Knight in Cyber Armor

by Bard Constantine

  She glanced at her holoband. It was programmed to record everything if she lost consciousness. She opened the screen, flicked it to the wall, and rewound the footage.

  "What the hell?"

  Most of it was static, the recording disturbed by outside interference. Blurred shapes, garbled voices. Impossible to piece together or decipher.

  The only clean footage was right after the explosion. Debris rained down; the air rang with gunfire and detonations. Nothing was visible in the camera's eye other than fire, smoke, and dancing shadows.

  The sounds of combat finally died down. Voices were barely audible, too far away to hear clearly. Then the sound of footsteps as they approached. A shadowy figure leaned over, picking her up and standing. His voice was clearly audible, though flat and robotic from the silvery helmet that covered his entire head.

  "We'll keep her sedated. Just get it prepped, Incognito. I'm headed your way."

  The surroundings blurred and the footage returned to complete static. Ronnie quickly rewound to the clear image of the man's helmet. Her unconscious face reflected from the burnished surface, battered and bloody. The helmet revealed nothing, no clue of what the mysterious person might look like. But the design of the helmet was close enough to recognize from old footage.

  She stared at the screen with disbelieving eyes. "I'll be damned. Vigil. You're real. Whoever you are, you're real." A thought reluctantly followed the statement.

  Whoever you are, I owe you my life.

  Ⓥ

  Buoyant movement. The sensation of rising. Emerging from the depths.

  Triumphant.

  Incognito's voice in his ear. "Okay, Vigil. Testing the portable hangar unit. These will be stationed in abandoned buildings around the city, each equipped with a suit, supplies, and weapons depot. Perfect for emergency situations."

  The interior lights brightened. The portable hangar was the size of an elevator. Vigil stepped into the designated portion of the floor. Mechanical arms whirred, placing armor on and locking it into place. The last task was the helmet, visor whirring over his face with a hissing sound.

  The door hissed open, spilling vapor into the hangar. Vigil stepped out into the cold night. Cables were still attached to his helmet, performing the latest systems updates.

  "Running a diagnostic test."

  Vigil waited, checking energy clip on his neothermic handgun. The hangar unit was deployed on a dilapidated skyscraper high above the haze of the glimmering city districts. Snow trickled from dirty clouds, sparkling in the muted light. Haven Core was stationed on his left, glimmering like a half-buried Christmas ornament.

  "Everything checks out. Deploying ECMs."

  The electronic countermeasure drones whirled out, tiny black pyramids emitting electronic chaff to make him invisible to surveillance. He held out his gloved hand. One of the ECMs drifted over, hovering over his palm.

  "Last thing, Incognito."

  "Of course. The cape." Incognito's voice was slightly sardonic over the line.

  The shape memory polymer fabric unfurled from its housing around Vigil's neck, snapping and fluttering in the wind.

  "Congratulations, Vigil. You're a superhero."

  Vigil ignored the sarcasm as the cables clicked free of his helmet and snaked back into the hangar's housing. "Proto's getting reports of multiple violent crimes across the Five Districts."

  "No surprising after last night's display. A lot of people still channeling rage or looking for opportunistic looting. Not to mention bad blood from clashing gangs. Looks like you're going to have a busy night."

  "That's what I'm here for."

  "Roger that, Vigil. I'm here if you need me."

  Vigil looked down at the city. His city. He recalled Qhawa's words.

  It's after the act of staying awake when others are asleep. Keeping watch. Being vigilant. That's why Wayne Thomas chose the name. And now that is you if you're ready. Are you ready, Jett?

  "I'm ready."

  Vigil leaped into the depths of the city.

  Ⓥ

  End of volume one

  More in the Havenworld Universe

  Havenworld began with the Troubleshooter, so here's your chance to get into the game.

  Being the private eye of the future ain't easy. Especially when you got a bad case of amnesia and a good case of stumbling into trouble. But the rent's gotta be paid and booze ain't for free, so Mick Trubble takes cases. When folks find themselves in a particular sort of bind, they don't run to the cops. They find themselves a Troubleshooter.

  Buy at Amazon

  Imagine a world broken. Where humanity believed their only chance of survival was hibernation in stasis chambers until the day arrived to claim the world as theirs again.

  Imagine a dystopian future where glittering cities exist alongside unchecked wilderness, where one can stumble from a cyberpunk setting into a post-apocalyptic one. Imagine the strange and wondrous sites and residents of such a place.

  If you can imagine that, you just might be in Havenworld.

