by David Beers
He threw his blankets off and stared at the ceiling.
Still, it would have to be dealt with. He was tired of the thing floating above his planet. There were any number of important things to worry about, and he didn't need this added to the mix.
"Alrain," he said to the empty room, waiting for the AI to connect him.
"Yes, Lord Dax?" his head of security said a few seconds later. That was one thing Bin liked about the old man. He was always awake before Bin.
"By the end of the day, I want to know where that dreadnought is from, and I want it out of my planet’s orbit. Do you understand? I've asked this too many times, and I'm not going to ask again."
"We've nearly tracked down its origin. I'll have it to you by the end of the day."
"Good."
The transmission ended, and Bin swung his feet to the floor. The AI began telling him what he could expect this day, starting with the Battle of the Rocs. Such a battle rarely occurred since it took serious balls by one of the gigantes to try to ride the giant Rocs. Bin's father's head of research had thought the creatures up decades ago, naming them from some forgotten mythical legend from Earth. The rocs truly were majestic creatures. Most of the time, the clan that tried to ride the rocs was chewed to bits and their treasure was appropriated by the remaining clans.
Every once in a while, though, the damned gigantes managed to do it. When they succeeded, prices went up for that group. Bin planned to watch the battle because such a boon to profits would help him forget about the damned dreadnought.
"Ask the rest of the board who is going to watch the battle. Do we have percentages on whether or not the gigantes will be able to capture the rocs?"
The AI answered him. "Fifty percent of your board will be in attendance. The gigantes have a thirty-five percent chance of successfully riding the rocs today."
Bin smiled at that. It was the highest percentage he'd heard in years. If the gigantes managed to mount those damn bird-things, the game was won, and profits would soar.
Pun intended.
Alistair slept without dreams, and he woke to Nero's giant face staring at him.
His other two warriors were cleaning themselves as best they could with giant leaves, something Caesar or Nero must have shown Thoreaux.
Alistair blinked at the huge head.
A smile spread across Nero's lips. "Are you ready to die, spaceman?"
"And to think, I use to wake up next to a beautiful woman," Alistair mumbled. "Now I get you. Why would I ever want to go back to Earth?" He rolled over and pushed to his feet, stretching his arms high once he was standing.
The air around him was crisp, and the star wasn't yet above the horizon. Alistair could smell himself, and he was indeed ripe, but there was no time to get clean. They'd done him the kindness of letting him sleep in, knowing he would lead them into battle today, and every bit of rest he could get would be helpful.
"How much time do we have?"
Caesar tossed the used leaf to the ground. "An hour to get in position. It should take us thirty standard minutes."
"We let you sleep as long as we could," Thoreaux added.
"Much appreciated. Nero, you coming with us?" Alistair asked.
Nero was still squatting. "Yes, of course. We all die together today, or maybe we all live as one. I'm interested to see which."
Alistair didn't know how to respond, just thought the gigante sounded about like he always did—crazy. Alistair put his armor fully on and asked Nero, "They'll strike at dawn, right?"
The giant stood. "Yes. It's their best chance, both for wrangling the rocs and attacking the other clan."
Alistair nodded and turned his attention to the other two. "We'll know in two hours if this is our opening. You two ready?"
"Ready, boss," Caesar said as he attached his chest plate.
Thoreaux's second-to-last piece of armor connected on his arm. Only his helmet remained. "To say I'm tired of this planet would be an understatement. I cannot get off of it quick enough. So yes, I'm ready."
"Good." He extended his arm to Nero and the giant stared at it, unsure of what it meant. "Thank you for everything, Nero. I'm glad to have you going into battle with us."
The giant's eyes slowly rose to Alistair's.
"I trust you," the former Titan said. He didn't know if the gigante had ever heard such a thing before. Certainly not from the makers, and probably not from his kind, either. Alistair knew what Caesar had said would have to happen to Nero, but if he understood anything about this universe, it was that just because the powers that be said something, it didn't make it so.
He saw tears in Nero's eyes. They welled in the deep holes like clear pools. "Thank you." The giant extended his arm in the same way Alistair had. Alistair grabbed it just below the elbow and felt the creature do the same. He felt the unforgiving strength in the giant's hands.
Alistair trusted that strength would be used against the right people today.
The moons still shone, although they were close to the horizon. On the other side of the world, the star was just below where it could be seen. Alistair knelt in the cold mud, looking at a building that could have come directly out of one of the stories he'd read as a child.
It was a castle of old, made of stone and without electricity or any other power source Alistair could see. A moat surrounded the castle, and patrol guards were stationed every fifty yards or so. The castle proper was a big thing, obviously too big for the number of clan members meant to operate it. Alistair thought that was probably another psychological game with the giants. They had to both protect and service the damned building.
