The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Jared Paul

  Fossil looked up from the endless drop beneath the clear floor, "At first, yes, but I grew too loyal to the Overlord. I stayed for him. He was a good man. It's a shame what happened to the world when all he did was try to save it. Maybe that's the whole point. We can't save ourselves from destruction by anything we can make with our own hands. We have to look within and remember to never leave anybody behind. You and I both know how that feels and it's now our duty to remind the world to fight for something more."

  I wanted to ask what that something might be, but the lift came to a stop. The doors opened and Fossil stepped out. I didn't ask the question, but he gave me the answer all the same.

  "Love," he riddled. "It's love, Solomon. Trust in it."

  He then motioned me toward the core chamber, but he wouldn't dare follow. I turned around, but Fossil had slipped back into the lift. He was gone, leaving me with only one way to go. I stepped down an illuminated corridor and entered into a haze of light. The inner chamber of the pyramid was more bizarre than I anticipated. It was circular. Every inch of it was made out of tubes, wires, and component panels. The hardware seemed inactive, thick with dust. At the center of the room was a bare pedestal where the light source stood. It was the Wandering Star, hovering in midair like the wisps of violet lava. Behind it, the shadowed face of the Commander rose up to meet mine.

  "I'm sorry, Solomon," Zero softly began. "Ever since you first came to the Thralldom, I've always tried to be like a father to you. As of late, I'm failing."

  I debated in my attempt to avoid special treatment, "I'm not the only one who thought of you like a father and I know there's more than just me that you saw as a son."

  "You more than most, though," he put out with all sensitivity. "You're different. You don’t settle for the turning of the world. You try to evolve against it. It's a dangerous ambition, but one I respect."

  Voicing my concerns, I risked, "I want to evolve forward, not backward, but I'm beginning to believe that I'm in the wrong place for that."

  Matter-of-factly, Zero returned, "In the place that I was born, the Never Never of the old world, there were these bodies of water called billabongs. These billabongs were once flowing outlets of rivers and streams, but when the earth would change the course of the waters, they got separated, cut off from their source. These isolations, the billabongs, could flourish and sustain life for a short while throughout the year, but they were nothing more than dead ends. Eventually, they'd all dry up. Dr. Deadstock is just another billabong."

  "I won't believe that," I negated.

  "You know, mate, we're not really that much different from each other," continued Zero with an evil grin. "We're both traitors to those above us."

  "Maybe, but I thought you were a man who stood for humanity." I snarled, "I could never stand with a monster who fights against it."

  "Then become one who can fight for it in its favor," Zero direly suggested. "There are many kinds of magic out there, but there is only one magic that can save us. It is the magic of the heart, a magic of blood."

  The Commander unclipped his retractable machete and gloriously sprung out the blade. Sliding a palm over its sharp edge, he drew his own blood, made a fist, and squeezed. The blood poured out over his clenched knuckles and dropped into the Wandering Star. The violet flame devoured the fuel, glowing brighter as if becoming more energized. The whole dusty room around us then came to life. There was a great whirring as machinery blinked on with echoing beeps coming from everywhere. The core chamber was alive.

  Zero then stood back and I thought it best to do the same. Curiously, the Wandering Star was growing. It grew so big that it filled the entirety of the room. The Commander and I were both completely enveloped in the purple wisps of its flaming light.

  "Far Stranger," petitioned Zero.

  "At your command," resounded the voice of the intelligence.

  "Initiate the superconductor sequence," ordered Zero

  "Acknowledged," responded the Far Stranger.

  The Commander then grinned at me, "You may want to hold fast."

  The panels about us retracted into the floor to where the entire dimensions of the outer structure could be seen. The great pyramid then groaned out like the crashing of mountains. Violently, it vibrated. Through the transparent walls, years of overgrown moss and vines were being shaken off of the glass. In a spectacular commencement, the quaking pyramid then took off from its resting place as it slowly rose above the whole expanse of the Lair. Peeking out in all immensity over the forest vista, the distancing tree line appeared as nothing more than grass beneath a hovering giant. It was so magnificent and awe-inspiring, I almost forgot the horrors of the moment.

