Chapter 9
For the False Glory
The many times they had fought together, against impossible odds and barely scratching away with their lives, did not prepare any of them for this moment. The figure which stood in the door was bulky, with a set of heavy shoulders, arms almost bulging out of its metal suit, and a body so thick a laser probably couldn't penetrate. The single golden faceplate masked the otherwise midnight armor, complemented by a heavy, two-sided axe, the tip of which shone as it swung back and forth.
The figure charged, impossibly fast, crushing anything in its way.
They scattered, to four different directions. Where they had been the axe landed, sounding a crushing blow that chipped a part of the glass. The figure stopped for a second, as though surprised that anything was quick enough to move from its way, then stumbled forward as two shotgun blasts from Greene flared against its back.
It whirled around with an absurd speed, knocking Greene into the air with a powerful backhand. The axe swung at Davis, who attempted to lob a sticky charge, which instead was flung away by the chop, exploding midair far away.
It didn't take a genius to see that they could not beat the alien in a straight up fight, especially when the other had taken their sword as the punishment for trespassing. Their bullets simply bounced off the shield aura, and their own defenses was not likely to survive the blows of the heavy brute. The swings of the axe dented the ground easily.
Foster and Jenkins congregated on the other side of the room, from where the alien had come from, and raised their rifles in unison. The brute stumbled back as the hail of bullets ripped through the air, cutting sight with their incessant tide. In response it roared, a bellow of challenge, and hurled its enormous axe at the pair, who rolled aside to dodge the incoming projectile. A dent appeared on the door, which jerked and sparked before dying to a sorrowful red.
Jenkins was pushed to the ground by the crash, the aftershock twisting her conscientious. The alien took a step toward her prone body, only to be blasted by Davis' micro-rocket. A second one darted forward, and was whacked to the side to exploded harmlessly against the wall. Now Davis was the one who found an angry fiend racing at her fast enough to pancake a spaceship. Another hand firmly grabbed onto hers, and she was dragged away, barely holding onto Greene's flying form. The alien roared again, outraged, and, with a free fist, smashed into the ground.
The golden flooring tore apart by the power, a fissure racing towards where the four of them had gathered once again. Davis was the only one quick enough to leap aside. The other three found themselves propelled into the air as the ground beneath them erupted. The alien advanced, casually wiping away another round of bullets.
The shards thrown by the fissure crunched and bent under its armored boot, crunched into a pool of jagged patterns into the ground. As it neared them, its form glowed, powerful and godly, along veins of its suit. The temperature rose as its drew back its gather energy.
A single ball hit its helmet with an audible click. It turned, surprised, to Davis, who coolly pointed a pistol at its face. However, she didn't shoot.
The alien looked down for one second before the charges as its feet exploded, showering the air with odd pieces of metal and strange debris. It was blasted backwards and landed heavily on its back, cracking the floor at the impact. The aura of blue faded from its armor; its shield was gone. They now had a chance.
The containment field, resembling a large, orange translucent bubble, held within it the foreign fleet, yet familiar. Patriotic hulls, paints of red and blue, lined the bulk of the mass. Slits of gold peek from beneath the friendly facade, hulls of gold, machines of gold, armies of gold. At parts entire ships seemed to be made of that white and gold, holding only the slivers of its past identity. A gasp passed through the crew at the sight of the 1st Fleet Armament, corrupted to its core from the alien power, yet more than so magnificent than ever before. At the center of the formation loomed the pride of the Alliance Navy – the Dominance. It was not a misnomer, the name painted onto the remaining armor, that it was quite capable of tearing ships apart before. Yet looking at the seamless blends of white, red, blue and gold, there was only the faintest resemblance of its old pride, now a loose band of alienations.
On their side, opposite of the orange bubble held from power sources on Earth itself, lay the combined forces of two fleets, the home-guard Fourth and the wanderer Fifth. Countless cannons pointed towards the invaders, which had yet to show its arsenal. Behind the sea of metal, Heliocentric calmly lay on its side, the impenetrable defense of the Home. Aside from the patches of defensive turrets, the massive railgun spun to lock onto the blinking lights in the distance.
For a moment, no one dared to breathe. The other fleet sat, still as blackness of space, within the containment, as though waiting. For what, nobody knew. While the Alliance masses shifted back and forth, optical strategies designed to confuse enemy tacticians, there was no response to return.
