Black ergo-foam auto-conformed to her head and suctioned down, forming an airtight seal. Square and circular readouts outlined people, weapons, and areas of cover. Her eyes brought up the infrared and ultraviolet panel and put them on standby and she blinked into the visual port and made sure the optics matched her real vision.
"Does yours fit?" His helmet made him look like a well-to-do Picker.
"Perfectly. Let's go."
They ran back towards the mining exit, jumping over the dead meat on the floor that once guarded this place. She was covered in blood, thankful it wasn't hers, and she wiped the gore from her eyes and spat whatever tasted like copper out. They stopped and turned a corner. Her eyes broke open at the six armored blockades with pairs of troops aiming at them.
"Don't shoot! We just want to talk," the Martels said in perfect Demonic Fast-Food American. "About the girl."
He pulled her back.
"Get her!" One said. Thundering boots sprinted toward her. Sawyer pointed. *Run!* He said with his eyes. He motioned toward the western blast gates. Did he seriously want her to go out into the Land of the Nothing? His eyes cried out to obey him, and he spun, shooting at the incoming shadows.
She crouched and sprinted, her lungs aching for more oxygen. The emergency doors were sealed, and there was only one other path to get through. She ran to the black door and grabbed the dangling wires underneath the old keypad. She slammed her fist against the door. Only one thing left to do.
She focused, hearing Oracle White in her mind. The word became a flower to the sun, and in her consciousness, she brought up a warm knife in her hand. She spoke it and gave birth.
"Arkhe."
It hit the air like a bee sting. Ripples of quantum flux rippled from her lips as the energy struck the keypad. Planks began rearranging themselves, fixing old, broken circuits. Probabilities shifted over and moved. The once inoperable keypad now worked, because it had to work.
As the Knights came around the corner, the door whisked open, and she dove across to the other side. The door slammed shut again, and the panel next to the door sparked red and zeroed out.
Despite the deafening klaxon alarms, her hearing was coming back. Victoria got to her feet and kept running. Must find the exit. He gave his life for me. They all did. Another sign up ahead demarcated Medical, Western Blast Doors, and the B-08 Grav Tram entrance. She spun on her heel and bolted left.
When she hit the end of the hallway, not only were they closed, they were welded shut. She turned around and started back when she saw her pursuers had caught up with her.
Dr. Bells stood at the forefront, and when she saw his P-12 battle armor she knew her FR-1 rifle would be useless against him. Some of the Knights weren't wearing helmets and had built-in tech augments over their eyes and nose. The jerk wanted something. No, the maggot needed something.
"Cadet Victoria Tesla. I am so glad we found you. Come with us back to the Institute. This is all a misunderstanding on our part, I assure you. Come. Point the rifle down and follow us." His hands went up, palms out.
"I don't think so."
"You do not even know these people you want to help, Cadet. They are terrorists. Genetic abnormalities. These are to be swept aside by the last decree from St. George. Come. Everything will be okay."
"Arkhe," Victoria said.
The flechette rifles shut down, their electronics sending Plank pools from their emergency reserves into their main cortex, shorting them out. She swiped her eyes across the Martels who were still wearing their helmets and they all clamped, tightening down.
Dr. Bells screamed as it pressed harder and harder against his clavicle as it malfunctioned, "Get it off, get it off!"
Victoria checked her rifle's functionality before raising it up and shooting two of them. The shots bounced off, ineffectually. They surged forward.
One pile drove into her, sending her crashing to the ground, but she held on to the pistol grip of the rifle. She threw the woman off, did a crunch, and fired twice, cutting small nicks in the armor at point blank range. The next one fell on top of her with his arm in front of his face, his forearm cracking into her front plate.
She twisted her hips, but he was too heavy. She gasped for air, pounding on him with everything she had and head butted him full force, square in the nose. He closed his eyes and she rolled out from under him. She fired a burst into his head, it melted through a few layers of his armor. The other Knights snatched her weapon away, tossing it down the hall. She fought them, using every martial form she knew, and got destroyed. They tore off her open-faced helmet and vest and punched her repeatedly in the face, breaking a few of her bottom teeth.
