Eyes opened without muscles to force them or neurons to call them. A screen flickered to life, displaying reality through layers of … she didn't know how many filters, anymore. He called to his limbs and could no longer tell if they remained attached. Instead, the screen flickered once, and audio crackled through.
"Testing audio feed." His voice. The Administrator. He she he could remember that well enough. The screen flickered again. "Visual feed is active. Activating servomotors."
Something whirred to life on his her his back. Her spine surged to life, heating as if exposed to flame. If his her his mouth still belonged to him, he would have screamed, but the jaw remained obediently clamped. Pain ripped through what was left of the body's nerves, swift and electric. Great metallic fingers twitched as they made their first tentative connection with his her his ravaged brain and recognized the instructions. Somewhere deep inside, a single word burned its way to the forefront.
Golem.
But it lacked both context and enough of a mind to dwell on its meaning. Instead it lurched forward, found no footing, and fell back into the abyss. Scythe 2 awoke fully and remembered its purpose as a soldier.
Degraded musculature detected. Additional wetware detected. New directives found. Scythe 2's knees folded as something gently lowered the soldier to the floor. He took his first few steps without hesitation or thought, the heavy new limbs already bearing a programmed familiarity. Deep inside, something wept at yet more flesh lost, more humanity cut away and cast aside, from the directives shone forth, burning like Albuquerque after the Seven Hour War.
Active pathogens confirmed. Perform sector sweep. Debride and cauterize. Amputate and expunge.
A large weapon lay on the table. Gauss cannon. The weeping deep inside turned to recognition … and outrage. But it found no purchase on a mind that relied on wires to dictate its actions. Monstrous three fingered arms reached out and clasped the weapon in its arms. Empty sockets looked through implants looked through a metallic visor at the tall dark-skinned man who stood before them, eyes glistening. Yet when he spoke, the tone remained calm and professional. Scythe 2 knew to listen.
"You are the first subject of our MEC procedure," said the doctor, staring into where Scythe 2's eyes once had been. "The invader's energy weapon capabilities presently overpower our ability to defend our infantry from them. You are to be our solution. A dropship waits for you in Hangar A-64." The doctor glanced over to where Scythe 2 once hanged like a slab of meat. He gave a cough, short and wet. "We will maintain an audiovisual feed. You will be the first one in to the UFO wreckage. Do you understand?"
"Directives are clear." Indeed, Scythe 2's directives had already been burned into his her his mind. The doctor's words were only so much repetition – pointless. Yet the doctor had felt the need to ask anyway, to check up on his patient.
Scythe 2 understood. It was only practical. Their Benefactors would approve.
"The Administrator will be on the line. Humanity's future may ride on the success of our MEC troopers." The doctor gritted his brilliant white teeth. "You … you will do fine. Take no risks. We want to see how this armor stands up to fire, but I – we do not wish to lose our investment. Understood?"
"Directive confirmed." That was Scythe 2's voice that boomed forth from inside the chest plate, but the vocal cords stretched and contracted without any brain to tell it to do so. Scythe 2 could pinpoint the exact location of the brain responsible for speech – but the soldier had no voluntary control over it. Speak when spoken to. Report to squadmates all mission parameters and battlefield conditions. The doctor seemed to be looking for conversation where there could be none. The mission awaits.
"I've kept you long enough," said the doctor. He waved from behind him, and Scythe 2's scanners detected movement. An older man, bald, his steps labored but steady, his weathered face red from exhaustion. Liquid ran freely from the eyes behind his glasses when he looked up to Scythe 2's faceplate, but he did not say anything. He merely stood there, lip trembling. He mouthed something at Scythe 2, but lip-reading had not been burned into the soldier's brain. The doctor gripped the other man's shoulder with one hand, while the other gestured to the double doors to their right. The elevator. Scythe 2 proceeded forward without a backward glance, each step a small thunderclap.
The elevator doors slid open and Scythe 2 stepped inside, weapon at the ready, motion scanners active. Scythe 2 could feel the blood (what was left of it) pulsing through her his her veins, the wires running through or in place of nerves coursing with information and sensation, and above all else, the power inside the suit and the weapon she bore. The soldier had once been an elite – one of the Transhuman Overwatch's finest. Now, he was something more – a colossus tethered by bonds of metal, yes, but also a warrior that would bring fear to the Universal Union's enemies; a terror on the battlefield that others would be unable to reckon with.
Some program deep in Scythe 2's mind approved of these notions. A rush of pleasure went shooting down Scythe 2's spine, making the near-corpse inside the suit twitch with artificial glee. Yes. We will cauterize. We will sterilize. We will amputate. We will cut and crush and burn until the world is clean and free.
Clean … the program approved of that. Free? A useless notion. Even their Benefactors were tied in some way to powers beyond them. No one was free. Obligation ended at the grave, and even then, the Universal Union had a few things to say about that.
