by David Brush
“No explosives?” he said, rifling through the shelves.
“No, Doctor, this is a research installation.”
James grunted. “So you’ve said.”
He set aside another rifle and picked up a metallic hilt that had been buried underneath it. On one of the rectangle’s ends, a grip had been carved into the metal. He wrapped his hand around the cuboidal hilt’s indentation.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asked, inspecting the object.
“That is the Blade of the Builder. It is the ceremonial sword that Dr. Nightrick used during the formal annexation of Dawn.”
James nodded. “I can see that. What is it doing here with all this shit?”
“I have no idea, Doctor.”
With his grip tight around the hilt, he cleared his throat. “On.”
A warmth began to emanate from the metal. The top of the cuboidal hilt parted, sliding down into a crossguard over the grip. Numerous metallic subsections slid out of the opening and clinked into place, locking into a long, thin blade.
“Perfect,” he said, checking the weapon’s weight and balance. “Off.”
The blade retracted back into the cuboid, with the crossguard closing again into a rectangle. James slid the hilt into his belt and picked up the rifle he’d set aside.
“Ok, time to welcome the sphinxes to Dawn.”
Haley approached the massive command console in the center of the wide chamber. Around her, a hundred titanium doors lined the wall, dark and cold, like the rest of the facility.
“Are those the droids?” she asked, looking around at the sealed containment units.
“This installation’s, yes,” replied Doudna from overhead. “This facility has 525 warrior-automatons. The other 2550 are spread across the remaining outposts on Dawn. From this station, you can either activate the local force or mobilize the entire planetary defense grid.”
“What about the air force? Where are the planes stationed?”
“Split between the airfields at Outpost Omega and Outpost Beta. If you summon them, the closest fighters will arrive within fifteen minutes.”
“Good enough,” replied Haley, running her fingers across the dim display. The screen flickered lightly as it glowed back to life.
“The droid army is online, Dr. Hall. What is your command?”
“That depends,” she said, swiping her fingers across the console in another flurry. “Where is James?”
“Dr. Mercer is being pursued by the sphingian hunting party,” said Doudna as the metal chambers lining the room slid open. A hundred robotic soldiers marched out of the containment units, coil rifles in hand. Each droid had a humanoid body, with armor plating covering the exterior. Their circular heads were lined with sensory relays, having no true front or back.
“How long until they catch him?” she asked, jumping down from the elevated platform that housed the chamber’s command console.
“Less than thirty seconds.”
James leaned out from the wall he had ducked behind. He counted three sphinx warriors sprinting down the walkway towards him before pulling back into cover.
“Mercer,” called the commander at the forefront of the group. “This facility is surrounded by a small army. Surrender now and we won’t execute you outright.”
“You’re the one who’s surrounded,” said James, quietly raising his coil rifle. “We don’t have to fight here.”
“You apes decided that the second you opened fire on us. Now surrender or I’m going to disembowel you. That goes for your mate as well.”
James spun out, firing a quick burst towards the hunting party before recoiling again. He heard the satisfying thud of metal slugs tearing through flesh. As he raised his rifle up for a second salvo, the sharp clang of a canister bouncing off of the tiled floor reverberated through the hall. He had just enough time to see the black, circular light grenade roll into view before going blind. Trying desperately to find his bearings, he fumbled around, firing wildly into the void. He swiveled his head, noticing a blur of motion seconds before feeling the impact of the sphinx who had charged him. James hit the wall hard, dropping his rifle into the boundless white. Another blurry outline came racing back towards him, but he ducked this time, just narrowly avoiding the furious swing of the sphinx commander. The beast reached down and grabbed his disoriented opponent by the collar. In one effortless motion, the sphinx tossed James across and hall, sending him slamming into the wall. The chemist lurched up off of the ground, trying to center himself. As he got to his feet, the other hunter was on him, grabbing him from behind and forcing him to his knees.
The commander smiled as he approached his subdued human prey. “Dr. Mercer. I’ve killed a lot of your kind in my career, but this is the first time that I’ll be able to say I truly enjoyed it.”
The sphinx flexed his wrist, causing the nails lining his fingers to extend into long, sharp claws. James lowered his head, blinking through the blinding light. Slowly, his sight returned to him, leaving a bright afterimage burned across his field of view.
“And what is this?” said the sphinx, grabbing the rectangular hilt hanging from James’s belt. “You humans have the most obsolete weapons. Anything built by your kind is valueless. You should have asked the borrrians to supply your outposts. Maybe then you’d have stood an actual chance of fighting back.”
“That belonged to Dr. Nightrick himself,” said James. “A little relic from our past.”
“And what do you call it?” asked the commander, examining the metallic instrument.
“On,” replied James. The hilt opened, firing its metal contents down into a blade. The racing segments tore through the sphinx’s light armor, piercing the creature’s shoulder blade. “We call that a sword. Still works pretty well if you ask me.”
“Treacherous little bastard,” screamed the sphinx, pulling the entrenched blade free from his flesh. “I’ll flay you alive for that.”
