by Tex Leiko
The battle lasted less than an hour by the time they were all put down. The storm was coming to an end and now Crimson’s voice was in his head again.
“Look, I realize there might be a second wave or some stragglers, but I am withdrawing my support. I need it back here.” Her voice sounded frantic.
“No problem, everything is fine here,” Zarfa said.
The communicator went dead and Zarfa got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Remnants of fighting continued for a while longer, but finally, all of the Faraza were dead. Zarfa suffered minimal losses on his side and spirits were still high. Everyone was celebrating the victory and ready to head back to Ilyeion.
Those that were loyal to Zarfa planned to follow him to Alexarien to pay back Crimson for what she had done for them. Those who had only wanted revenge planned to return to Ilyeion and live the rest of their lives peacefully.
Zarfa could see on the horizon those who were getting back within the city limits of Ilyeion before him. He could also see a line of Ilyeion military tanks stretching out for miles. Many were too slow to realize what was going on as the first shots fired into the crowd.
The shells fired would bounce off of the ground and burst into thousands of searing balls of burning shrapnel. The first battery of shots fired killed several thousand before anyone realized what was going on. Zarfa had imagined a celebration host by the grateful populace of Ilyeion, yet he was greeted with violence from their military. Screams of fear and crippling agony filled the battlefield as bodies dropped lifeless to the ground.
They fought like cowards, seeking to eradicate this militia that had protected them from the Faraza when the government was too weak or cowardly to do so itself. Now, they were the very ones destroying the unlikely rebellion that had brought them salvation from oppression.
“Run! To the caverns underground!” Zarfa exclaimed, checking to be sure Zajifa and Sarah were close by.
“Why are they attacking?” asked Sarah as she followed Zarfa and headed for the entrance to the Faraza base.
“I don’t know! Maybe…” He trailed off as his mind wandered to the thought of Crimson double-crossing him.
He quickly dialed the number for her communicator on his wristband and eagerly awaited her answer. There were shouts of terror and agony behind him as he and a scattered crowd ran toward the caverns for salvation. The communicator rang and rang, but there was never an answer.
Chapter Eighteen
Max, Bloodshed
Max had somehow managed to get in an hour of sleep before he got ready for his day. Only minutes remained until he would be making his way to Synaptix to end them once and for all. Crimson was directing storms toward Zarfa to act as a weapon of destruction and wouldn’t have answered him even if he spoke to her, so he didn’t bother with any parting words.
Max was wearing full body armor, some of the best that money could buy. He even donned a helmet that covered his whole face, complete with a rebreather that would negate almost any kind of anti-riot gas he may encounter. His goal was simple, travel sixteen miles west of the apartment to Synaptix Co. Ltd. Headquarters, located in the trade district of west Alexandria. From there, he, along with any members supporting Crimson’s cause, would storm the building.
He planned to catch the ones in control of the corporation off guard in their offices and kill them. Following that, he would make his way to the exit, clear the building, and set charges to topple it. After he had destroyed Synaptix, he would start his journey to the Polyhelix headquarters.
Polyhelix was located ten miles north east of Synaptix in the eastern corporate district of Alexarien. By this point, Max imagined he would have a large crowd following with him, but that military and police would already be on defense with a counter attack. He had no idea how many supporters he would have, or if they would scatter upon meeting opposition, so he made a contingency plan in his mind to travel in the sewers if things got too hot above ground.
He mulled the plan in his mind over and over until he was resolute. He finished gathering anything he thought he might need. Grenades, charges, plasma blades, a gauss pistol as a side arm, plenty of ammo, and his trusty sniper rifle that had served him well in a previous battle.
Max waved at Crimson engrossed in controlling the storms. She was now reassuring Zarfa over a com-link conversation. He blew her a kiss that he doubted she saw as he turned and left.
When Max made his way to the street, he found a hovercraft that Crimson owned. He got in and started it up. The radio was blasting her message to attack on every station. Max knew that the video feeds were also broadcasting her message. He could see smoke from fires that raged all over town and didn’t know if this was a good sign or not.
He was driving quickly toward the Synaptix headquarters and everything was going smooth so far. He was roughly six miles from Synaptix when he saw a mob of people rampaging in his same direction.
As he looked closely, most of them had a red “C” tattooed somewhere on their body. They were his allies, yet they were acting in a manner not befitting trained soldiers. They were setting fire to buildings, striking innocents in the streets, even killing them.
Those inspired by Crimson came in every size, shape, color, gender, age, occupation, and creed. They all believed in her ideal of change, but had no one to take the reins and show them how to accomplish their goal. They had a final destination, destruction of Alexarien’s government.
Unfortunately, what that government was represented something different to each person in the crusade. Some understood it was a militant government and that was what they should strike. Others were less educated and saw anyone not on their side directly as their enemy. Quickly, this idea of a cause for change and a rebellion to get the power back into the people’s hands had turned into a violent mob.