Dr. Bells slid his helmet off and shook his head from side to side. He averted her gaze and looked around the room to the Knights. Then he folded his arms and spread his legs out.
"You made a grave mistake, Cadet." He marched over to her and kissed her deeply in her mouth, his tongue finding hers. She tried to bite down, but he grabbed her neck right before she did.
"Tasty. Just like I remember. If you keep fighting like this, I'll rape you here in front of my boys and give them a round each. So you best watch your filthy little tone. Animal. You come from trash. When was the last time I treated you sexually to my splendor? Too long, I think." He reached down and undid his belt.
"Fuck you. You are so sick. There is something evil inside of you that makes you do this. You don't have to act like this. Go to a church and confess. It's not too late." She shook and prayed this wasn't going to happen to her.
"St. George, you make me hard. Boys and girls, hold her down while I fuck this slut." He dropped his pants.
"Please!"
A man strutted over to her with a rubber gag and shoved the ball into her mouth, tying the neo-leather in the back. He pushed Dr. Bells to the side and grabbed her hips. The plastic tasted like someone's sweat and bad teeth. Her tongue recoiled away until she gave up. He rubbed on her and licked his lips.
"Listen," he whispered. "I'm going to kiss you and give you something in your mouth. If it gets too bad, bite down on it." He made a big show of what he was about to do and kept staring at Dr. Bells. Victoria tried to cry out. Please make this stop. Please...
Then the doctor moved up and pushed the man aside. When he did, she heard a crunch inside his mouth. His eyes expanded, and he spit a capsule out of his mouth. He sprinted off into the darkness. All prospects of evading the rape were gone.
"Take her clothes off. I want to see her fully again. Boys and girls, come see this specimen. This is what you call good American breeding. What's left of these animals can come to look like this if they breed under the right conditions and have a large influx of our superior St. George genes. See her hair? Less than five percent of Americans have blond hair." He ambled over, moved on her, and started kissing her. She bent her head and he started licking the side of her face.
His penis was hard and pressed up against her and if she could just get something to kill him with, that would be great. She closed her eyes and made herself ready for whatever was to come next. They weren't going to kill her. They were going to bring her in. Better to die here.
Then they appeared, teleporting in front of her eyes. They were behind her, wearing all black. They had an embossed American flag on the right breast, black Sinsii goggles, and some kind of advanced rifle which looked like a mix between a Fusion Rifle Mark 3 and an old bull-pup .75mm blister cannon. As they emerged from the shadows, they fired short beams of hot red death, smearing brains and blood all across the hallway. She watched Dr. Bells there one minute and then he was gone, escaping out the back the next. The shock froze her. She looked for something to throw but fell back down feeling sick. Her baby moved inside her. His baby. Theirs.
Behind her, four, two men and two women wearing modern nano-thermal P-12 armor. The women's hair was tied back in a ponytail, one blond and one magenta and the men were clean-shaven and bald. The timing was surreal, but him escaping, running away, caused
her to shove one of the men. He grabbed her and held her.
"We are evaccing you, but we are going to need your gift. Do you understand?" The magenta said.
"Who are you?" Victoria pleaded through tears.
They answered simultaneously, a fractional waveform bending the quantum fabric. "Your parents." The magenta pulled back and gave Victoria space.
"Move. Cutting through the ceiling." One of them men said. He threw up a body-sized clamp biting into the Plasstien ceiling and spun it clockwise, pushing up, and pulling the man with it. When he broke through the ceiling he lobbed a grenade in and popped through the hole. They maneuvered down emergency hallways, red lights circulating above until they came to a room where the ceiling had collapsed, and the light from the sun radiated down through the rubble. The air was warmer outside, and it smelled good-day clean.