Then the devil opened his hands.
From beneath the armor plating, the 1st Fleet, ever so gleaming, unhurriedly uncovered nests of strange weapons, each of them exotic in design, yet threatening nonetheless. Jaws dropped as several cruisers began to split lengthwise, to reveal beneath alien structures, as though moths emerging from their cocoons after a winter's sleep.
The Dominance unloaded two eccentric guns of its own. A faint, blue light began to emit from their centers, gradually growing to a searing light. At their peaks, when many of the crew began to think they might have a new star, the glow faded, to be burst from the guns, angry bolts of heat, and the shots smashed into the orange bubble.
Pain. It was an eccentric sensation, that to feel, to experience. For the longest time, where there was once pain had been carved away by a numbness and order, to be roughly pushed aside in glory. Then had come the sleep, and still it lingered on the edges, never truly disappearing, that accursed sting, dull as the needle wore away, yet pressuring nonetheless. Now its knife was once again honed to shred meat and sever bone.
He opened his eyes, to find himself pinned against a wall by gravity. Pain electrified his arms, shooting through them the forgotten ache. His back, which he was sure took the majority of the impact, had been pounded upon by hammers. There were tunnels through his mind, that which reality sneaked in and out of, to play the ever trickster. His suit couldn't repair him quick enough, even while his bones were been forcefully shifted from their inappropriate places to where his body demanded them, or the muscles that had been lit aflame by the medicine.
A weak groan escaped his lips. His arms responded slowly, not strong enough to expand his orders. Artificial adrenaline pumped through his systems so quickly that he thought perhaps the world was spinning in three different directions, and the humans who had taken a beating from him were wobbling against the ground.
Then the ether disappeared, to leave him with an emptiness. The Void quickly rushed into, to take with it the vacuum. The irony was not lost, neither was his will. The intrusion left a residue of blackness, that he gladly invited and drank from, to feast away the weakness that had plagued the old. The Void responded when he called. A skin of metallic shine encased him from head to toe, rejuvenating and shielding him. The reflective sleeve caught the light, which seemed to dance around him. When he stood again, the humans had within their eyes the looks of worry and fear, like so many of his prey before. They watched in horror as their pathetic bullets simply bounced off, while he in glee.
A trail of smoke sailed his way, curving to catch him should he move. Instead, he only charged forward, smashing headfirst through the explosion, pushing away its pathetic force and the cloud in its wake. A hail of bullets greeted him on the other side, and a carefully laid mine, which threw up even more smoke. He spun to the right, dodging another rocket, and leaped into the air. They did not expect this move, for instantly they scattered again, like synchronized ants. His landing made another crater in the ground.
The bigger human stepped in front of him, oblivious to the speed he could unleash, yet as he burst forward, a shower of pellets sparked against him, forcing him a step back. The human fired again, and again the storm pummeled him. It was a rain of falling stars, that which the heat made he could visibly see. The power behind each discharge was enough to chip away at the skin of iron. However, after the third shot, the human ran out of ammo, and attempted to fly away on a pair of rockets, though was hit by a glancing punch, and instead spiraled out of control to smash against the far wall.
Another rocket missed, and he found himself unable to sponge the concentrated fire. Whatever these humans were using, they were packed with enough firepower to kill. Too bad he was faster. The one with rockets was too slow as his charge carried him past a series of mines, and knocked the unfortunate human hard backwards, to slide ten meters against the ground. More bullets whittled his armor, though he ignored them for the time being, running forward and denting the floor where the human quickly rolled from. An explosion blinded him, allowing the slightest time to let the others do even more damage.
Back again was the illusive bastard, to claim his little moments of bliss and relief from its influence. It set his nerves on fire, even as he willed the agony away. Something pushed hard against his back. Instead of tripping, he let it push, and rolled forward. He would not fall, not to this weakness which still bedeviled him so. Behind him, the human stepped aside to dodge his charge. He roared past, but didn't miss.
The others, behind the bullfighter in the ring, thought themselves safe as they poured their firepower into him. Now they found themselves scattering as his charge sent him onward. One of the females spun as her arm was caught, the bones shattering on impact. The other man, fear visible in his eyes, instead ran, to the wall, then up the wall, and a hand to grasp the railings of a floor above to pull himself up.