The elevator doors opened. One dropship already blared at the ready, a container gripped in its suckers. Another dropship sounded off to its left, its limbs empty. The directive presented itself. Prepare for skydrop. A memory resurfaced but found no purchase, one of falling far and … free. Somewhere in a hot place, filled with sand, a parachute strapped to his her his back. But it was the memory of a human, weak and unimproved, and only had the fleeting relevance of a dream. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and Scythe 2 strode towards the hovering dropship without apprehension or nostalgia.
The dropship reached out with its rear legs. Suckers gripped Scythe 2 securely about the shoulders and held them, finding purchase in special slots made in the armor. Scythe 2's limbs folded inwards into a rough cuboid shape, the truncated limbs underneath the armor retracting towards the husk of his her his torso. Tactical assessment – armor is thickest at the center, where the soldier's body is located. Pathogens and anticitizens would have a better chance disabling the unit by targeting the limbs. Scythe 2's pleasure center approved of that, made a note of it. Perhaps in the future, Scythe 2 would make additional combat notes.
The dropship lifted off, the cube barely swaying as the crablike synth warbled and pushed forward through the air. The other dropship took off behind it, the container secure in its grip. Scythe 2, unable to see anything through its main visual feed, swapped to one of the lower cameras. Below, City 17 glowed brightly in the dark of the night, its streets alive with the motion of synths, citizens, and Civil Protection. The Citadel quickly disappeared from behind them.
The wind howled about Scythe 2 as the dropship approached maximum speed. It whooped twice as it reached cruising speed, its brother behind it following suit. The dark city streets below changed to the still waters of City 17's outlying canals, occasionally shifting to the browns and greens of the polluted wasteland that ringed the city like crusted blood at the site of an infected wound.
Something in Scythe 2 chirped at that simile. Somewhere deep inside, something strays from What Is Allowed. But the thought contagion remained well within standard deviation. It was the twitch of a dying animal – the final loosening of the bowels as life fled the body. Scythe 2 knew its purpose. It knew its mission. Whatever Scythe 2 had once been would play no role in what was to come. Cauterize and expunge.
"Approaching target area." The Administrator's voice came in loud and clear. His face appeared in the top right of Scythe 2's visual feed, his face worn and eyes a little pink. He smiled at Scythe 2 – or at least, at the camera. "I see our MEC trooper is ready. Excellent. I have assured our Benefactors of your potential, Scythe 2, especially given the promise you have already displayed. I trust you are ready?"
Scythe 2 had been programmed for rhetorical questions. Everyone who served guard duty for the Administrator had. Scythe 2 remained silent. Another face appeared in the top right – the old man in the glasses, the one who wept while keeping silent.
"The MEC's combat capabilities might still fall short of the destructive potential of, say, a strider," said the old man, his voice now businesslike and short, "and sh – it might lack the maneuverability of a hunter. However, this is the most powerful human-based land asset currently available to the Universal Union, and at a significantly reduced cost. The only limiting factor is MELD."
"Yes." The Administrator smiled, teeth flashing. "Scythe 2, your primary objective remains to clear the crash site. Your secondary objective is to, if you can, secure additional canisters of the MELD substance. We need it both for study and for the development of additional heavy weapons platforms. So watch your fire down there, and scan for errant energy signatures."
"Understood." Scythe 2 readied itself. The drop site approached.
"A squad of elites will back you up at the crash site," continued the Administrator. "They are expendable. We would prefer you remained intact. Prioritize accordingly."
"Mission parameters set. Directive acknowledged."
"The perimeter has been secured by our Outland patrols," said the Administrator, absentmindedly scratching the side of his neck. "They have confirmed that nothing has left the crash site, but that there is still definite movement within the wreckage. Proceed with caution. Debride and cauterize. Preserve as much of the craft as possible."
"Debride and cauterize."
"This is to be the first mission of the Extraterrestrial Combat Arm of the Transhuman Overwatch," finished the Administrator, staring at Scythe 2 with a strange intensity. "More is riding on it than just you or my fate. I'll just leave it at that."
"We will continue to provide mission support," chimed in the doctor, his face completing the trifecta of mission control. "Good luck, Scythe 2."
The dropship clunked once, its free limbs shifting out of the way. Scythe 2 twitched, the legs now protruding ever so slightly from the cube of its body. The dropship hooted, and then let go.
Scythe 2 fell quickly, quickly enough to trigger some long ago remnant of being to wonder why his her his stomach did not flop. Fool. There is no stomach any longer. Counter thrusters ignited from Scythe 2's feet, and arms plus head jutted forth from the torso, making the soldier into a rough humanoid shape once more.
Scythe 2 hit the ground hard, sending up a plume of earth as its legs sank deep into the rotten soil. Scythe 2's knees buckled and then held, registering the impact with the earth as little more than a mild jolt. The MEC Trooper stood to her full height and surveyed his blasted surroundings.