The commander raised the sharp steel over James’s head, but the sound from behind him caused him to turn, just in time to feel the full force of Haley’s foot connecting with his chest. He flew into James and his remaining comrade, knocking the two over. Before hitting the ground, he unfurled his wings and gave one powerful flap, landing on his feet in a graceful flourish and stepping over the other two.
“Brave, but foolish,” said the sphinx, swinging the stolen blade towards her.
“Off,” said James, scrambling to his feet.
The steel retracted, just missing Haley’s stomach as it did. She brought her hand up hard against the alien’s chin, causing him to stumble backwards another step. As the hilt slipped out of his hand, she kicked the blade across the floor to James, who scooped it up and brought the steel tearing down through the other hunter. He put his foot against his dead opponent’s chest and kicked the sword free.
Shifting sideways, the sphinx commander did his best to keep both James and Haley in sight.
“James is free, Doudna,” said Haley. “Strike team forward.”
The sphinx finally noticed the dim lights off in the distance. From every accessway the droids marched, coil rifles raised.
“Yield,” she said. “We’re not your enemy.”
The sphinx turned his head, looking for a clear route. “I see there’s no way out, Dr. Hall.”
“None,” she replied.
The commander nodded at her. “Then we go together.”
He slipped his finger into his vest and pulled a pin out of one of the canisters strapped to his chest. The thin piece of metal chimed lightly as it bounced off the tile.
“No!” screamed James, running towards the commander. He tackled the sphinx, knocking him to the ground as the grenade exploded underneath them. For a long moment the duo lay there, intertwined, without the faintest movement. A thin river of red slowly trickled out of James’s chest, across the charred sphinx, and down onto the white tile.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dr. Nightrick raised his head u
p to look across the damp cellar at the figure sitting on the bench before him. The man gazed back, unblinking. There was something vague about him, as though the details of his face had been distorted after lying dormant in the doctor’s memory for so many years. Nightrick stared dead into the other man’s eyes, searching for the truth behind them.
“I suppose this was only a matter of time,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
Dr. Omar Karich nodded. “He’s pushed you beyond your limit. You should have seen this coming. Hallucinations are the first step on the road to oblivion. Too much Serum V will break even the strongest mind.”
“And now I have the pleasure of speaking to the dead.”
Dr. Karich smiled. “If only. What you actually have is the pleasure of speaking to yourself.”
“Same difference, I think,” said Nightrick, pushing himself up off of the rough stone bench. “It’s always very telling who shows up first when someone starts to lose their grip on reality.”
“I’m here because you blame yourself for my death. But that can’t be it, can it? You blame yourself for almost every death that’s taken place in your life. In some way, it’s always your fault, isn’t it? No, maybe it’s that you turned my son into a monster like you and forced me to help you do it. Is that it, John? Or perhaps it’s that you finally realize that no matter how long you manage to extend your own life, the specter of death is always there beside you, waiting. I’m the form that decay has taken in your shattered psyche. The undying meets the dead at long last.”
“If you are death, then you’re the only true companion that I’ve ever known. I don’t suppose you have any grand ethereal insights for me?”
“I’m afraid not. Your only hope now is that my son is able to save you.”
Nightrick shook his head. “If James is smart, he’ll stay far away from this place.”
Dr. Karich stood up, walking to the far end of the cellar. “They’ll come for you, John. They’d never leave their immortal king to rot in a place like this. They wouldn’t allow someone like Francis to kill their would-be god.”
“Mankind has a long and proud history of killing its gods. This is just one more example.”
“Perhaps. But if they do come for you, and they will, you already know what will happen. Francis will use you as a tool to dampen their attack. You’re his greatest shield against the might of your own empire.”
Nightrick scowled. “So what would you have me do? It’s too late to stop him now. Day in and day out we’ve been atop the Spire, preparing for the stabilization. He’ll have the Anomaly working soon, and then it won’t matter whether he has me or not.”
“Maybe,” said Dr. Karich, turning around to face his old student. “But without your help, he loses his shield and is delayed in obtaining his sword. Without you, there’s a window of time in which mankind might yet stop the Dread Lord.”
“You mean to say…”
“You know exactly what I mean to say, John. If you want to stop Francis, you have to climb to the top of the Spire and throw yourself down onto the rocks. It’s your life, or that of your people.”
The young woman walked down the long hall that stretched the length of the Terra Meridiani Capital Building’s twentieth floor. Red oriental rugs lining the ground absorbed the sound of her footsteps as she approached the locked door at the far end of the expanse. The two soldiers standing guard out front tilted their helmets just the slightest touch to regard the woman.
“Halt,” said the man on the left, raising his hand. “This floor is off limits until further notice.”
Director Jun Li frowned, crossing her arms. “I have explicit orders from Admiral Dorian to take the prisoner back to the Silica. Now you two assholes can stand here diddling each other all day for all I care, but I won’t have you keep the admiral waiting. Get out of my way.”
“There haven’t been any orders transmitted since yesterday. We’re going to need some proof.”
“Here,” she replied, tapping her datacuff and raising the screen towards the guard. “Can you read, or is standing pretty much the limit of your skillset?”