What remained in his way was the ancient, a milky white behemoth, that cracked and toppled as his rammed through its thicker trunk. The massive structure fell so slowly, and shattered as it came into contact against the floor. An unbidden flash unleashed through the room, blinding all.
He stumbled back then, arms raised to protect his head, until he felt the wall at his back. Yet no attacks came, for the humans were too disoriented. As the brightness faded, he found the inoperable door behind him, where the axe only five meters away. The weapon seemed to shine as his hands found its grip. His strength surged, to feel the reassurance of the weight, that he stood proudly against the humans, who were just now recovering. They hesitated as they saw the battleaxe.
He roared in might. With the Scindo in hand, he charged.
"The military has yet to release a statement on where or how the 1st Fleet had disappeared, nor on why or what exactly happened to it to let it here now."
The fleet, half human, half alien, pounded against the orange shield. Bright flares, muted by the distance, illuminated the dark world below. The stars had hidden themselves away, as though very aware of the circumstances about to unfold in the once peaceful skies. The black mass of a machine churned just out of sight, where the colossal station turned its super-weapon against the strength of the unknown aliens.
"Currently, the situation seems contained. More updates will follow on the status of the Homeguard fleets. Now, a word from Senator Morris–! Holy ****!"
From the cannons on the Dominance, two flashes of blue light raced to burst against the orange. The shield seemed to freeze, then the center shattered in thousands of pieces to rain onto the planet. As though the cue, the entirety of the 1st began a steady advance, blowing away the dead shield wherever in their way, and sending nearby frigates and cruisers hastily backing from their injuries.
The Alliance fleet returned fire, blasting down everything it could before more severe damage was taken. Flagship Supremacy of the Fourth easily gunned down a careless frigate, while Ascendency of the Fifty unleashed a holiday fireworks of flak cannons, blowing away the pesky fighters.
"Admiral Bailey's personal destroyer Superior is in the middle of the fighting. It looks to be doing very well."
Even modified by whatever strange devices, the opposing cruiser, almost a quarter in size, lacked the heavy firepower of the Superior. Admiral Bailey had always been one for wars, which then was no surprise that his ship was perhaps the strongest in all of Alliance military. It was shredding the flank armor of the cruiser and holding against the advance of the masses all at once.
But it wasn't enough.
Dominance rode the incoming tide like a shark through tsunami, carrying with it the fear and hopelessness that were the famine of war. Its twin cannons fired, and the Alliance army suddenly found that their ships were being melted away by the mysterious energy.
"****! Was that Dominance?"
Heliocentric Station fired its main gun, the magnetic projectile streaking forward with an unstoppable force. Dominance dodged, too quick for a ship that size. The projectile instead shattered the entire ship behind it.
Supremacy was the first to do any real damage with its railgun cannons. A piece of the port armor vaporized, and the entire juggernaut shuddered from afar. Honor guards were close behind, taunting the massive ship with their fleeting shadows, stopping for just a quick jab then disappearing around.
"From the looks of it, Admiral Bailey will hold back the enemy forces. So far, there has yet to be–"
And the Supremacy exploded in a brilliant star.
He almost jumped out of his skin as the black figure followed him into the air.
The junction of walls provided an excellent vantage to boost himself high enough to grab the railings of the second floor. He quickly found out that by using the nearby column and the railing above he could scale to the third floor. Unfortunately, when he looked down from the third floor, all he saw was a blackness that raced him at breakneck speed. He tried to dive off, but was caught by the foot, and instead spun down and landed heavily on his back. A weak groan escaped his lips.
"Foster!" he could hear Greene through the com, "Stay alive until we can take down this tough bastard!"
Said bastard landed close to him with a force that cracked the ground and swung that maniacal axe in several circles above its head. He rolled away, just in time as the weapon smashed where his head would have been, and got to his feet to perform the craziest gymnastics as the axe chopped again. In the corner of his eye he could see Jennifer readying a grenade launcher and Shawn pumping the shotgun. Jenkins was way higher, scrambling for a sniper's nest. In this second, the axe nearly bisected him. His boosters came to life and lifted him from the ground.
The alien was tired of them flying around like mosquitoes.
It raised its foot, as though there was distasteful waste beneath it, and stomped, with the force of a thousand angry, stampeding rhinoceroses. The air bent visibly, as did the ground, which arched unnaturally as the wave passed through the metal. Glass shattered and walls shook. He braced himself in the air as the ripple came at him like a freight train.