"Go. Climb out. Here. Take this water and food with you. We'll make sure you get away." The man with the drill said. They all crouched down and guided Victoria up out of the ruins.
"Where should I go?"
"This passage will lead you out into The Land of the Nothing, a Pre-Times zone acting as a barrier between us and everywhere else. Don't stay in there long. Go to the outside of the right zone in Section H to Site 66. It will be a long trek. Days. Avoid the dark places at night and avoid direct sunlight. Don't drink the water unless you treat it and watch for wild neo-animals and ferals. When you arrive beyond The Land of the Nothing, keep this on you at all times until you need it." In William Fire script, the writing read "Arkhe" in small print.
"What is it?"
"It's your future. Go. There isn't time. We'll find you once you get past The Land of the Nothing. They will tell you more. Don't forget we love you, Victoria Tesla. We all do. Never stop fighting for what's right. Now go. Don't stop until you get to the other side."
Victoria started the climb outside the hole, upwards towards her freedom with the Arkhe chit in her gripping hand. The sun shined.
She looked up into the sky. In "The Moon" fairy tale, once upon a time, a place called Moon was high up in the heavens, and could only be seen at night because it hid when the sun was out. The Americans had once landed there from their own world and built a massive city, housing millions of people who lived in perfected contentment. Sounds like a good place to move.
27 For King and Country
D.K.E.
Year 318-324
In the middle of John's junior year, he was pulled from class and marched to a private office. Their plain uniforms, without a name badge, medals, or markings of any kind made them look like civilians dressing up. One of them dropped an E-Reader in front of him and activated the device.
"Cadet Rex. You have been chosen to enlist in the prestigious 2nd Sun Tank Division, 'For King and Country.' We maintain extreme levels of excellence, bravery, comradeship, and for this, we are the King's dagger in his most intense ops. What is the problem? You look like you just came down with Cherokee Fever."
"Sir, I expected to be a MECHA pilot with my scores. I am honored at your offer but..." He flicked the E-Reader off.
"This is not an offer, this is an order. Did you think once you graduated you would just be able to avoid the needs of the Kingdom because of your own selfish desires? Why do you think they spend so much money on the likes of you? So you can do what you want? You've been given a great honor! Now turn this E-Reader on and watch our promotional vid."
The screen came to life and their phrase glowed in front of a grav tank. A woman walked forward from a battlefield into view. "We pride ourselves in discipline."
The image changed to two men picking up a piece of melted Plasstien. "Working hard together, fighting as one." And they changed again, each phrase showing an element they wished to display. John's boredom and disappointment melded together.
"Is there not some way to appeal this?"
"What the fuck did you just say? There is nothing to appeal."
John spent more and more time with the 2nd during 12th grade and was released early from school to begin training as a fill-in 2nd lieutenant. The work was easy, and soon he was commanding from the field. Out in the cold and far from the front, he spent his time learning commands, the control terminals, sec phrases, and leadership skills. He worked constantly and spent most of his time away from the Institute. When he was in school, the staff treated him like one of their own.
Neil Nirvana graduated 16th in his class and was voted to be most likely to be arrested first for public intoxication or disorderly conduct. Yet despite his constant write-ups and rebellion against authority, Neil got the job he wanted and was selected for law enforcement duty. Before graduation, they drank as much as they could find and felt hung over the next day, popping endless breath mints and puking their guts out. The ceremony was tedious and John's heart filled with joy to finally be leaving. But his mom was there to see him march at the front of a platoon and give a speech about the King. That made the affair perfect.
Chester Floormat, aka Koala Joe, started getting into trouble his junior year and stayed on the bad side of the administration for the remainder of his stay. During his senior year, four of his close friends were caught smuggling in designer drugs and American-made, odorless booze. They were all arrested and sentenced to 5 years hard labor. None of them ratted him out, and Chester became the big dealer on campus, always one move ahead of security. Neil and John wrote him off. Three months before graduation, he was caught in the shower with another student and they expelled him for sexual impropriety. It didn't faze him. Not one bit.