Alistair was a quarter-mile away, the HUD in his helmet revealing everything as if he stood right next to it. The patrol guards were every bit as large as Nero, all of them much larger than Caesar. They positively dwarfed him and Thoreaux. Their weapons weren't drawn, whatever they carried. He'd tried to pry that out of Nero, but the giant only said that each clan had been given different weapons and that he hadn't fought this clan before.
Caesar confirmed the truth of that and said the weapons used when he was here would have long ago been done away with.
Alistair touched the armor on his right arm and it retracted, revealing his flesh.
Thoreaux and Caesar both knew what it meant, and neither paused as they followed his lead.
Alistair's faceplate moved inside his helmet. The air was crisp on his skin.
All three drew blades from their sides, keeping their eyes in front of them.
"I do not kill for glory."
The three of them said the words at the same time, their breath fogging in the air before them.
"I do not kill for malice. I kill because it is right. Because if I do not kill, those who seek to harm me and those I love will do so."
The three warriors took their blades and drew blood from their skin. The blood dripped down to the mud beneath them.
They whispered as one, their words as chilling as any Titan to ever repeat the mantra. "I do not fear the enemy. I do not fear death. I only fear living without protecting those I love. I only fear cowardice and hiding from my duty. As this blood flows, so will I. I bleed now so that I will not later. I bleed now so that those who sow harm against me know that blood does not frighten me. I bleed now because it is this blood that will conquer anyone in my path. See it and fear it. See it and die."
Alistair dipped his hand to his bleeding arm, and as he did, he saw Nero doing the same, watching him. Alistair didn't lose focus on the ritual but brought the blood to his face and drew two lines beneath his eyes.
Nero—and the other two—did the same.
Alistair touched his armor and it spread back down his arm, the faceplate coming down to shield him again.
The star cracked the horizon, sending gold and orange bleeding across the world.
The cries of the rocs reverberated through the air at almost the same time.
"They did it," Caesar whispered. "They fly now."
/> The rocs cried out again, louder this time, and their sound was one of the fiercest things Alistair had ever heard in his life. There was no fear in the animals’ sounds, and their voices carried across the land before they could be seen.
Alistair looked at the patrol units. They'd frozen, clearly understanding what was coming their way. After the third cry from the unseen animals, still hidden in the darkness somehow, one of the units raised a trumpet to their lips as if it were necessary. As if everyone inside that castle hadn't heard the primordial screeches of certain death.
More trumpets seized the air. Candles were lit inside the castle, and from a quarter-mile away, Alistair could hear the sounds of war coming to life. Even on this distant planet, he understood that sound.
The other inside him—the warrior who sang death like bards sang songs—stepped forth.
Prometheus had arrived.
He rushed out of the brush that hid him.
The star rose on their right, and the warrior went to war.
Prometheus saw the first roc. It must have been flying close to the tree line because it shot straight up into the air, and with a force Prometheus could only imagine, streaked toward a sentry.
Its massive beak opened, revealing those horrific teeth. The giant was split in half. The roc rose into the air again, opening its mouth and letting the top half of the giant fall to the ground.
Pro had stopped running without realizing it. The top half of the body hit the muddy ground.
Prometheus broke his trance and took off again.
They had to cross the moat before the battle began in earnest.
Bin was wide awake, and the scent of the coffee beans that had been transported from Earth brewing behind him filled the air. He and half his board floated above the castle, staring down at the starting battle.
Bin was in awe at the rocs. He'd seen them before but never seen them ridden. His father had been a genius to think up a creature like this, then to create one who could wrangle the rocs to do their bidding. No human could ever ride one of those beasts. They would be ripped apart before stepping within ten yards of them.
Bin and his cohort rode in a transport that masqueraded as a cloud. There were no worries about anyone below seeing them. The brutes were far too simplistic to think of such a thing. More, if they were seen, what would it matter?
"Sir," a servant said from behind Bin.
He stuck his hand out without turning around, and the cup of hot coffee was placed in it. He didn't want to be interrupted during this. Such a massacre wouldn't be seen again for a long time, and images from this transport would be spliced together when the promotional videos started going out to the armies and warlords.
Today was a glorious day where money would be made.
"Sir?"
That wasn't one of the servants but one of his board members sitting at the table behind him. Bin preferred, at least at this point, to stand and look through the panels beneath his feet to get an overhead view. Perhaps later, he'd sit and the table and let the holovid show him different angles.
"Bin?" the voice asked.
"For the gods' sakes," Bin said, turning around and sloshing his coffee. "What in the hell do you want? Can't you let me watch this in peace?"
No one at the table was looking at him. His anger didn't matter in the slightest, which only angered him more.
"Bin, sir, you need to take a look at this."
"Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!" he cursed and stalked to the table. He slammed his coffee down, spilling some over the cup's lip to show how angry he was.
He forgot about that when he looked at the holovid.
The man he'd burnt to a crisp was alive and rushing toward the coming battle.
He wasn't slowing down for the moat, either. Rather, he appeared to be about to attempt to jump it.
"What in the gods’ name is happening?" someone whispered.
