With preparations nearly complete, Taylor glanced at his watch to look at the time: 12:09. Half the day gone with planning and prep, now came the wait. He positioned his men with great concern. His best snipers lined up on the catwalk high above the kill zone to get the best vantage to shoot from. The three barriers surrounding the kill zone were manned by twenty men along with the two remaining hybrid soldiers and himself, each manning one station.
As soon as the zones were ready, they were manned and on alert. Taylor wasn’t taking any chances on that thing walking out of here! As the constant din of the preparations died down and everyone settled in, the sound of the howling wind and the sand scratching at the metal walls of the hanger took over. The sounds were ominous as the storm picked up and the lookouts had to be moved inside. Visibility dropped to two hundred yards and lessening with each passing hour as the tension inside began to grow. The weather was perfect for an aggressor to hide his approach, which is why Taylor had set up the trap where he could control the conditions!
“Lights out in one minute!” he barked into his radio, giving the command for everyone to switch to night vision. “This fucker is coming, it’s just a matter of time until he shows!”
With a loud thud, the lights went out and left the entire hanger in darkness. All that was left was the howl of the wind and the groaning of the metal walls. Time seemed to stand still after a short while as the smallest sounds were muffled by the weather.
“Come on, you fucker!” murmured Taylor. “The hall is decorated, the music’s playing and your date is waiting; all we need is you and the party starts.” But there was no answer to his words, no grand entrance. Only the wind and the darkness were there as the heat in the hangar began to grow.
—
The setting sun cast an eerie glow over the desert valley, highlighting the blowing sand and the newly formed drifts. The entire base had battened down the hatches for the day early on, not willing to risk any experiments to the raging wind. It was as quiet as it had ever been on the base, a quiet that was soon to be short-lived.
Aen stood upright as the sand that had covered him fell and blew away. For nearly eight hours, he had sat unmoved as he kept an eye on the target below and planning his next move. After all these long hours trapped in the sauna which was the hanger, Aen figured the nerves of the soldiers below would be frayed enough to amplify any mistakes made in the heat of battle. A gust of wind caught him and blew the majority of the sand off his dusty form while grinding even more into his skin. He hadn’t planned on the weather, but it was the perfect way to add tension to those who waited for him below. From his back pack, Aen pulled a Lyarran battle helmet—a greyish covering with red highlights which slightly resembled an ancient Greek design—and donned it. The electronics in the helmet activated immediately and tied into his suit’s systems as the heads up display came to life.
His fingers grasped the plasma rifle tightly; this would be the first time he had wielded one of the Lyarran weapons and he hoped it wouldn’t fail him. He had found the weapon in the armory of the Amarra, and once he had a chance to examine the double-barrelled weapon he discovered its power cell to be long dead. So he had inserted a long shunt into his arm that reached all the way to his heart and connected it to the power supply line of the gun. This had given it more power than ever along with an inexhaustible source of plasma!
Raising the weapon, he took aim at the main hanger door and pulled the trigger. A white glow emanated from the twin barrels as the plasma charge built for a long range shot. The heat from the charge poured back at him, causing his dust covered jacket to smoke. Once sure that the charge was sufficient, Aen let go of the trigger and a bolt of energy sprang towards its target, streaking through the dim light of the sunset.
Then he breathed in deeply and felt his heart build up a charge—energy pulsed through his entire frame as he imagined standing on the catwalk above the trap set for him. The air crackled around him as he let loose the energy inside him and disappeared as the blowing sand around him dropped to the mountain top in the form of hot, liquid glass from the heat thrown off of him. The game had begun.
—
The heat inside the hanger was nearly unbearable, even the two hybrids looked drawn out from the stifling temperature. General Taylor fumed silently, muttering the odd obscenity from time to time—his patience had run out hours ago. Reaching down, he pulled his canteen to his lips and tried to take a drink with no avail; it was empty. Similar murmurs rose from others in the hangar; the water rations were dry and the soldiers nerves were pressed to the breaking point!
