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Dr. Holiday peered through the glass separating the observation deck from the specimen enclosure, eyes fixed on the curious little thing crawling around on the cold metal floor.
A toddler, about a year and a half old, grasped at the hollow wooden play blocks laid out on a tiny table in front of him. He uttered a garbled coo as he banged two blocks together and threw them against the glass, delighting in the loud crash they made as they collided against the observation deck, leaving a crack in the glass divider. The child's eyes were bright green, almost alien green, with skin as pale as marble or moonlight. He was an aesir, the first natural-born in the history of the Dominion since they started Project Achilles.
"Pretty strong for a toddler." Holiday murmured as he scribbled another note, "Anyone know how thick the glass is?"
"About 3mm, sir."
"Fascinating."
His name was Cain, his parents were Blackwatch Officers Gavin West and Danny Fade. The couple watched their son from another room, a bit nervous to have to be part of the doctor's experiments. Thankfully, Dr. Holiday wasn't too invasive with his procedures. He observed the toddler's physical traits and potential, no matter how nascent they were at the moment. Before long Cain was back in his mother's arms, while the doctor shared his findings with his team.
They would know more in the following years, but if the proposed hypothesis was correct, the child would later exhibit a perfect physiology. Faster metabolic processes, higher cell density, increased resistance to toxins and radiation. The circumstances that allowed Cain's birth to be possible disproved initial theories regarding aesir reproduction. Now, they had the means to better sustain a viable population of future super-soldiers. With the success of the project came opportunities to further explore the capabilities of the aesir subspecies, and what wondrous benefits they could yield for the Dominion in the long run.
"Danny." West said quietly, "I've been thinking..."
"Yeah? You've been doing that a lot lately." The woman replied as she held Cain closer to her heart. The toddler yawned and immediately fell asleep in her arms. "Should I be worried?"
"Maybe." He said with a smile, "Because I'm about to ask you to do something crazy."
The trio emerged from the testing facility and into a waiting tram, which took them across the great underground complex several hundred feet below Elysion. The tram ran along the network of tunnels leading to the surface, passing the many other facilities where the rest of the Dominion's top secret experiments were conducted. These tests ranged from the creation of new weapons and vehicles, to miscellaneous civilian technologies. The death of the High Marshal changed everything, and his successor only spurred development crews to overhaul the entire program.
Gavin West, given second life by the Dominion's machines, didn't waste his opportunity to make the most of things. He asked Fade to marry him, to at least give Cain a semblance of a decent childhood in the New World. He thought it would be fitting, given that they were the proverbial Adam and Eve of the aesir race. Fade's only issue was the timing.
As they were both Blackwatch officers, they would be called upon to carry out more tasks than any force in the Dominion. For as long as the war went on, all other priorities that didn't concern the job would be deemed secondary and therefore non-essential. Still, West was confident it wouldn't last for very much longer and was insistent on getting hitched. Dr. Holiday was aware of his plan and didn't dissuade the commander's intentions, rather, he encouraged it.
Family was the functional unit upon which all societies were built, a vital foundation that cannot be ignored. The previous regime, The Commonwealth, remained whole throughout the Great War because of it. If cultivated and cared for, the Dominion would weather the centuries well.
The trio exited Vault 115 and joined the crowds flocking to Elysion Square, where thousands of citizens have gathered to pay their respects at the former High Marshal's state funeral.
Officially Roman Stern died on February 3, 2104. His last act was ensuring the line of succession and securing the leadership of the Dominion, his final gift to the people he'd guided and protected all his life was the survival of their culture and identity. All of them, from the Old Blood generation of Vault 115 to the new citizens reclaimed from the Wasteland, were alive because of him. Like his name, he was a stern and ruthless man. He ruled with an iron hand, a tyrant's hand to some, but not to the citizens of the Dominion.
His was a father's hand. Firm, protective, guiding and encouraging. He was the terror of the Texan Wasteland, the bane of all raiders and tribal warlords. His enemies feared him, and rightly so. But to his people, he offered peace and safety, a chance to begin again. Under his leadership, they tamed the Wasteland and bent it to their will. There would be no one like him, and with uncertain eyes did all look upon his successor. The fact that he bore the same name held little significance to them, for they were largely unaware that they were practically the same man. The true nature of the creation of the first generation of aesir was the stuff of conjecture and contradiction, no one knew what or who they were- not exactly.