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  You might not know it, but reviews make a huge difference, especially for indie authors. Don't know what to say? Anything works. "Hey, I really liked this book and look forward to the next." Or even "I really hated this book. Not for me at all." (Though I hope that’s not true!)

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  Post-Credits

  Mat threw a rubber ball against the crumbling stone wall of the tunnel. The ball rebounded back into his hand.

  This sucks.

  Patrol duty was always the pits, but it didn't help that he had to do it solo. Chris claimed to have a fever, but everyone knew how Chris was. He could make himself sick just by concentrating, and usually did when a chore came up that he didn't like. It wasn't like Mat was scared or anything. The other patrols were just around the corner, within shouting distance. Mat heard them talking and laughing in low tones. He wasn't afraid of being alone. It was just boring as heck pulling an eight-hour shift with only a rubber ball for company.

  He threw the rubber ball against the crumbling stone wall of the tunnel. The ball rebounded back into his hand.

  We shouldn't have let the Beasts drive us away from the Deep Hall. I don’t care what the elders say, that was a bad move. We should have stayed and fought.

  Sometimes he imagined himself charging the Beasts, scattering them with his flashblade humming and sparking in his hand. He read a book about galactic knights with flashblades they used to defeat evil. He could run away, find some wise old hermit that would teach him the ways battle, and single-handedly storm the Deep Hall, leading his people back to the one place they found warmth and safety.

  He shook his head. Yeah, may as well with for entrance to Haven Core while you're dreaming.

  He hated life on the run. The Remnant was always looking over their shoulders. Always fleeing from violent confrontation. The elders were weak. They were frightened; too scared to do anything about the Beasts that picked them off at will. Leaving the Deep Hall didn't matter. They were still sheep waiting to be sheared. They were still prey.

  He threw the rubber ball against the crumbling stone wall of the tunnel. The ball rebounded too fast, ricocheted off the wall behind him, and bounced into the gloom of the adjacent tunnel.

  Smooth move, dude.

  He took a hesitant step forward. The mouth of the tunnel yawned open, inky blackness the only thing visible within. He swallowed, suddenly afraid. There was something in the tunnel. He felt eyes peering at him. Something lay in the gloom, just beyond the range of his vision. He knew it.

  A v-shaped beacon of crimson light flashed as the darkness came alive. A towering figure materiali
zed from the tunnel as if pulling back an inky curtain. Dark combat armor protected his body, and a gleaming helmet covered his head. Mat stumbled backward and fell as the man approached, holding out a warning finger.

  His voice was flat and robotic. "Don't sound the alarm. I only have a few questions."

  The words tripped and stumbled from Mat's quivering lips. "Who…who are you?"

  "My name is Vigil. What's yours?"

  "Mat."

  "Mat. I was in these tunnels not too long ago, Mat. I watched your people pass by. You looked like you were fleeing from something."

  "We were."

  "The surface citizens call you Tunnelers. What do you call yourselves?"

  "The Remnant."

  "I've heard about you. People of faith, I understand."

  "Yes, sir. We try to live and worship in peace."

  "But someone has disturbed your peace."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Who are they?"

  Mat's voice lowered to a hushed tone. "The Beasts."

  "What kind of beasts are they?"

  "I…don't know. No one has seen them. We only hear them…sometimes. They come when we sleep. Take whoever they want and vanish. We lost dozens before the elders decided to leave the Deep Hall."

  "Why didn't your elders fight back?"

  "Violence is against our way. We'll fight to defend ourselves, but not to hunt and kill."

  "Not even your enemies?"

  Mat dropped his head. "The elders forbid it."

  Vigil nodded. "I suppose that's a form of bravery in its own right."

  Mat looked up angrily. "It's not brave. It's cowardice."

  "Live a while longer, boy. You might find out some things. Is this your regular post?"

  "Most nights."

  "Then maybe you'll see me again." Vigil turned toward the tunnel.

  "Wait."

  Vigil paused, head turned back slightly.

  "Why…did you come here?"

  "I made a promise, Mat. The night I saw your people. I promised I'd come back and see what I can do to help."

  "Why would you help us? We're nobody."

  "Do you know the value of a life, Mat?"

  Mat considered for a second. "Life is priceless."

  "Then why wouldn’t I help you? Look for my sign. You'll know when I come back."

  Vigils voice echoed from the darkness of the tunnel. When Mat remembered his flashlight and clicked it on, nothing was visible except the dirty, crumbling tunnel interior.

  Vigil had vanished.

  Mat stepped inside, fanning his light over the surface of the walls. "What sign?"

  Then he saw it.

  Ⓥ

  VIGIL WILL RETURN