the Overman just do whatever it is he’s got planned, and you wouldn’t either,’ I say as I rush over to the Major and start pulling at the metal of her bonds. Machina was able to use her armour’s strength to pluck away at it like it was tissue paper. I can’t even budge a single scrap.
The Major looks at me sadly. ‘Sam, you should –’
‘Goldrush.’ Agent Alpha cuts her off in that deep tone I’ve only ever heard him use on TV. ‘I need your help.’
I turn to him, confused. He’s still stuck in the Overman’s telekinetic bubble.
‘I need you to follow the Overman,’ he says. ‘Stick to the shadows, stay out of his range, avoid his notice, but follow him and find out what he’s up to. If there’s anything you can do to upset his plans, then do it, but don’t so much as attempt it if it’ll bring you to his attention or if it means you have to confront him directly. Do you understand?’
‘I –’
‘Don’t put that on him, Michael!’ the Major interjects.
‘The situation demands it, Dominique,’ Agent Alpha replies. ‘Do you think you’re up to it, Goldrush?’
I nod. But my mouth is dry.
‘Remember, don’t confront him directly. Just observe, and do what you can,’ he says. ‘Go.’
I don’t waste any time in responding. I head straight for the staircase that leads to the flight deck. I’m not quite out of earshot when I hear the Major speak.
Vanguard Prime Book 1 Page 11