And now, an aesir was chosen to lead them. Stern II knew what they were thinking, and he planned accordingly.
His predecessor was not laid in state at some grand cathedral or state building. His body was placed in the open, upon a simple wooden platform with decorative bouquets of white lilies and royal purple orchids arranged with care all over and around him, flowers vat-grown just for the occasion. He'd been prepared, dressed in his olive-green uniform with all the medals he'd acquired before and during the Great War, and was ready for the ceremonial cremation. Like at his speech several days prior, the event was televised and broadcasted throughout the Dominion.
One by one, the members of the Dominion's top brass paid their final respects before Stern's body was to be wheeled away to be burned. The successor took his place at the pedestal and gave a rousing speech to both honor the dead premier and commemorate his deeds. He took a page from one of history's most memorable speeches, dedicated to a man long ago who led his people against an encroaching darkness and gave them victory.
"Roman Stern will be mourned all over the world by all who owe so much to him. He is now at peace after a life in which he created history and which will be remembered as long as history is read. When there was darkness in the world, and hope was low in the hearts of men, a generous Providence gave him to us. As long as men tell of that time of terrible danger and of the men who won the victory, the name of Stern will live... He is History's child, and what he said and what he did will never die."
Heads bowed. Some tears were shed, and lips trembled in prayer. Men and women of different faiths offered what they thought was right and proper, and all together wept for him for the last time. The rooks of the 13th Regiment were chosen to escort the bier, a task they performed with utmost reverence and respect. Stern's body was taken to the dais prepared for him at the center of Elysion Square, and after several other ceremonial honors he was finally burned.
The noise of the crowd didn't bother little Cain much. In fact, the light of the funeral pyre fascinated the aesir toddler, and he cooed in delight as the flames danced upon the High Marshal's corpse.
"You know, I've always wondered if he planned all this." Fade said to West in a hushed tone.
The commander was quick to catch on to her meaning. The most secure city on the planet, infiltrated by a single Brotherhood spy, with a conveniently unguarded construction site tower. These, together with the fact that the High Marshal knew he was dying. It was almost as if he was daring the Brotherhood to take the shot. It was a risky move, one involving the Dominion entire.
"I wouldn't put it past him. I've never known the man to be a gambler, but if there's one thing I can say about him, it's that he's never one to turn down an opportunity."
Arnem snored loudly as he dozed off on his chair, lulled to sleep by the long hours of guard-duty. Winter had come for the Texan Wasteland, the coldest anyone's had since the first nuclear winter. He and Blue-Eyes had been assigned to defend a tiny lookout high up in the mountain rockies, to watch out for enemy invaders and provide an advanced warning to the Brotherhood stronghold should their lines be breached.
The stronghold, another mountain refuge carved into solid rock and stone, held what was left of 1st Fleet. After suffering so many defeats following Riverside, this was how far they've been driven back. From the last report of their forward teams, the Texan Chapter learned that the High Marshal had been assassinated and that the whole Dominion grieves.
They grieved, but they were not stopping. If anything, the death of the High Marshal only hardened their resolve. They showed no mercy when facing the Brotherhood in battle, took very few prisoners and marched ever closer to Landfall. But for the settlements and towns they came across, those that once belonged to the Brotherhood, they didn't touch a hair on the heads of those people. They spared them, even promised them protection and a better life than the one they lived before.
Rumors told of how quickly the locals shifted their loyalties, almost voicing their support for the Dominion overnight.
There were only three airships left. And now, they say that the Dominion has one of its own. Bigger than anything that the Brotherhood has ever created, with twice the firepower, and three times the manpower.
The same day they burned the High Marshal's body in Elysion sparked the fires of hate in the Dominion armed forces. Since then, Warhound strike-fighters and long-range artillery hammered Brotherhood positions to dust. Vertibird super-carriers swooped down from the skies, dropping paratroopers over to seize vulnerable positions in advance of armored companies. And these captured positions were not at all easy to retake. In fact, with their air support decimated and their ground teams in disarray, it was impossible for the Brotherhood to halt the Dominion advance, much less initiate a counterattack.