The mob was like a disease traveling quickly through the city, destroying everything in its wake. Even some groups supposedly fighting for the same purpose would stumble upon each other, and instead of embracing one another as brethren of the same intent, they would open fire on one another.
The whole thing was a disaster. Crimson wanted to generate more than chaos in Alexarien, but unfortunately, that was all she succeeded in doing. Max was driving quickly toward Synaptix when he came to this realization. He also realized he was not branded with the mark, and even if he were, it probably wouldn’t help him.
Those he expected to be his supporters were nothing more than a lot of angry, violent, bloodthirsty cowards. Prone to mob violence and vigilantism. This is hopeless. We won’t take down the government, Max thought over and over in his head. But I can destroy these corporations.
He drove with fervor, zigzagging on the road, not stopping even for traffic lights, until he came to a pile of burning hovercrafts blocking his path. They had been upturned and set ablaze. Shocking, an entire mob of Crimson’s cronies to blame for this, he thought as he saw the crowd coming toward him.
Max drove his vehicle straight at them and bailed out the driver’s door. The craft plowed into the crowd as he rolled to his stop. Telling them I’m a friend I am sure is useless, he thought, springing to his feet and throwing a plasma grenade in their direction. The grenade exploded and vaporized the wrecked vehicle and hundreds in the crowd.
They screamed in horror and fear; a few in the mob shot at Max with their weak civilian weaponry. The bullets ricocheted off of Max’s armor and the few that felt brave enough to challenge him quickly lost their gall and fled with the rest.
Well that was easy. Only three miles to go from here. Max took off on foot. He was weighed down by everything he was carrying and it was very laborious for him to get there. He had made it on the other side of the barrier of burning crafts and he could see that there were many more mobs raping, pillaging, murdering, and generally destroying everything in their path.
The police force was mobilizing and trying to put down the riot, but they were overwhelmed. Some of the members of the riot were themselves officers
of the law. And these are the people I was trying to save from oppression of the government. They act like dogs or worse. No wonder such a tight leash was put on us.
He shook the thought from his head and proceeded toward his destination. He was a lone traveler and anyone could see he was heavily armed. For the most part, small groups stayed clear of Max, but the occasional mob would rush at him and he would have to kill a few to make his point. So far, he was doing okay standing on his own.
Max heard the noise of a hovercraft zooming up behind him when he realized he was still on the roadway. He turned and saw it jetting straight at him, clearly someone bent on running him down. His eye locked onto the driver and he raised his rifle. One shot and the bullet blew through the driver’s head.
Max sidestepped the craft as it blew past him, eventually coming to a stop. Three others piled out of the car and opened fire on Max with their weak pistols. Max stepped up to the two in front and grabbed them both by their dominant arms. With a quick jolt, he snapped them both. The third had already retreated from what he deemed to be his early demise.
He stepped over to the driver’s seat, pulled the corpse of the driver out, and heaved his body on to the other two men who were just crying, holding their broken arms. Max hopped into the car and sped toward Synaptix. Two more miles.
Tears ran from Max’s one real eye as he saw the horrors that Crimson’s good intent had caused. Piles of corpses were forming in the streets, men, women, children, elderly, it didn’t matter. It was absolute chaos with no end in sight. The city would tear itself apart and there would be nothing left even if Zarfa were able to transport his army here over night.
Despair filled his heart and his breathing became heavy. He felt guilty. He’d known his intentions were good when he backed Crimson. He’d known the revolution would be full of bloodshed. He just hadn’t expected it to be so many innocents. He envisioned this going much differently and was sure that Crimson had too.
His gut wrenched as he saw a girl no older than twelve running from a group of men. She was about three hundred feet from him and leaping over the barrier into the roadway. He turned his vehicle in her direction. The men were scrambling over the four foot barricade that partitioned the road from the sidewalk.
Max slammed the craft into the partition, immediately killing four of them. The girl was behind the wrecked vehicle, standing in the roadway, crying. He leapt from the vehicle and pulled his pistol. His eye locked on to three men rushing him, screaming threats and curses at him.
Rapists masking their intentions by picking up Crimson’s noble cause. I should have known these weak and beggarly people would arise from the gutters. I should have known it would turn out like this. Why wouldn’t it? With no organization or direction, what was to keep the dregs out? I’ll bet we recruited more drug dealers, rapists, murderers, addicts, and all around scum than we did anyone with any true sense of nobility.
His thoughts left him as he fired three perfect shots into each man’s head. One had made his way behind Max before he realized it and leapt onto Max’s back. The man was trying to pry his helmet off to render Max vulnerable.
Quickly, Max grabbed the man by his shoulder with his left arm. In one quick toss, he had launched the man thirty feet. He hit the ground tumbling. Max spotted the red “C” on his neck and sent a bullet flying though it as if it were a target.
“You don’t have the right to bear her mark!” he screamed in fury.
The two remaining men turned and ran, fleeing his vengeance. Max ran around the craft and jumped over the barrier, spotting the men trying to run into a building to lose him. His eye locked targets and he put them down with two more precise shots.