The soldier seized her wrist, adjusting the display. “Hmm. All the same, I’m going to have to call this in.”
“Don’t waste your breath.”
Before the guard could even raise his hand, she pulled the pistol out of her belt and fired three times into his chest. As he slumped against the wall, the second guard raised his coil rifle, but she knocked it aside with her palm. Another burst and he joined his comrade on the floor. She fired the rest of her clip into the locking mechanism on the door. The barrier slid open, revealing a lavish suite.
“Governor Zuma?” she called into the room. “It’s time to go.”
“Jun?” he replied, looking up from behind the desk he’d ducked behind. “Oh thank God. I thought Dorian was coming to finish me finally.”
She smiled. “Not yet. Follow me, if you would. We need to get away from here before the usurpers realize what’s happening.”
“But Kar…”
“I’ve already got Karo in the shuttle. He’s a bit drugged up at the moment because I needed to be sure that he’d quiet, but other than that he’s safe and sound.”
The governor nodded. “Then let’s go.”
The duo raced back down the empty hall, stepping onto the elevator at the end of the corridor.
“You parked up top?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, pushing the button on the glowing panel. “I figured there’d be less resistance coming down. Our friends in security are running interference, but they won’t be able to keep it up much longer. Luckily, Dorian hasn’t quite found his footing just yet. He’s probably got people on their way here, but by the time those bastards realize you’re gone, we’ll be on our way off planet.”
The elevator ground to a halt, opening on the abandoned roof. The governor spotted three black heaps as he raced towards the shuttlepad behind his security director. He climbed into the passenger seat of the small shuttle while Jun strapped herself in behind the steering column.
“And we’re away,” she said, engaging the launch thrusters. The shuttle lurched up, gliding off of the skyscraper. As they flew out of the colony, Governor Zuma craned his neck to the side, trying to find the head of the smoke column that continued to snake its way into the sky from the glassy remains of the refugee camp that had once stood against the horizon. From just below the cloud line, he still couldn’t see an end to the dark tower.
“Jun, did anyone make it through the strike? Were there any survivors?”
The security director bristled slightly. “Preliminary reports suggest there weren’t any.”
Zuma paled, leaning back in his chair. “What kind of madman unleashes an orbital bombardment that close to a civilian colony? If they’d been off course even a few inches, they’d have pierced the atmospheric regulator and killed every man, woman, and child in this city. And those poor people…,” he said, turning his head back towards the window facing the embers of the refugee camp. “Thousands and thousands of helpless souls vaporized, all while under my protection…”
“This isn’t your fault, Governor. You couldn’t have stopped him. Admiral Dorian will face the firing squad for what he’s done here. He’s gone too far this time.”
Zuma shook his head. “You don’t know Dorian like I do. He’ll never see justice for this. Why do you think the Sixth Fleet has cut intercolonial communication? They’re not doing it for the hell of it; they’re isolating us from Command. The ships orbiting above the colony aren’t reinforcing us, they’re blockading us.”
“Then what’s his next move?”
“Well, I would assume he’ll install one of his lapdogs as governor. I’ve no doubt he’ll be royally pissed that he missed his opportunity to finish me. From the very beginning he’s taken issue with my handling of the crisis.”
Jun nodded, brushing a strand of her straight, black hair out of her face. “And what of the boy?
”
“Dorian doesn’t know who Harin Karosh was, or he’d have never been so wanton. The name is common on Sphandaria. I’m guessing he assumed he was dealing with a peasant. If he realizes the truth and finds out about Karo, I can’t even imagine what he’ll do. I promised Harin I’d keep his son safe, and I intend to keep that promise. We need to get the boy off planet as soon as possible. The longer he’s here, the more danger he’s in.”
“And the same for you,” she replied, leaning over to swipe a command into the console resting between the two. A small map of the solar system was projected up just above the interface. “I don’t know whether Dorian’s decision to attack was impromptu or not, but he hasn’t set up a proper blockade. There are still large enough holes in his grid that we could slip a small ship off world without him noticing if we hurry.”
“Where were you thinking?” asked Zuma, leaning forward to get a better look at the holographic ships hovering in formation over Mars.
“Here,” she replied, pointing towards the massive energy line that raced out from the planet and towards the sun. “He’s kept his dreadnoughts a good distance from our Forge installations, probably because he’s trying to avoid bisecting his own fleet. From what we’ve been able to gather so far, his small craft patrols are primarily over the colony itself and the surrounding territory. He’s left a gaping blind spot. If we can get to Installation 03, we’ll be able to fly out along the same plane as the stability beam and go virtually undetected.”
“And how do we get there? They’ll have the colony under martial law shortly, and then there won’t be any way in or out.”
“That’s where I come in,” she replied. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I borrowed one of the engineering transports. As of right now, we’re engineers headed over to the installation for ‘repairs.’ Those bastards in the Sixth Fleet may be bold, but even they wouldn’t dare risk damaging the Forge. At the moment, our people are still in control of Installation 03. They’ll let us pass, and once we’ve gotten well away from the planet, we’ll veer off and head for Earth to warn Command.”
