by Chris Harris
Eventually, Rals pointed out the formerly-white armour of Admiral Fairns, who was speaking with Otor. While Otor seemed calm for a change, Fairns seemed to have lost it, shouting animatedly at the Adjeti. As Maron drew closer, Fairns abruptly stopped and turned to face him. “Maron, Rals. What news?”
Maron opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again; where the hell do I start from?
Rals looked sideways at Maron, before Otor turned to him. “You. Kid. What happened?”
Rals looked nervously at the Adjeti, before stuttering his version of events. “We found Xaosians trying to escape. Th-they...we killed them...” He trailed off.
Otor looked at Fairns, then at Maron, who nodded. “We killed them.” Maron's voice was steeled. “And then they were alive again.” He let that sink in for a few minutes. Otor seemed enthralled and intrigued, whereas Fairns gave him a look of disbelief.
“Alive again?” Fairns's tone was mocking, almost patronising. “Are you sure you killed them?”
“Of course I fucking killed them.” Maron hissed. “They died! I watched them die! They have a thing implanted in their brains,” He rustled through his pockets, producing the two eggs, “these things. They control the Xaosians before and after death via some sort of... I don't know, maybe some sort of Xaosian network or something. The only way to stop them is to damage or remove these things.”
Otor held out his hand and Maron gave him one of the eggs. Otor brought it up to his face and examined it, turning it over and over in his palm. “A lot of Xaosians have these.” Otor observed. “From my time among them, I noticed these things; I thought they might have been inbuilt com units, but evidently not. What is curious, however, is that Xaos has one too.”
Maron felt his brow furrow. “So Xaos is also being controlled?”
Otor nodded. “Certainly seems like it.” A thought struck him. “I remember, on Oblivion, me and Keinam noticed the presence of a Xaosian AI communicating between Xaos and Oblivion. Perhaps the AI is linking them together. Or,” Otor clearly wasn't sure about what he was about to say, “a rogue AI is controlling them.”
Fairns scoffed. “Are you lot hearing yourselves? Dead rising again? Rogue AI?” He gave them a disgusted look. “The hell's wrong with you all?”
Maron saw Otor's fist clench, and realised that the Adjeti was barely resisting decking the Admiral, just like him.
Rals didn't resist, and Fairns stumbled backwards in surprise; Rals didn't hit him too hard. “Maybe you should walk out into the city yourself, Admiral.” Fairns gave Rals a look of disgust, but stayed away, shocked that he'd punched him. “Go on. Have a look around there. You'll find one, I'm sure.”
“What's going on?” Trexor approached them, one hand on his sword hilt. He looked at each of them, inspecting their expressions. “Something bad's happened, hasn't it?”
Fairns spoke up first. “They found some Xaosians, and didn't kill them properly, so they thought that the Xaosians were some sort of undead thing.” Fairns scoffed. “Damn idiots.”
“We did kill them.” Maron said through gritted teeth. “Twice. The other dead Xaosians could also rise again, and try to kill us all.”
Trexor looked at Maron, and raised an eyebrow. Maron didn't flinch. When doing the same to Fairns, Trexor saw a glimmer of doubt. Trexor nodded. “Maron believes in what he says. Even you, Admiral, a small part of you believes it too. We need guards on the camp, day and night now. Concentrate the doctors on the soldiers; we need them ready to fight. Just in case.”
“Thank you.” Maron nodded gratefully towards Trexor.
“Don't thank me yet; there are a lot of dead Xaosians under the rubble.” Trexor paused, and his tone turned mournful. “I uncovered a load myself.”
He walked away, presumably to arrange the guard duty. Maron's glare followed Fairns as he too rushed away.
“What now?” Rals asked.
“Now,” Otor said ominously, “we wait.”
*
The Xaosian emerged that night.
Trexor looked out with one of the few pairs of binoculars they had scrounged from the military base. He couldn't see too far into the city, but he saw the rubble move and tip as the Xaosians broke through to the surface. As soon as he saw them, he knew that they shouldn't be alive. Some had parts missing, bullet wounds, split armour and broken bones, but they moved like they were alive. Better. Methodical in their approach, the closest ones waited as others amassed with them, forming a wall of the undead. More and more kept coming, some dragging themselves along the floor after losing their legs, leaving a thin trail of blood behind. Most had weapons, but most of them makeshift. There were few pistols, less rifles, and almost no larger guns. Instead, they held melee weapons; knives, small swords, pipes, even just stone and bricks.
And there were hundreds of them. Trexor knew that there couldn't have been thousands; surely, there wasn't that many dead. But maybe there was; they could have been amassing from other towns around Tapal.
“They're forming an army.” Trexor called to Maron. “A fucking wall of dead Xaosians.”
“Wall?” Rals asked, confused.
“You heard right.” Maron said, taking the binoculars from Trexor. “They're in like a block formation; they intend to just march here and tear us all apart.”
“They coming?” Fairns came over, barking questions.