  Zero elated, raising his arms outward, "With just a few drops of blood, all this was possible." Gloomily, he then lowered his arms and turned to me. "Regrettably, though, my blood can only go so far. It's precious to me and I can only spare so much. Which is why I need you."

  "For what?" I sneered. "To become your beloved Space Wizard? You were never really a father at all, were you? You've been priming me to be your puppet since the beginning."

  "You've got it all wrong, Solomon," he countered. "The Space Wizard is already here. He's real. Even now, he's all around us, one with the Wandering Star."

  I wondered, "Who?"

  "You've heard his voice countless times," hinted Zero. "You've seen the potential of his power with your own eyes. It's been limited and we must set him free."

  "The Far Stranger," I collected with dread.

  He went on, "I don't need you to become the Space Wizard, but the Space Wizard will need you. I've brought you here to release the power source that flows through your veins."

  Horror overtook me. My ears deafened as my heart beat like a wild drum. I bolted back for the entrance to the lift, but I wasn't quick enough. Zero came tackling from behind, cutting off my escape. With the blade of his machete at my neck, he pulled me back into the chamber. Down the corridor, I saw Fossil waiting through the clear doors of the lift. He had just noticed what was happening and tried to come to my rescue, but he was quickly locked from the chance.

  "Far Stranger," Zero yelled. "Seal the lift and take it down."

  "At once," complied the ominous voice.

  Though I couldn't hear him, I could see Fossil shouting for me as the floor beneath his feet took him away. Soon, he was out of sight. Zero then hauled me back to the pedestal and prepared to spill my blood into the fiery essence of the Wandering Star.

  I labored to speak out in the intensity, "Why?"

  "No matter what I do, Solomon, evil always seems to remain," he said. "It's come to me that in order to destroy a greater evil, I have to first do a little evil of my own."

  "You can't hope to make something good by making a choice for others against their will," I struggled to spit out. "Start with a choice for yourself. Whatever your reasons are, there's got to be a better way than this. They call you the man who's not afraid of anything, but I've seen only fear these past few days. If you're going to kill me, then at least let me die with answers. What are you so afraid of?

  "The future," Zero said with grit. "What do you think Dr. Deadstock was doing in space for twenty years? Doesn't that make you wonder about the universe around us? Why has he chosen now to come back? Let's just say I've seen a few things that have led me to believe that we must defend ourselves against whatever revelation is out there. To do that, the world needs a weapon, whatever the cost."

  "Then pay for it yourself," I shouted back.

  Much to his surprise, I determinedly fought out of his huge arms. I untangled myself away from him and stole his machete from out of his hands in the process. I pressed the cold steel against his white skin and scraped his beefy flesh for a warning, cutting into his exposed neck. He didn't dare move, but I realized he had pulled a pistol out in the scuffle and it was already aimed out at me. Then, out of nowhere, the Far Stranger gave pause to the stalemate.

  "United Corps is approaching
," he stated. "Aerial forces are inbound."

  Disregarding our standoff, Zero angrily pulled away to look out through the transparent walls. Thinking he wasn't going to try anything, I backed away out of the chamber. Silently and with all speed, Zero took the opportunity to fire at me from behind. A painful wallop hit into my back and I felt the breath escape my lungs. I reached around to examine the damage. It was just a dart, but it was poison, all the same. I yanked out the needled projectile and my muscles began to seize up. Toppling down to the floor, I was conscious, yet completely helpless.

  Over by the windows of the chamber, I could see Zero's reflection in the glass as he smiled out wickedly. "Well done, Doctor," he whispered into the distance. "Well done."

  Beyond the clear walls of the pyramid, morning was just arriving through the clouds. Little black specks were flying in through the seeping light between the dark veils. It was the fleet of the United Corps. In the darkness of that ghostly dawn, they had come like wraiths, ready for battle.