“I think the prick did this on purpose!” Wilson whispered from a few feet away, still in his position on the firing line. “I mean, we know he’s out there so why else would he just sit there and not come after us and the ship?”
Taylor grunted in response—he figured the answer was pretty obvious. In fact if the tables were turned, Taylor would do the exact same thing! It was a sound strategy considering the weather outside, and he felt the strain of the past day wearing him down. His shoulders and back ached from holding position for so long, so he finally relaxed for a moment to stand and stretch. Turning away from the trap, he reached out and flexed his arms to loosen the muscles—and that’s when the catwalk exploded before his very eyes!
“Target’s on the cat…” His words were cut short by the front of the building literally disintegrating behind them! The heat from the blast blistered his back and drops of molten metal flew in all directions lighting small fires as they struck. His legs buckled under the pain of the burns; Taylor fell to his knees before tucking and rolling to extinguish the flames from his smoldering clothes. As he rolled, he undid his body armour and flak jacket to save his skin from further damage.
Once free from the jacket, Taylor lay on his chest and slowly began to assess the environment around him. The front of the building simply didn’t exist any longer, leaving it to the mercy of the storm. Sand flew everywhere as the howling wind was the dominating sound. The rapport of gunfire was audible, but muffled and came from all directions along with the screams of the soldiers wounded or dying. Metal walls glowed from the blast that claimed the hangar front, with flames dancing about in the wind. In his mind, this was the closest thing to hell as he would ever see.
“Wilson!” he shouted into his collar mic, “Do you have a visual on the target?”
The only response he got was the crackling of random gunfire. It was sheer chaos; the trap had completely failed. Scrambling to his feet, he found cover and tried to reach his company again.
“Alfa lead to Alfa team, please respond.”
There was no response.
“Alfa lead to anyone, do you copy?” he hollered. “Are any of you still alive?”
There was a long silence, but the sound of gunfire told him at least a few of the men were still alive. Finally, his earpiece clicked twice, the silent answer for confirmation of orders. Taylor breathed a sigh of relief.
“Confirm Alfa lead, this is Alfa one; do you copy?” The voice was filled with fear, but he could tell it was Wilson.
“Avery, thank God you’re alive!” Taylor exclaimed. “What’s your status?”
“Explosion knocked us clear across the hanger! Five of my team is left and we’re holed up behind some debris at the back of the building. Can’t see the target, but we catch glimpses once in a while!” As the line was still open, Taylor could hear the crack of the assault rifles and shouts from the other members of the team.
“Any sign of our specialists Avery?” he asked in desperation. They were the ace in the hole; the wild card in this fight.
“One is stuck halfway up the north wall,” Wilson replied, “He’s got a section of the hanger door through his head and chest. Whatever part of him isn’t full of shrapnel is burnt to a crisp; he’s dead as dead can be!”
“Fuck! And the other one?”
“The body is about twenty feet in front of us; badly burned and face down. With all that sand blowing around in here I can’t tell if he’s dead or unconscious.” He grew quiet for a moment as he assessed the situation. “What’s the plan, sir?” he asked.
“Same as before: we kill that son of a bitch! But now, it’s a game of hide and seek!” A loud crunch sounded behind Taylor as a metal support beam was thrown across the room causing him to duck in reaction. “And we better start soon or he’ll bring the house down on us!”
“Affirmative!” shouted Wilson in response. “I think I’ve got his position nailed down, we’ve got him pinned down at the ship.”
For the first time since early this morning, General Jenson Taylor smiled. This was the break he had been waiting for the whole damn day, this was how he would finally right his great wrong! He reached into his belt pouch and slowly pulled forth a detonator—the explosives wired to the ship were his way of ending this mistake once and for all. His thumb flipped the toggle guard up to reveal the button and sneered.