But he was not expecting this.
It hit him like a tornado of blasting winds and pounding sounds. One second he was close enough to reach out and touch the disturbance in the air, distorting the image of the alien behind it. The next his head jerked back so hard he felt tendons in his neck crack, bringing with them a sharp pain. His body was flung away like a ragdoll, one to bounce against the wall like a discarded toy. A bone or two might have cracked, though it was hard to tell with his head ringing like a twentieth-century telephone.
Somewhere along the way he managed to look up, to witness the incredible fight between his three closest family, and the beast that was strong enough to level cities. The alien charged, dodged nimbly by Greene, and ran into a second tree, which, like its fallen comrade, cracked and began a steady decent. He wanted to shout praises of victory to the quickness with which they had avoided the silver plant coming smashing down, whereas the alien was dazed from its crash that it was engulfed by the cloud of smoke arisen by the impact of the ornament to the ground.
"Come on, get up." A pair of hands grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him away.
A tremendous roar shook the room, rocking the floor unsteady again. The alien stood up, each movement pained yet solid. The remnants of the tree still clung to the black armor, though it only brushed them casually aside. The silvery metal which had encased the figure and made it impervious to all weapons was mostly gone, only a few dots existing here and there. And it looked angry. Very, very angry.
"Take this." Something landed in his lap, and by all his training, the assault rifle was pumped and ready for action before his brain could recognize the familiar grip.
The alien ran at them, each step an earthquake fifteen feet long. His rifle barked without his command, letting loose all the bullets of its capacity as the figure stormed at them. But it had no armor, and that was its downfall. The shots zipped into the black form, some deflecting away, some embedded within the metal, others ripping through the flesh beneath, if there was any. It didn't show signs of slowing in the least.
And a well-timed grenade saved them. The glowing orb landed at the alien's feet just as it prepared to leap. The explosion wasn't particularly powerful, given that it was only a hand grenade, but was potent enough to send the creature reeling backwards.
"Hold still." A syringe pierced his neck through his armor. He wanted to scream, but failed as his mouth tired from the pain. Something rushed through the needle to feed his blood, which began to boil and tug. The pain faded, along with all exhaustion. The rifle was suddenly sturdier in his grip, and his feet stronger.
He pushed himself up from the one holding him, ready to fight again, and again, just a game of war, that waged against the universe itself. His target, the black nightmare, rose too. He said nothing as he aimed, and fired.
Heliocentric fired again, and, unfortunately it missed its primary target, crashed down a bluely outlined pod. The pod, mirroring a cruiser in size, was too busy firing its lasers to notice the projectile until it was too late. Its entire side was crushed, revealing within golden machinery.
Dominance streaked through the fight, taking down a frigate with a jaw-dropping speed, then hurrying away to dodge the relentless pursuit of the Superior. Within the bridge, Admiral Bailey stood with a heavy frown, not at all pleased with the way the fight was happening.
So far, out of the several thousand ships of the 1st, only a hundred or so were alive, and out of the several thousands of the Alliance, more than half were still fully operational. A radio signaled that the 3rd was only minutes away from battle, ready to clean up the mess. Yet somehow the battle didn't feel a winning one. There was no glory in this victory, not when the enemy showed no fear, yet continued their so long now outmoded strategy.
Ascendancy came around a sharp corner and let loose a series of plasma bolts, all which only served to shatter the frontal armor. In response, it was on the receiving end of a zap from a underside cannon, which more or less set the entire flagship on fire. It pulled away from combat, eager to prevent farther damages.
And finally the magnetic railgun hit.
The shot, lead perfectly in its trajectory arc, rammed into Dominance's right flank, effectively breaking its entire starboard shield and a kilometer-long cannon. The explosion was beautiful, a bright shower of colorful sparks and rings of miniature flares. As the shot faded, a deep hole was now visible in the innards of the ship. It was almost spun around by the impact, now gently rotating in the empty space of its pieces.
In the wake of the small victory, the distant space distorted, and from its depth emerged the 3rd Fleet, glorious and bright, to crush these intruding aliens once and for all. The golden fleet, crippled and damaged, suddenly found itself surrounded from all sides. As their formations attempted to rearrange themselves to face every direction, Sovereignty, the mighty juggernaut of the 3rd, leaped to the fight, smashing into the feeble resistance at the rear.
