DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stargate
Inspired by StarGate: Galactic Imperium » by VexMaster.
As to this salvation, the prophets who prophesied of the grace that would come to you made careful searches and inquiries
1 Peter 1:10
The Holy Bible
January 17, 2012 (Other Universe)
January 16, 2006 (Stargate Universe)
A young man, unshaven and gaunt from days of walking with hardly any food to eat, checked his compass. Around him, his companions began to stir and awaken from under the abandoned over pass they had come across the night before. The young man, Ward, was their leader and already geared up for the day's trek further north. Tapping his communication link at his ear, Ward nodded to his second in command that the distress signal they had been tracing was still audible. She gave a solemn nod and quickly got ready along with their other companions. While Ward waited, he was greeted by their three dogs. Silently, his team individually prepared and did inventory of their gear; a quick and rationed breakfast had hardly settled in their empty stomachs as they marched north to the blipping dot on their visors.
Ward had made himself and his team an important part of John Connor's Resistance, in TechCom. They specialized in search and rescue; their days were spent sifting through rubble of cityscapes and abandoned settlements for survivors or the dead that had a chance to get word out of their need for help. Few search and rescue efforts were as successful as Ward's.
They managed to gain some notoriety and even a good word or two from Connor himself. They each had their own personal reasons for wanting to save these people and none were more grateful than those they had carried away from certain death (only to face other terrors, they were sure).
The five soldiers had come a long way from their youth, running away from the terror of Skynet and the machines. With Connor's army, with the Resistance, they learned to know the enemy and defeat it. Ward's second in command, Natalie, or Nate as she preferred to be called, was an angry and passionate co-commander. Despite Ward's caution, she was often the first to take on any attack, running straight to her death it seemed. Then there was Jack, who seemed to have a sixth sense for machines and their little tricks. He was short and muscular despite a non-existent diet for such a physic. He often teased Nate on a pending romance, but that was the farthest thing from any of their minds. Bull was the tallest and gentlest of them all. He usually held the sniffer dogs, keeping 'em calm and alert. Finally, Payton rounded off the gang as the tactical expert and sharp shooter. Payton didn't talk much; he had a rough childhood from what they could tell...
It had been over 48 hours ago when the SOS was faintly picked up over the Resistance airways. The Westchester County had all been abandoned by the Resistance: a no man's land with scattered settlements that dotted the area and what remained of towns and cities. One after one, the team passed pitiful settlements as checkpoints in search of the signal's origin. Still, it called them further north into the dry, deserted waste from the atomic fallout of Judgment Day.
Westchester was Skynet Central; it had at least a dozen factories that produced their T-600's and Hunter-Killer models. White Plains, he had visited the place before, had been nuked by and was completely wasted. The Resistance had done it, when they had pulled out of there, using a stolen nuclear bomb. No one thought anyone would be able to survive there… but some one had. It was near sundown when the signal got strong and the treetops appeared in the distance. "What's that?" Bull called ahead.
"A...it's a forest," Nate swallowed. Vegetation wasn't as scarce as it was after the bombs fell. But, to find a forest such as the one they were standing a few miles away from was a sight to be seen.
"I'll be damned," Jack said under his breath.
"Nate, the signal must be coming from there. It got stronger once we topped this incline, any records of flybys or incidents in this region?" Ward asked as he wiped his brow on his sleeve. There were still some independents out there, resistance cells that didn't link up with TechCom.
"No, sir: anything has been out here as far as we're concerned. Whatever is out there is lost or-"
"A damn Skynet trap," Jack interrupted. "Neither Connor nor any of the Resistance has any business in there..."
"Maybe it was a trap and someone already walked into it, Sir! People might still be in there and need us," Bull pleaded.
Ward looked to Payton, who stood silent at the top of the incline. He gave Ward a curt nod in agreement. They had no choice but to answer the call. "Let's go," Ward ordered. "We'll make camp before sun down."
Ward awakened to the sound of hushed whispers. His eyes adjusted to the dying fire light in the darkness to see Bull struggling with the dogs. Holding two by their collars in one hand and hugging the other at its chest, he pleaded with them to be quiet and be still.
"Bull? What is it?" Ward whispered loudly. It didn't matter, everyone had woken up.
"I dunno, sir! Something got them spooked," Bull nodded to the forest just yards ahead of them. The dogs whimpered and withered to get free from Bull.
"Machines, those Terminators?" Nate asked.
"All the way out here, it could be, though they tend to stay away from forests since their sensors don't work that well," Bull shook his head.
"Anything is possible, Bull."
"We've got about an hour before light, Sir."
By sun up, Ward's team was breaching the forest line towards the signal's origin. They were all on alert as the dogs paced back and forth a few yards ahead of them, sniffing and hopping from one patch of earth to the next in excitement as they went in deeper to the woods.
The sounds of the leaves rustling and a flutter of bird's wings were foreign to the group. They were accustomed to the sweeping sounds of an aerial HK flying high above and the crumbling walls of their city landscape.