* * *
D.K.E.
Day 101
Year 322
2nd Sun Tank Division (For King and Country)
2nd Division Commander: Marshal Richard "The Mad" Paign
1st Battalion Commander: Duke Phillip Sternwood aka Duke Stern
"Take a seat. I was told the donuts are fresh, and I hope you like your tea black," he said eliciting an earlier morning laugh. The Duke folded his hands behind his back and stood at center stage.
"Many of you received orders recently that have been superseded by Marshal Paign, and as you know, many of our recent campaigns were not as successful as we had hoped. Lt. Rex, come and step forward."
John stood, adjusted his uniform, and advanced to stand next to the shorter Duke. Being in this proximity of royalty forced his chin straight. As far as he knew, he was the youngest Captain to ever be promoted in the division, but they never addressed it. If only his mother could be in the room.
"This is Lt. Johann Edward Rex who is now, officially, promoted to Captain. Congratulations." A sergeant rose and produced a rank box for the Duke. He opened it, took out the Captain's bars, removed the lieutenant bar, and pinned on his new rank.
The promotion blindsided him. How much more training was there? He couldn't be qualified for the rank of Captain. His contract lasted only two more years, and he mulled over their reenlistment plan. Being promoted would be nice, the Edwards definitely needed. Perhaps property would accompany the offer? No, the military didn't suit him. Not after witnessing it in person. The reality far exceeded the simulations.
"Thank you, sir. It is an honor and privilege of serving with the 2nd. For King and Country."
"For King and Country," echoed the room.
"Please take your seat."
John saluted the Duke and went back to his chair.
The promotions continued for another two hours. When he saw the destruction from the last offensive, he couldn't believe it. Everyone getting promoted made sense. Only 15 functioning grav tanks remained, and they weren't in the best of condition either. But with good gunners, the right personnel, and most of all, accurate intel, taking on a few Saxon MECHA's was possible. But the intel had to be good—better than the data they'd been processing.
"To those that might be wondering, we lost a great deal of personnel over the last week and are making some drastic changes. The King is counting on the 2nd's tenacity and record of resili
ence to end this new crisis. You are now going to receive an E-File you will read and authorize. This is your new job with us. We tried to leave you in the same types of positions, but the needs of the division come first and always will." No one disagreed.
* * *
D.K.E.
Day 002
Year 325
After battling the American Fungal Cough for four weeks, John's grandmother on his father's side and heir to the Rex Fortune, Margaret Rex, died. It happened on the second day of the year 325 at 6 a.m. and John was the one who unceremoniously unplugged her. The bio-machines stopped working, and her soul was cast free from her ailing body. He let the St. George priest administer her last rites before they both prayed The Rebirth Prayer.
Margaret's attorney transmitted a message to John about a possible inheritance, and he was surprised to read how much. Receiving this much for doing nothing didn't seem right, but with this amount perhaps he could put the night terrors and close calls to rest. His sanity would thank him. His trusted officers and NCO's had been blown to bits or burnt alive in terror fire bombings, and the 2nd was becoming a human grinding death pool. Morale had dropped to nothing, and the NCO's were dolling out public lashings every other day. He'd seen enough. Even if he wanted to stay in, they wouldn't let him stay.
He reported to the Death Center and filled out the necessary forms. A simple digi-message was set to broadcast upon receipt of payment. "I am sorry," Margaret said. Her wrinkles cracked through her make-up and gave her a somewhat hideous appearance. He hoped his mother had better sense than to record a message like this looking like that.
"Keep your mother safe. She loves you with everything. Your father was a failure, but that does not mean you must follow in his wake. He died before you knew him, and this has turned out in your best interest. I fought against sending you to the Institute, but The Kingdom's power far outweighed mine. I always loved you, grandson, and I wished I had been able to visit you or get to know you better. Your mother took great efforts in shielding you from the rest of the family."
The Arkhe Principle (Book Book 1) Page 18