Bin forgot about his coffee, his rage, and the battle. His eyes focused on the man who was about to attempt the impossible.
Just before Prometheus reached the edge of the moat, he regretted his decision. It was daring, unlikely to be challenged, and would almost surely kill him.
It was far too late to stop the charge, though.
He was rushing forward at top speed. Each time his foot slammed on the ground, it propelled him forward another ten yards. The moat was close, another two jumps away.
Everyone else had slowed and was coming to a stop at the edge of the ravine.
Prometheus kicked off hard, having no idea if he was going to make it across. He propelled himself into the air and went higher and higher, his legs moving as if he were still running. He glanced down and saw those eel creatures beneath. They churned up a frothy storm in the water, sensing something above.
Pro's arc peaked, and he started his descent. It was going to be close. He heard the sound of rocs echoing off the castle walls. He had no idea if they were zeroing in on him. Perhaps he would be plucked from the air and savaged above the toothy beasts in the water.
His HUD showed him distance and time. Three seconds until impact.
Two...
One...
Prometheus tucked and rolled, clearing the distance by a single yard.
He rose from the roll with his Whip unleashed and cut down the first giant he saw. The three lasers cut him in quarters. The gigante remained standing for a brief moment, then fell to the ground in four pieces as Pro turned to look at the three on the other side of the moat.
Mayhem reared its confusing head all around him, with gigantes rushing from the castle’s doors as others were dropped from the air, the rocs obeying their new masters. The drawbridge was up, one of three that surrounded the castle, and they had made the rocs so necessary. Prometheus needed it to do what came next.
He ran toward the drawbridge. A sentry stood in front of it, a creature wearing black armor who stood three feet taller than him. His head was turned to the sky and he watched the taloned beasts fly to and fro, most likely hoping one didn't spot him.
He dropped his eyes to the man in front of him too late.
Prometheus impaled him without so much as a glance. He ripped his Whip free from the giant’s chest while his mind figured out the drawbridge's mechanism. He couldn't see his friends on the other side since the bridge’s deck was in his way, but he trusted they were in the right spot. The bridge, like everything else to do with this castle, was something from ancient times. Simple metal and rope.
Prometheus cut through the rope on his right with a single swipe, then moved to the left. The bridge was straining, the metal cogs wanting to turn. He sliced through the second batch of ropes and waited...
Nothing happened.
He heard the footsteps before he saw the person and ducked, slicing his Whip backward at the same time. It hit home, and Prometheus felt the giant drop.
Still the bridge stood.
Prometheus almost cut his own throat when he saw the problem. A metal pole had been stuck between the cogs for something just like this. Two of the three drawbridges were only for emergency escapes. Ropes held them up; there was no mechanizing gear to lower or raise them. The gigantes had done something very wise or very stupid. They had shoved a pipe into it, which Prometheus had missed in his rush.
The drawbridge held firm. Prometheus would have to somehow wrench the pipe free.
Even with the Fire Starter armor, he didn't see how that would be possible.
He rushed to the cogs and gripped the piece of pipe that was visible. He pulled until his shoulder joints creaked, but it wouldn't come free.
Pro turned to look at the battle. Fire was blazing from one of the castle’s rooms. The cries and grunts of war were all around him, and the plan he'd worked out was failing.
"He's a godsdamn fool," Bin said with a chuckle.
The former Titan was pulling on a simple tool the gigantes had used for decades to stop drawbridge invasions, a metal pipe in the cogs that they hoped invaders wouldn't thin
k about when cutting the ropes.
"He's cut off from his reinforcements. He doesn't have a fucking chance."
Bin had been nervous minutes before, watching the man clear a span that should've been impossible. He'd cut down three gigantes as if he'd somehow known where they would move before it happened, his movements as fluid as water.
Now, though, he was finished. It didn't matter how fast or strong he was. One man against rocs and gigantes? Soon he'd just be another body lying on the battlefield.
"Sir," someone said but didn't finish.
They didn't need to because Bin saw what was happening, and words couldn't describe it.
Prometheus knew he needed his friends, human and gigante, if any chance was to be had on this side.
He also knew he wasn't physically strong enough to do what was needed. Perhaps no one in the universe was, or perhaps everyone but him. All he knew was that he couldn't shift that pipe, and there wasn't time to make his way to the second drawbridge.
Prometheus had to summon the thing he didn't understand, the power granted him by an old woman without his consent. The thing that let him see the future and travel to other parts of the galaxy.
For the first time since he’d been modified, he had to get some control over it or perish.
Prometheus shut his Whip down and holstered it.
He turned so that his back was to the battle and he faced the unmoving cog.
Pro closed his eyes and thought he would have to turn the sound on his helmet down. However, the moment he saw blackness, he heard nothing. It was as if he'd walked into a sound- and sight-proof room.
His eyes flashed open, and sound immediately returned.
Hurry now, Allie, his wife whispered from her special place in his mind. You must gain control, or all is lost.