Payton, who was trying to ignore the beauty in it all, had stepped on a patch of clovers and little purple flowers. He realized where he had stepped and paused to take in the sight of green and purple against his darkened boots and soiled pant legs. He suddenly felt guilty for trampling over them before his training and fear took over his senses again. He hopped lightly to catch up with the group that had gained some distance ahead of him.
Just as he caught up with the group, the dogs stopped and pointed as they had been trained. A beat and the group had taken defensive positions behind trees. Payton dropped to the ground to get a better advantage point for his shot. Scanning the trees ahead with his rifle's sight, he motioned to Ward that he saw nothing. Bull, puzzled by the dog's behavior and no clear sight of an enemy, turned to Jack and whispered, "You think there's ghosts in here?"
Jack, dumbfounded at such a question, turned to Bull and spat, "Have you lost it? The only ghosts I've seen are the blasted shadows in the city left by the dead on J-Day. Try to focus, Bull."
Just then, a swift breeze cut through the wooded opening as they waited and with it came the undeniable stench of rotting flesh. Nate shot Ward a troubled expression as the smell made his stomach turn. He swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to bend over and heave. Without warning, the dogs took off, barking and yelping into the forest.
"No!" Bull cried as he started after the dogs. Jack grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, sending Bull's long legs out from under him. "Those dogs can take care of themselves. Don't be a goddamn fools," Jack whispered softly. Bull nodded and rose to his feet.
"They're about thirty clicks in," Payton said as he lowered his rifle. "Listen, you can hear them."
They heard the dogs growling and one yelping in excitement.
"It must be clear from here to there. They wouldn't have left us if it wasn't," Jack offered. They all agreed and looked to the distance between them and the dogs.
"Let's go," Ward ordered.
They closed in on the dogs and the smell got stronger. Ward motioned for them to slow and take position as they approached the dogs in a clearing in the woods. Ward crouched on one knee and rested his back to a tree. He winced as he heard yelps and then nothing. Slowly, he took out a mirror extended on a long rod. Using the mirror as his eyes, he swept the clearing for the dogs and what they found. Ahead of Ward behind another tree, Nate watched him.
Ward's face twisted in confusion and in one single motion, he dropped the mirror and signaled a warning for Terminators as he gripped his Assault rifle. Like a domino effect, his team all dropped to their knees one after the other and armed themselves. Before Ward could signal Payton to take a shot, Payton was already signaling that the machines were down.
Take your shot, Ward signaled again.
Machines down. No Shot.
"What the..." Ward said to himself. He knew what he saw: the eyes and grotesque face of a T-800 had looked back at him in the mirror. Ignoring his instincts, Ward leapt from behind the tree and aimed blindly at the clearing, waiting for the rain of bullets to blast apart his body. Instead, he found himself looking down at three dead dogs lying on the floor in front of two immobile infiltrators in the middle of a forest in no-man's land.
"Ward! What the hell are you doing?" Nate whispered behind him. Ignoring her, Ward eased into the clearing, pointing his rifle from one machine to the other. He could feel his heart beating in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he allowed himself to get this close to a T-800.
The foul odor came from the machines: their synthetic skin was decomposing from where the flesh had been injured and chunked away by heavy trauma. Before he could get a better look, Ward jumped at the noise of his team entering the clearing to join him. They all had the same expression on their face: why were there machines all the way out here?
"Look. They've been injured," Jack whispered. They all saw what he meant: one machine was sitting, leaned against the trunk of a tree. Its left arm had been ripped off at the shoulder, which peaked out from its rotted jacket. The legs seemed badly mangled. Its other arm had rested at its side, palm up. The fingers were a grotesque sight of metal peaking from under bruised flesh; chunks of skin on the face had rotted away, exposing metal where cheek bones and skull should be.
From its nose down to its neck (and under its jacket, no doubt) was hardly any skin; small patches of skin and synthetic tissues tangled and clung around the metal mandible and throat. The infiltrator faced straight ahead with its eyes staring a hole into the ground before it.
Its metal jaw hung open as if it had just been silenced by some unknown enemy.
The other machine was in worse shape. It was sprawled out on its stomach across the forest floor just feet away from the other. At first glance, it looked like a man. Its clothes hid its decomposing flesh, but the team could see its metal fingertips extending out from its jacket sleeves.
They could tell that it had been crushed by something: almost its entire left side was bent and flatten; one leg was bent backwards at the knee and its shoed-foot pointed in the wrong direction.
"What the hell happened here?"
"Could it be Resistance?"
"Can't be. There's nothing out here that is of any use to us."
"What do you think, Ward?"
Ward's gut turned as his mind flashed a scene of half-defeated machines killing off his team one by one. "Get rid of them. They're still dangerous. They could go online while we're out here in this damn jungle looking for a couple of lost fools. Bull-" Ward paused.
Everyone else heard it too.