Trexor turned to him. “Get everyone who can fire a weapon, everyone who can use one. We'll lose some, but we can't run; there's nowhere to go where they can't find us. We have to stop for rest, for food. They don't need either. We could all die tonight. But we can fight to the end.”
Maron looked at Trexor dismissively. “Yeah, that. Fairns, get people ready at the edge of the camp.”
*
Otor could see the Xaosians from his position. The others stood in a straight line behind him, only a few of them soldiers. Nearest to him were Fairns and Trexor, followed by Maron and Rals; those four were the only ones with decent weapons. Maron and Rals had their T-18s, Fairns had a Xaosian X-46 rifle, salvaged from Tapal. Trexor had his sword and a half-stocked Xaosian pistol. Most of the other soldiers had low ammunition or salvaged weapons, along with either a blade or a blunt weapon; not exactly armed to the teeth.
Trexor looked around at the line. He saw Tya, holding a battered pistol and a small sword, shaking as she stood. She smiled at him, and he tried to broadcast a look of reassurance, but he didn't think he managed it. She was between two actual soldiers, which reassured him. Further along the line was Trem, limping slightly; obviously he had volunteered, and not listened to a rejection. Next to him was Disa, trembling. He stood slightly ahead of her; obviously trying to protect her. Trexor shook his head; Disa shouldn't be there, she was just a survivor, a mother, not a trained soldier or fighter. She had no place here. Neither did Tya, but at least she'd joined the army of her own accord; she could be a fighter.
Otor's hands twisted into a blade on the right, and the blood-pellet gun on the left. He said a few words of encouragement to Trexor, Maron and Rals, and then fastened his exoskeleton around his face, leaving only eyes free; he was ready.
Just in time.
A bullet nicked Otor, only missing his eye because he jolted out of the way; this was a good marksman. Whatever was controlling them was good; more evidence that it was some sort of AI in charge. Being methodical and simply better than organic lifeforms was pretty much the reason AIs existed.
“These guys are fuckin' dangerous!” Otor yelled to the others. “Damn good marksmen. If you can get close, I reckon their bodies and armour were weakened by the quake. And the whole being dead thing.”
Maron nodded. “That's a fair point. Charge them?”
Fairns looked terrified behind his visor. “Ch-charge?”
Trexor raised his sword and roared. “Charge!”
Trexor led the charge, Otor at his side. Fast footsteps thundered on the ground, almost drowning out their roars as they met the Xaosians. Trexor cr
ashed at one, cleaving an arm, holding a gun, loose, but it kept coming. It slashed at Trexor, who blocked most hits, pushing it back, and punching the bastard with his free hand. The Xaosian fell down, and Trexor slammed the blade through its chest. Extracting it, he moved on to another one, knocking it back.
“Trexor, look out!”
Trexor turned round, to see the Xaosian twisting around to stab him, the wound in its chest fully visible. Shocked still for a moment, he leaned back just in time to only get a scrape on his armour.
“Bust their heads in!” Maron yelled. “They won't stop unless the thing in their ears can't control them anymore.”
Maron twisted and ducked through the hordes, trying to land a blow to the head. But whatever was controlling these things anticipated his moves; not all of them, but enough of them to hinder his efforts. No bullet nor blade had hit a head yet, only body and limbs; he had severed all four limbs from one, but it still managed to wriggle and roll around, trying to gnaw at his feet. He crushed its face beneath his foot, shattering the already-damaged helmet and turning the head inside to mush.
Rals, faster than Maron in his youth and stature, was able to land a few more hits than Maron, but not enough to make much of a difference. Bullets landed, powerful enough to shatter the helmets, but obviously the AI or whatever that was in charge upped its game, and he never got a second direct hit to the head. He pushed them back, knocked them down, but there were too many to concentrate on just one.
Fairns stayed back, lurking on the edges of the combat, shooting at random Xaosians every now and then. They mostly ignored him; he was no threat, they simply dodged his bullets.
Trem and Otor were having more luck.
Trem kept Disa back behind him, shielding her from the Xaosians. She fought, and managed to get a few good hits in; evidently the AI controller found it easier to predict the actions of soldiers. But it adapted, soon blocking her every move. Trem, however, got in when they blocked her, punching their battered helmets in with his fist, before stabbing them with his hidden blade, tearing through their heads. He leapt, span and flipped over oncoming blows, attacking from above as he did so.
Otor massacred them all around him. When in close range, he twisted his left arm from the gun into another blade. With both blades actually being his arms, they were much easier to wield than ordinary blades, transforming himself into a living weapon. The AI had no predictions for the Adjeti; it hadn't seen them in action before, and Otor's rage and possible madness made him more unpredictable than most. The Xaosians tried to dodge his attacks, but very little did. It hurt him every time he hit them; there were nerve endings in his exoskeleton, and the blades bent slightly when they hit or cut through things, causing him intense pain. It was all he could do to keep silent, rather than to cry out in agony.
But even while they made progress, the Xaosians were well trained and well organised; the controlling force calculated their every move, most of which were spot on.
They were fighting a losing battle and they knew it.