“I got you now, you freak!” he muttered to himself before tapping his throat mic and yelling, “Fire in the hole!” Taylor’s thumb pressed the button and the hanger shook as the ship exploded like a blazing yellow sun, sending a shockwave throughout the interior that knocked everything and everyone down. The smoke was quickly swept away by the wind and sand blowing around the interior; nothing moved and other than the howl of nature’s fury, everything was silent.
—
Aen leaned back against the inside wall of the hatch of the Lyarran ship, his mind going over the events that had just occurred. Thinking with a moment of clarity as the noises of gunfire and wind were muffled in here, he began to piece together what went wrong.
As he teleported inside, he ended up face to face with a sniper on the catwalk high above the trap set for him below. The man didn’t have time to react to the intruder appearing before him as Aen reached out and snapped his neck with surgical precision. With his left hand, he held the dead man up and with his right he pulled the pins on the grenades in his vest before giving him a telekinetic push to land between the two other men lying in wait with their attentions below.
The result was catastrophic; the explosion detonated all explosives on all three men and tore the catwalk apart, sending twisted iron and shrapnel everywhere. Aen dropped to the floor below and took shelter behind some crates for what he only knew was coming next—the plasma bolt!
When it struck a few seconds later, it absolutely obliterated a third of the building itself and letting the chaotic sandstorm loose inside the hangar. That’s when a new aspect of his newfound power hit, and time itself slowed down! Rising up from cover, Aen began to notice he was moving at a normal pace, but everything around him was noticeably slower.
He watched as one of the soldiers made from his blood was in mid-flight and heading towards the back wall, his body engulfed in flame. As it impacted, a large piece of the metal wall followed him and sliced through the man’s torso and skull, cleaving the dying man nearly in two pieces and killing him instantly.
Without pause, Aen focused on the true objective—the captured ship—and began to make his way through the carnage towards it. Reaching a pile of debris, he picked it up with his mind and flung it in all directions to cover his approach and catch any of his adversaries off guard as they began to rise from cover. The sickly crunch of bone and a squish of flesh and blood let him know that at least one of the projectiles found a victim.
Then pain hit him like a sledgehammer as a couple rounds tore into his right side followed by one through his left thigh. Aen realized that he was right in the kill zone the soldiers had set up with no cover whatsoever! Round after round struck his body, ripping right through his body armor and tearing his flesh apart. Gritting his teeth, he used the pain to drive him forward, propelling his body towards the ship in a telekinesis-assisted lunge.
He struck the fuselage of the ship with such force that the craft slid a few feet across the concrete floor with a screeching metal sound. Falling on his back, he thrust some debris nearby and flung them at his assailants; striking three of them and killing them all. There was a body of a soldier beside him and Aen pulled his microphone and earpiece off as to get a better read on his enemy’s position. He dragged himself along the floor and into the back hatch of the craft to safety.
Back in the here and now, he felt his side and took note of the damage to his body. Holes and torn flesh were strewn about his frame, but with no blood to speak of there was little to show for the shots he had taken. But he felt every one of them—despite being immortal, he wasn’t immune to the pain that these attacks left and his body was riddled with immense pain.
He reached up and pulled off his helmet, letting it drop to the floor—the clunk of it hitting reset his perception of time and he looked around the ship for what he was after. Breaching the airlock, Aen ventured inside and searched the controls for the communication terminal. But all he found were stripped controls and loose wires. The assholes had torn the interior apart!
In rage, he reached out with his mind and flung some debris outside the ship towards the bunkers and resumed his search with more urgency. And that’s when something out of place caught his eye: a giant wad of C4 clumped under one of the control shelves. Looking around, he saw more and more explosives set in the ship. He had walked right into the real teeth of the trap! Instinctively, his heart raced and he drew up a telekinetic barrier to brace himself for the inevitable.
“You fucking asshole!” he muttered. “This isn’t over yet!”