  16

  THE BEAST OF BURDEN

  Ember Nightwood, reporting in again without withholding. The day we attacked the Lair, I was more than just President of the United Corps. Some leaders of the past never understood that authority must extend beyond physical requirements. A leader must also safeguard the hopes and dreams of its people. As my ship, the "Beast of Burden", led an aerial armada toward the Lair of the Thralldom, I thought to myself that this was the hour for fulfilling that obligation.

  Nobody was speaking, not a word, not even in mindless chatter. The United Corps fleet held itself in silent reverence as it sought to carry out our imperative task. The crew of my ship, as well as every crew, knew the stakes well. We each had something that was navigating our hearts as we flew across those skies.

  I cannot speak for anyone else, but I chose to think of the children back home. Such joy they could always find in the mundane freeness of dirt playgrounds and broken toys. Such hope they had.

  There is an invisible hope inside every child. They never know that it is there, but we mothers always do. Our children carry the hope of the future, the hope of life. That truth is what pushed me forward as I made my way to war.

  A war with the Thralldom could mean the death of all mankind. I knew that if the Free World fell beneath the power of the Thralls, the hope of our children would vanish. As my ship approached its dreaded destination, I found myself a mother first and a warrior second.

  The sky was dim and the clouds were shadowed as our fleet crossed the Thrall boundaries. Though it was morning, the Lair was shrouded in darkness. From out of these murky curtains, we were met with a barrage of their defenses.

  Ever since the Last Day of the Last War, the Thralls had been waiting for a chance to strike us. Now was their chance and we would be shown no pity. It would not be the truth if I did not admit that we of the United Corps had also been waiting for any opportunity to break the treaty, even from when the pact was first made. The day of war had come, at last, and it mattered not anymore who was stronger or weaker, who had more or less. For one side or the other, it would be utter death. One of us was finally going to be eliminated.

  The glassy forms of their angled aircrafts spun all around our bulky ships. The Thralls sparked out their best shots into our reinforced steel exteriors and taunted our fighters. It was an orchestra of fireworks across the clouds. Aerial engagements were breaking out all over. One on one, a few on one, or many on many, the whole battle was a scrambled mess of a thousand different engagements. Whether it was old squabbles or new frustrations, deadly appointments made long ago were being fulfilled. It was with all fury and no mercy.

  Though our engineering was antiquated, our outdated ships succeeded to get the best of the Thrall guns during the onslaught. Almost nothing could get past our hardened shells. The see-through ships of our enemy, as menacing as they looked in all their angles, were easily brought down. Tougher skins prevailed and the battle seemed to be in our favor.

  With every bout and bang, the fleet was working together for a singular goal, to clear a clean path for the Overlord. Down in the outer airfields below our battle, Deadstock and my daughter were on their way to secure the "Tomahawk." It was the only ship agile enough to penetrate the strongholds of the Thralldom. Thus, it was imperative that Sentria got herself back into the cockpit.

  Her custom ship had been pinpointed inside an old magma chamber, hidden along the ridge of the Lair. The entrance had been sealed, likely by Zero's doing. All of the lava tunnels connected, however, and another way in wouldn't be hard to find. As soon as they reached the "Tomahawk," they could use the ship's guns to blast the blockage away and fly out.

  Out of range and out of sight, I would have no idea what was going on down in that cave system. The fate of the theft was revealed when I finally caught sight of the axe headed ship as it soared out from the midst of the Lair.

  "This is the Overlord," radioed Deadstock. "Sentria has taken the ship. We're on our way!"

  "Good work!" I cheered. "The air's still pretty hot, though. Stay clear of that altar until we can knock out some of these aces up here."

  "Copy that," said Sentria as she banked her ship away.

  The ship's nose had been purposely designed to withstand a crash into another craft. For now, however, they'd have to play it safe. Like a wedge into the weeds, the "Tomahawk" plowed through the aerial battle, taking out numerous Thrall fighters as they flew from prime danger.