"Payton, Bull: follow me. You two stay here and destroy those damned things," Ward commanded.
"Sir, it seems like the sound is where our SOS is coming from," Payton cautioned. Ward pointed to high ground so that they could get a better look at the source. The three of them belly-crawled to the peak and looked down.
"Bull, any life down there?" Before Bull could read the infrared Intel from his visor, Payton held up four fingers as he spied down his rifle's sight.
"Machines?"
"No, just the four hiding," Payton answered.
"No readings, Sir," Bull shook his head. "No machines and a few hot spots that must be what Payton sees down there."
"They're watching us. I'm not sure we're welcomed down there since they're hiding," Payton whispered.
"They think we're infiltrators?" Bull asked.
"Only one way to find out..."
"Wait," Ward grabbed Payton's arm. "I don't think they're Resistance. They won't understand any signals or transmissions."
"All right. I'll flash 'em. Either they'll get it or they don't." Payton unhooked his florescent lamp and held it up, waving his hand to spell out SOS. Before he could finish the last of the signal, bullet fire could be heard in the distance where they had left Nate and Jack.
Without hesitation, the three men rushed back to the clearing to find Jack trying to pull Nate free from the grip of the crushed terminator. Its legs helplessly jerked to move, but only drugged behind it as it clawed to get closer with its free hand. "Fuck you, you piece of shit!" Jack spat as he pulled Nate to him at her waist and struggled to reach for his rifle that must have been knocked free from him. Nate appeared to be unconscious or dead as she was pulled in both directions.
Just as Ward appeared from the forest behind Bull and Payton, the other undead infiltrator limped into sight. It reminded Ward of an illustration he once saw in a children's picture book. The machine was hunched over and it glared up at them, waiting and wanting to kill them one by one. They could hear the mechanisms in the crushed infiltrator grind and whine to get at Jack and finish off Nate. Standing between them, the hunched infiltrator seemed to dare them to make a move. Ward had had enough.
Ward was about to scream, "Aim for the chest!" When a hail of bullets appeared out from no where and tore apart the T-800, ripping it apart and blowing it to pieces, the extremely durable and thick Hyper alloy torn like it was confetti. It would have taken entire clips from their rifles to destroy a single Terminator like the T-800, and those wouldn't cause as much damage as this Infiltrator was suffering. Ward gaped in shock as the other Terminator turned and was cut down, a mini-rocket embedding itself in its chest and exploding, leaving a scorched blast mark on the floor.
It was… amazing. The heard a chink and, taking position around Nate, aiming their Assault Rifles as they fired where the original hail of bullets had come from. They heard the bullets actually bounce off something strong, stronger than the Hyper Alloy, as a tall, lean, menacing shape slowly stepped out of the shadows. A single pulsing red eye shifted side by side, as if scanning them.
Ward was reloading when he analyzed the new machine, and realized it wasn't an Infiltrator, or any sort of Terminator they'd been before. It was sleeker than any known machine, almost chrome, with long limbs and a head that was martially encased in armor. It's 'hands' were four, long, multi-jointed claws with two, short, barrels sticking out of the wrists, mini-machine guns most likely.
Behind, a man with an elaborate white robe, almost like a damn Priest with a pendant, silver, hanging from his neck, stepped out from behind the Machine. In his hand he had a black book with gold engravings on its front. "Did you send the SOS?"
"But of course," the man with graying hair said, smiling. Ward was slightly disturbed by the smile, especially since the man looked so damn familiar, but he couldn't put it where he had seen that face. "But it was not for rescue, I do not need rescue. Rather, it was for your rescue, to tell you the truth. Jonathan Ward, son of Henri and Agatha Ward, do you wish to know of Salvation?"
Ward raised his rifle and fired a warning shot into the sky. He was freaked out – who the hell was this guy and who did he know his parents? He voiced his thoughts. The man smiled at him. "The Lord knows all, and I speak for his Son. "
Then, the man opened the book and the machine lowered its head and kneeled, spreading its arm's to the sky. "As obedient children," the man said, reading aloud for them to hear, "do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written, 'YOU SHALL BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY.' If you address as Father the One who impartially judges according to each one's work, conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay on this Earth; knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of his first Son Christ, or the blood of the Majestic and Bashful Eagle of his Second Child, the last Prophet, Hierarch; For He was foreknown before the foundation of the world, but has appeared in these last times for the sake of you… 1 Peter 1:14-20," the man finished, closing the book.
"Who the fuck are you, Old Man?"
"Language, such foulness is a step to Evil. The Hierarch desires to have this device of torture for the future Crusade. I have come to spread Salvation to your world, to this Earth. Embrace it, and you shall ascend to the path of glorious immortality with the Lord, your Savior. Those who embrace evil, hate, bias and shallowness are to be cast down."
He raised his arms and said, "I am Brother John Conner, Prior of the Covenant. Do you embrace Salvation, or Evil?"