He heard the telltale beep of the blasting caps receiving their orders to fire and his surroundings disappeared in a bright white light. The ship blew apart around him and was gone and the blast echoed in the darkened remains of the building, blowing the better part of the roof away in the process. Smoke and small bits of debris were carried away by the storm, revealing the Harbinger standing in the crater left behind. Aen was angrier than he could ever remember, and now he searched the rubble for survivors. Quickly, he slunk into the shadows and waited for movement. He would wait for his assailants to reveal themselves so he could go in for the kill, once and for all.
—
“Wilson, do you copy?” Taylor groaned as he lay face down on the concrete, his body covered with debris and sand. Dehydration had taken its toll on his body as his muscles screamed with every tiny movement. Instead of revealing his position by getting up, the General chose to stay where he was and wait for help.
“Wilson? Anyone? Is anyone still out there?” he called out into his microphone.
“Fuck me!” came the response.
“Who is this?” Taylor barked!
“It’s me, Wilson.” The voice said quietly. “We are all still here!”
“Are you in position to see anything? Did we get him?”
“Stand by.”
A few anxious moments passed as Taylor began to shuffle off his chest and raise up against the remains of one of the barriers.
“No sign of the target; the ship is completely destroyed!”
“Can you confirm the target is killed?” Taylor asked frantically.
The response came not from Wilson, but from the last being the General could possibly want to hear from.
“You missed asshole!” a voice growled over the channel. “Now it’s my turn!”
Taylor felt the wind lessen on his skin as a new sensation crept over him. A static like charge filled the battlefield and debris and rubble began to rise from the ground. Terror gripped his heart as he realized that all his efforts to kill this creature had failed, and now he was at its mercy.
The sound of gunfire echoed, but seemingly from a distance as a precursor to screams of pain and agony. Taylor watched as a Private was lifted from his hiding spot and strewn out to show all who might be watching. Then, chunks of metal and rock began to s
lice and batter him to death before his body was flung at the feet of the General.
One by one his men were plucked up, cut and pounded, then piled up before him. Soon there was a pile of eight bodies lying just feet in front of where he sat. Then it was Wilson’s turn to be dragged out—something he fought with every fiber of his being!
“Just kill me like a man!” he screamed at the hidden figure. “Let me die like a soldier should!”
“Why?” the voice from the darkness boomed. “Did you have mercy on me when I was at yours? Did you let me die like a man?”
Taylor shifted from his position and grabbed an assault rifle from one of the bodies. The creature had made its first mistake by speaking aloud; a few more words and he would figure out its hiding spot and take him by surprise.
A piece of metal struck Wilson in the shoulder, slicing him clean through to his back as the shard stuck out covered in blood. Wilson screamed in pain!
“Did you consider me a man or a lab rat when you snatched me from my life and tore my family apart?” The voice spit with hate and venom. “And now you ask for the honor of dying like a soldier, now you throw yourself at my mercy.”
A rock hit Avery square in the chest—the sound of his ribs cracking was heard by Taylor from twenty feet away. Blood poured from his lips as his lungs were punctured and filled with fluid. He was then thrown across the remnants of the building and skidded to a stop against a wall. Wilson lay unmoving, and Taylor presumed he was dead.
Taking aim at where he thought the creature was, Taylor began to squeeze the trigger when an RPG sailed over his head towards the darkness before exploding! Looking around frantically, he saw the last remaining hybrid soldier limp out of the shadows towards him holding an assault rifle with an RPG attachment on it. The man was almost recognizable; his features masked by horrible burns and scarred flesh. His fatigues were soaked with blood and were burnt black, but it ambled forward and launched another round. Taylor stood, taking aim to where the RPG rounds were striking and squeezed the trigger. Round after round of modified incendiary, alien metal bullets poured forth. The general smiled as he heard the rounds hit flesh and bone—soon his nightmare would be over!
Rise of Aen Page 21