  Soon after, I caught a glimpse of something awful. It was out of the corner of my eye. Through the observation windows, I saw a white flash spark through the dark clouds. Lightning was cracking out, again and again. From the shuddering black puffs of cloud, the silhouette of a crescent moon flew out amidst its own thunder. The moon then headed straight for my ship. It was that which I had hoped I would never come to face. It was the Thrall flagship, a nightmare of a vessel, the "Lunar Wrath."

  Lightning struck out from its thinly curved edge. The flailing bolts reached for some of our smaller ships, nearby. Each of our fighters overloaded and burst into flames upon being hit. None of them even managed to put a dent into the flagship's hull before imploding. Back on the "Beast of Burden," not even our heavy guns were doing much damage.

  It was then that I realized there was only going to be one way to fight that soaring evil. We had to last it out, endure whatever punishment it could give until a door could finally be opened for us. None of our other ships could take it. It would have to come down to the sole opposition between our two behemoth ships.

  We came at each other. My ship's hull shook in the turbulence as the "Lunar Wrath" flew by. Our discharges nicked and scraped while they sprung lightning at us. Our two crafts then veered back around at each other. I ordered defensive tactics. The "Beast of Burden" fired back as our trajectories met once more. We passed by each other again as we sustained the necessary blows.

  A wingtip of the "Lunar Wrath" then carved into our side, screeching and scratching. Warning sirens rung out as its width cut into us. My officers bustled about in a panic, tinkering away at this screen and that. The ship was destabilizing rapidly and wasn't going to last another round. As our two ships swung back around to contend with each other once again, a reckless idea came to mind.

  Situated on the bridge of my ship, I called out to my operations officers, "Shut down the shields. Cut off every engine. I want all power reverted to the cannons. Begin supercharging every turret for one simultaneous volley. We're going to blast that infernal shard of plastic and glass into a million pieces. At my signal, we kick humpty dumpty off his wall! Does everyone copy?"

  Rightfully, one of them fought me on the insanity of the order, "Ma'am, the ship won't withstand! We'll be thrown into freefall!"

  "Then I guess we better hold onto something," I stated back without conviction.

  "Copy that! Shutting down all auxiliary powers now!" My pilot trembled as the "Lunar Wrath" progressed toward us. He then turned to me with a grave and wor
ried face. "President Nightwood, Ma'am, it's been an honor."

  "And it will continue to be an honor," I promised as I fearfully gripped the metal railing of the bridge while the whole ship went completely dark. The illuminated screens of all the consoles disappeared. The overhead lights sparked off. The ship paused in mid-flight and the steel of the hull groaned out.

  "Charging up all cannons," said the weapons officer.

  In a gradual descent, the "Beast of Burden" then began to fall from its place in the sky. It started out slow, but began to take speed very quickly as wind roared across the exterior of the ship. The whole bridge wobbled violently and I held on all the more tightly to the rail. My knuckles lost all color.

  The weapons officer shouted intensely in the upheaval, "Ready to fire in three, two, one! All cannons ready, Ma'am!"

  With every breath in me, I ordered through the cataclysm, "Fire!"

  As we plunged through the clouds, a torrent of impressive firepower blew out from our broadside guns. The rounds pierced through the "Lunar Wrath" like rocks into a sheet of ice. So powerful was our volley that the blasts went all the way through its clear, crescent contours. Exit wounds blasted through its main engine and the "Lunar Wrath" splintered apart in a mayhem of electric currents among slivers of its former shell.

  Avoiding being done for ourselves, we reverted power back to the engines. Rising up, we retook our place in sky. Not since before the days of the Last War have I heard so much cheering over our radios. If only for a moment, the Free World had just tasted their first victory over the Thralldom in nearly a quarter century.

  "They're on to us," radioed Deadstock, worriedly breaking the momentary triumph. "They're on our tail!"

  Swooping over to the observation window of the bridge, my eyes zoomed in to the "Tomahawk." Every Thrall ship that was not already being engaged had focused in on the little craft that carried our hope. I do not know how they were tipped off, but I am betting it was not hard for them to figure out our scheme.