Dominance and Superior were having the duel of history. The two ships, each over thirty miles in length, waged the apocalyptic war against each other. Energy bolts raced back and forth so quickly their formed a death net between them, guaranteeing total annihilation for anything to come in between. Flashes of blue and red met the unmovable hulls. Neither was willing to back down, or even maneuver itself to a better firing position.
Superior, despite being mostly fresh, took a heavy toll upon itself. The front quarter of its hull resembled an engulfing firestorm, yet still beams of plasma burst from the smoke to hammer the other ship. Dominance, on the other hand, could not hold its own after the hit from Heliocentric Station's magnetic accelerator, and was beginning to falter. Yet it did not give it, throwing everything it had in its last bid for control.
Much to the relief of many Alliance crewmen, it was only so soon before the Superior gained the upper hand by shooting out the main alien cannon. Then it was an downhill battle. Dominance began to roll as its artificial gravity field dissipated, and its bow cracked after a concentration of fire drilled a hole through the golden reinforcements.
Then the fight was over. The entire ship broke in half, one to be continued on a bombardment by the victor, the other streaking down to the planet below. Cheers were all around, to celebrate the empty triumph, a success over nothing but mere robots and their original power. Sovereignty led its own forces across the battlefield, blasting apart whatever resistance that still remained. A collective sigh was breathed, and Earth was safe again.
He was too weak to continue the fight. The stomp had given him the briefest of time to recover whatever injuries, but not enough for him to fully charge the shield. Pellets peppered his exposed armor, until he felt the pain within his flesh. The medicine numbed the burning sensation, of course, but it was there, just below the surface, ready to burst from the weak well for agony.
Something exploded in his face, and he felt himself thrown backward. The blistering sting was only the distraction, though, as his back touched the ground. Air was knocked from his artificial veins. He lay, stunned. The humans were wary, approaching with care. But then it was pointless, for he had only one more trick left, and with it involved death over betrayal.
From his mind, he sent his last command to the control station. There was a monotonous response that he found so satisfying, and the countdown began. The humans were oblivious, their weapons still motionlessly trained on his prone form. But by then it didn't matter; it hadn't for so long now.
Zero.
A boom shook the entire room, toppling yet another tree. The humans were alarmed, retreating now, away from him, away from this prison. They had only reached the elevator before the walls exploded, as though a burst of the stars. The metal plating shattered and flew in, clinging onto the ground like cutting shards. He moved as much as he could to avoid a particularly large piece. His last sight of the pitiful creatures was their ascending forms, rising with the platform. Then the roof fell.
Chunks of metal and rocks rained upon him, ready to crush anything and everything under their weight. He closed his eyes then, for the first time since his awakening, to await the inevitable sleep. Yet fate had a strange sense of humor. The impacts and shakes stopped after so long, brining it with a fine layer of dust, and a quietness found nowhere else but in the mind.
He dared to peek out again, and found, strangely, that he had not been squashed. The rocks left him a small chamber, one barely illuminated by the emergency lights on the floors. It was a surprise that the emergency power was still working, given that the first phase of explosions should have taken everything out but the docking bay and the storages.
One minute.
The second phase was counting now, to fully wipe this place from the memory, to remake it into just another geographical feature on the surface of this silly little planet. Dust. What a fitting name, considering there was nothing here but wind and dust. Lots and lots of dust.
Thirty seconds.
A neat writing caught his attention. Inscribed into the stone, by what he suspected was either claws or lasers, were words. They look fresh, not of the grave yet. Gift. Oh, how he wanted to laugh. Was this a chance for redemption, for the guilt that had swallowed them all after the fall? If so, then he would take it, for there was nothing more damping than death. A chance is a possibility, and he welcomed even the smallest possibility.
Ten seconds.
The Void was opened, and he used whatever strength in his body to pull himself through the rift.
Five seconds.
Maybe there was hope after all. They had all been left blind by those glorious words, the words which had them kill and conquer, and kill and conquer.
Three seconds.
But what then? Open betrayal was no option. Perhaps his mysterious savior was one for planning.
One second.
His foot disappeared through the portal.
Zero.
A/N
Sorry for the late update. That writer's block (yes, they actually do exist) hit me harder than them taxes. You can probably tell where it happened by the poor quality.
Again, all reviews are welcome. Please tell me what you thought of the story so far, what you liked or didn't like about it. It would help me tremendously in the upcoming parts.