And so it went on this way. They gave ground, lost more brothers and sisters to Dominion guns, and hightailed it back to the desert. Closer and closer did they come to Landfall that there was an almost palpable madness felt in the air of their primary headquarters. So many technologies were lost, and it proved too much for the Elder to handle. Day after day, he pleaded with the Elder Council to continue sending their support, more bodies and more weapons. All of it, of course, was to delay the inevitable. High Elder Maxson advised them to hold their ground and promised to send relief soon, and that was almost six weeks ago.
Relief would not come. And knowing that was probably why, later, Elder Larsson ordered the hit on High Marshal Stern.
Blue-Eyes thought it was a stupid idea, with an even stupider conclusion. He wasn't as smart as the knights or scribes, but he was smart enough to observe how the 'minions' thought and worked. And lately, he was wondering why they even ever thought about starting this war.
The wind carried the noise of some distant battle, explosions masked as peals of thunder. It woke Arnem up, and he grabbed his Reckoner rifle from its spot at his foot. He relaxed a bit when he quickly scanned the wilderness and saw nothing. Snow had covered much of the dunes, decorating both mutant cactus and wild-bush with white coats of snow and ice.
It was a beautiful sight, although the view wouldn't last. A dark shape loomed over the horizon, and it wasn't a storm cloud.
"Fuck me..." Arnem breathed, "Lookit the size of that thing!"
They both heard the stories, but no words could ever do that monster any justice. Blue-Eyes gestured for his friend to warn the Brotherhood. The Jörmungandr was coming.
"Stronghold, this is Lookout-2, we've spotted the Jörmungandr! I say again, we've spotted the Jörmungandr!" Arnem reported, "It's headed straight for you, do you read?"
There was no response from the Brotherhood stronghold, not directly. Amidst static, Arnem could hear the alarmed voices of operators scrambling to coordinate the defense of the mountain refuge. Then, communications were subsequently cut off. A swarm of Dominion EITS drones swooped down from the skies, swiftly scanning the area for the entrance to the Brotherhood stronghold. Closer and closer did they fly to the mountain jutting out of the wide Texan fault, which was cut into the earth from the bombs of the Great War. Once they found what they were looking for, the drones dispersed and returned to the Jörmungandr.
Without warning, the massive Dominion airship pierced the silence with a deafening screech. Its bow opened up like a great steel dragon's maw yawning wide, and it unleashed a bright red beam of hatred that cracked the mountain in half. A powerful explosion, akin to a volcano erupting, split the earth with abyssal fissures and sent shockwaves for miles around. In a blink of an eye, the Brotherhood lost an entire stronghold to the Dominion's superweapon. The great castle fell before the dragon's flames.
"No..." Arnem gasped, realizing that once again he and Blue-Eyes were the only ones left. "Not again."
Knight-Commander McKenzie was somewhere in that base, along with a great number of veteran knights with a stockpile of precious salvaged technologies.
'What the hell do we do now?' Blue-Eyes motioned, his face pale with fear.
"Well...I uh..." Arnem gathered his wits about him as the airship slowly made its way towards the smoking crater where the stronghold used to be. "There's not a lot of bases left, but I guess we should head back to Landfall. If we get there quickly, we can warn them about that thing, give everyone a fighting chance."
The Jörmungandr's hangar bays opened, unleashing its beehive of vertibird super-carriers. These gargantuan transporters carried M2 Black Bears right out of the bays and onto solid ground in minutes. What was left of the mountain was swarming with Dominion mechanized infantry, supported by heavy armor and a giant steel cloud in the sky. There were still a handful of Brotherhood defenders that survived the particle cannon's fire, not a lot, but enough to get the Dominion's attention.
Blue-Eyes mounted up behind Arnem on their dirt-bikes, and the two friends sped out into the cold desert. If they tried to help the survivors, they would only wind up dead or worse. Their mission was to warn Landfall now, ensure that the Texan Chapter would survive. They figured that the survivors were going to die anyway.
It was a long and hard ride West, which took almost half the day, but the two friends managed to reach the last bastion of the Texan Chapter without any incident. The activity of the Permian Basin scared off both the raiders and the Wasteland critters, almost as if they knew what was about to go down. It's been too long since Arnem and Blue-Eyes saw Landfall. Like most places during the course of the war, things changed drastically over the years. The natural rock formation had been converted into a fortress of concrete and stone, cupping snugly the vault entrance of Landfall with the airship Pride to hover above it. Dugouts for Shieldbearer mechs have been placed on chokepoints throughout the great entrenchments set up for the Brotherhood's conscripts.