The girl was still crying in the street, hugging herself. She was bloodied and had a black eye. She had no doubt already been victimized terribly before she was able to make a break for it. Max felt the guilt of the pains she had suffered.
“The name is Max. Stick with me. I’ll keep you safe,” he stated firmly as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
She jumped and screamed. Her sobbing got louder as she brushed away his hand.
“What is your name, girl?”
“Xivah.”
“Who were those men?”
“One of them was my brother.”
Disgusting, wretched cowards.
“They— They—” she stuttered.
Deserved it, cowards.
“You don’t have to say. I have an idea. Look, trust nobody. Not even family anymore,” Max said, handing her the pistol.
She clutched it in her hand and continued to sob. Max handed her all of the magazines he had packed for it.
“It isn’t much; find shelter. Maybe in the sewers. Trust nobody and shoot them if they give you the slightest reason to. I am sorry, I helped cause this. I intend to never stop until I see it set straight,” he said, sounding like a champion of righteousness.
“Thank you,” she managed to mutter through the tears as she turned and ran into a building.
By the time Max arrived, all of the individual mobs had merged at the doorstep of Synaptix. People were pushing and shoving to get inside. As if that will accomplish anything. Synaptix had a security force at the facility that barricaded the entrance and were firing on the crowd, killing as many as they could.
Max, seeing that the frontal approach would be useless, circled a few blocks to a side alleyway that would take him up to the building. The alley had been blocked and few were trying to make their way into the building from this entry point.
He was repulsed by the things he had seen earlier and now he had a pile of debris and a small crowd of Crimson’s rioters between him and a clear side path to the Synaptix building. Without warning, he tossed a couple of plasma grenades into the crowd. Before anyone realized their impending doom, they were vaporized. Max felt nothing for the lives he took.
Some of them could have been good people. Some of them could have been those we were seeking to inspire. But it is true that a little rot can ruin an entire feast. All I have seen today is rot. I expect them to be no different.
He walked mechanically through the mist left behind by those he had just vaporized and right up to the side of the Synaptix building. He could set a charge here powerful enough to topple the building, but something was calling him inside, beckoning him. He could feel it almost as if it were in his thoughts.
Max punched the building as hard as he could. The wall cracked and he punched it again. A few blows and the wall came crashing down. He was inside the building and by now, the drain that his biotic arms had on him was taking effect. He ate a few meal bars as fast as he could and proceeded down the corridors.
The building was too quiet for his liking. It was on total lockdown with guards at the front firing onto the angry mob of rioters. However, he had yet to see a soul. He made his way to an elevator and promptly got into it.
Looking at the buttons, he couldn’t help but notice that there were only six floors. The building, judging by the outside, was at least thirty stories. Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt that beckoning presence once again. Without thought, he allowed his hand to go toward where he felt he was being guided. Fourth floor.
The elevator was quiet as it took him to the top. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, preparing for what may lay in wait. When it stopped, it made a ding and Max opened his eyes. The doors opened up and he raised his rifle, ready to fight armed guards. There was nobody there.
He stepped cautiously into the hallway before him. There were a few offices branching off from this main hallway with a large door at the end of it. He didn’t bother more than a glance in through the windows of each office as he headed down the hallway. They were all empty.
He reached the door; it was solid, Kelmantrium. He felt something inside of him that told him the walls had a barrier of this solid material behind them and that a forceful attempt would be futile. He placed his hand on the handle of the door and pressed down. T
o his surprise, it wasn’t locked.
He pushed the heavy door open only to have it open up into a grand sight. Before his eyes there was a room that towered at least twelve stories up. There were spiral staircases on either side of the room. Directly in front of him, spanning from wall to wall, was a computer terminal that loomed above to the ceiling like a monolith of titans.
Max stepped toward the terminal and felt that beckoning within himself. Slowly, he realized he had been under the power of suggestion ever since he made it to Synaptix headquarters. He wanted to stop and examine the room more, but his feet were leading him directly in front of the terminal. As he got closer, he saw what must be beckoning him.
In the center of the room attached to the colossus computer was a human brain, four times the regular size, suspended in some strange black liquid. The top of the container was open and wiring ran from the brain to the computer. Max stopped a few feet in front of it.
“Congratulations on making it this far, Max Hall.”
The words invaded his mind, but they were indefinable. It sounded as if a hundred different people were all screaming the same thing at him in absolute synchronicity.
“It will be hard for you to hear me without the Psyker modifications,” the voices made out in his mind.
“What do you want?” he shouted in panic.
“You killed my children. You set back my plans by decades. I want atonement.”
Max noticed his arms were removing his helmet involuntarily. If he focused with all of his attention, he could counteract it and move by his own volition. If he let his mental guard down, he was controlled by powers of suggestion. He had a feeling it was emanating from this talking brain.
“What children? Who are you?” he asked as his helmet was removed and clattered to the floor.
“Oh, I guess I can tell a dying man the secret that nobody should know. My name is Kris Asimov. Does that name ring a bell?”