The underground stronghold itself was fortified significantly, with dozens of kill teams manning each corridor should the first lines of defense be breached. If the Dominion pushed them as far as the vault, they were prepared to fight to the death. Their enemies would have to get their hands dirty trying to pry them out of Landfall.
The people of the Permian Basin had been conscripted en masse, hastily outfitted with salvaged weapons and armor to prepare for the Dominion's arrival. They were largely unwilling to participate in the war, but have been spurred to purpose by the words of the Elder himself. He'd warned them of the atrocities of the Dominion, of their ruthlessness to their enemies. These were truths, but further exacerbated with lies. The people were told that the Dominion was coming to enslave their children, force their women to breed slave-soldiers for their armies, anything and everything to further demonize the image of their enemies.
Fear was the perfect motivator at times like these, but many of the Brotherhood started to have doubts about the Elder's motivations. Lately, it seemed, he was spiraling out of control. His behavior became erratic, volatile even. It was the symptom of a man who knew his defeat was certain, and allowed it to break him.
"What?!" Larsson thundered upon hearing Arnem's report. He'd allowed the two friends to enter Landfall, eager to receive whatever news the front could bring. To his disappointment, it was the same as before. More bad news.
"T-That's what happened, Elder sir." The initiate repeated, "Cracked the whole mountain open and burned out everyone inside."
Larsson couldn't believe it. Another defeat, countless losses, irreparable damage to the Brotherhood's infrastructure. Something was wrong, someone was undermining their whole operation. It had to be that, for the Brotherhood made no mistakes. It had to be espionage. Their enemies were cunning and deceitful, they certainly had no qualms seeding spies and making traitors out of his men.
"And why, pray tell young man, why are you still alive?" The Elder snarled, hand pressing the grip of his laser-pistol.
"Uh... sir?" Arnem gulped, "We... we were assigned as lookouts. We couldn't reach anyone else, so we came straightaway here. Thought it best that word should reach the Chapter-"
His sentence was cut short as Larsson whipped out his weapon and shot Arnem through the eye, killing him instantly. Everyone in the room stood frozen in shock and watched as the Elder emptied the energy cell into the body, yelling how the filthy spies had infiltrated the base and how his own men couldn't tell the difference.
"Elder, get a hold of yourself!" Lancer-Commander Maxson cried, grabbing the weapon out of his hand and seizing the raging Elder till his senses returned. Larsson struggled to free himself from the woman's grip and wrenched his arms away. Her lancers aimed their weapons at the madman, while his loyal knights covered him from behind.
Blue-Eyes, furious over the murder of his friend, raised his rifle in an attempt to gun down the old man. He was stopped by two armored knights, who out of respect for the tenets of the Creed of Steel, chose to prevent needless deaths among their own. So there they were, guns out and pointed at each other. Overcome by grief and dismayed over the irony of their situation, the mute began to laugh. The Dominion hadn't even reached Landfall and the Brotherhood was already tearing itself apart.
"In the name of the Chain that Binds, I order you to stand down, Lancer-Commander!" Elder Larsson roared.
"The Chain does not bind me to you." Maxson replied coldly, "You've organized the assassination of the Dominion High Marshal, you've murdered a man who has given his life for the Brotherhood, and you claim to stand for its principles? You shame your uniform, you disgrace the Order of Steel."
"You would lecture me on 'principles'? Look around you!" Larsson was screaming now, "Our Chapter is on the verge of collapse- what I did and what I do now is all for the survival and preservation of the Brotherhood!"
"Oh yes, I look and I see clearly now. I see a Chapter compromising itself for the sake of victory, cladding itself with righteousness as it murders its way through the Wasteland. If this is what you call 'preservation', then it deserves to fall."
"How dare you?!"
"I dare, Elder. My father created this order to be a beacon to the lost, and it can be again- but without you."
Blue-Eyes stepped forward, bent down to lift his friend's body from the floor, and violently tore off the symbol of the Texan Chapter from his uniform. He carried Arnem out of Landfall, planning to bury him somewhere far far away from all this madness.
"Lancers, we return to the Righteous." Maxson declared, ordering her men to lower their weapons. They will defend Landfall from the Dominion, but the first chance she would get, she would have Larsson tried before the Elder Council. "And you, Elder... don't try to run."
"I'm not going anywhere, Lancer-Commander." Larsson said spitefully, "And neither will you."
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