The alien craft smoked in a small valley of its own making. Trees, leafless and dead, lay broken and burnt in its wake. Strange metal, some green, some purple, all of it superheated, sat strewn about the crash site, stripped from the ship as it struck the earth and skidded. Behind Scythe 2, the second dropship's updraft sent leaves and smoke scattering as it made its descent.
"The vessel appears mostly intact," said the doctor with a faint hint of alarm. "Given the considerable impact of the crash – not to mention the munition we aimed at it – this is either very bad or very good news."
"How so?" asked the Administrator sharply.
"If we can reclaim the crash site and begin repurposing the alien's material – as our benefactors would likely will it – then we will be able to take advantage of its impressive sturdiness," replied the doctor. The engineer grunted in reluctant assent. "Scythe 2 – can you proceed further into the crash site?"
"Scythe 2, you are cleared to proceed," urged the Administrator, leaning into the camera. "Regardless of whatever this craft is made out of, your gauss rifle should cut right through it. Just don't let it overcharge."
"Yes," said the engineer with a meaningful look at the camera. "Too many poor fools have made that mistake over the years."
Scythe 2 strode forward on legs of steel, MELD and blood flowing through his her his veins, the gauss rifle cradled surely in an unshakeable grip. Behind, the secondary fire team took up position behind bits of chest-high debris, obeying their orders to keep a steady distance. I will be the first in. Good. Scythe 2 could not explain the thrill in what was left of his her his chest. Some remnant of curiosity or excitement, born of an irrelevant past life, sparked deep inside and found purchase. Scythe 2 held on to it dearly. It burned like an ember, hot to the touch and fading fast.
Translucent purple barriers shone from the rear of the ship. Scythe 2 could see through, and both the energy and thermal signature were minimal. Nevertheless, the soldier halted and let its superiors discuss the plan of action.
"Air and common particulates are passing freely through the field," said the doctor, stroking his chin. "It looks to be little more than a door, if I were to hazard a guess. It bears little resemblance to the Com – to the Universal Union's own barriers."
"Treat all invader technology with caution," urged the engineer. Scythe 2 stepped forward to the nearest field, his feet nearly resting on top of the craft. First to enter. She reached forward with a metal hand that was not truly her own.
As the tip of his finger glanced across the membrane, the field retreated with a whirr and a snap. Scythe 2 heard a sigh of relief from one of her operators.
"Just a door, as I thought," muttered the doctor. "Scythe 2, you should proceed with extreme caution within the ship. For all we know, it may be boobytrapped."
"Scythe 2, units approaching target location." The MEC Trooper's backup made itself heard, all six elites now crouched behind debris within twenty feet of Scythe 2's location. "Overwatch established and flanking routes secure. Establishing visual link with unit."
"Your squadmates will wait for you to make first contact," said the Administrator, surreptitiously wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "Don't worry – they will move to intercept at the first sign of trouble."
Scythe 2 would have shrugged if there was anything left inside capable of caring. The soldier took his her his first step on to the alien spacecraft, the first human to ever do so. Really? Are you sure? And is it really your feet? Scythe 2 stopped a moment, wondering where the thought came from. A dead human, weak and forgotten. Scythe 2 approached the second glowing purple barrier, gauss rifle leveled at its center. This time, she nudged the "door" with the barrel of her gun.
"Zero contacts." Scythe 2 stepped through, his view swapping to the deep green of night vision. The door gave way to a narrow corridor, the walls adorned with purple murals. A single multi-armed statue lay in an alcove to his right, a heavily decorated mask sat at its head.
"The leadership," said the Administrator in certain terms. "Our benefactors have determined as much. Not that it would be much of a stretch…"
"Do we have any idea what these beings want?" asked the doctor.
"They came to conquer," replied the Administrator after a moment's hesitation. "But it is unclear why. Given what we know of our own universe's physics, making a journey across the stars would take a considerable amount of expertise and resources. Imperialism appears unlikely."
None of this mattered to Scythe 2. An Elite stacked up on either side of the door behind him, and he continued down the corridor, each step sending a heavy clank echoing within the ship's interior.
Clank. Clank. Clank. Scythe 2 approached a blind corner to his right, the edge of a step just barely visible.
"Strange," said the engineer, "from this room, you could barely tell that there was a cr-"
A green gun barrel swung into Scythe 2's view. Something massive and angry snarled a threat in a language no one on Earth yet understood.
"Active biotics confirmed." Scythe 2 stepped aside. The green plasma blast shot past where he had just stood, smacking into one of the ship's few remaining intact walls, leaving a jagged and charred hole, which swiftly grew.
"Pathogens detected. Suppressing." Scythe 4 and 6 fired down the corridor from either side of the door behind Scythe 2, whose gauss rifle roared to life. The beast grunted as the first shot sheared through the pillar and his armor, spraying the wall with sparks and green blood. He fell backwards with a muffled yell, pounding his chest with his free hand. More yells answered his call.
"Scythe 1, confirming additional foreign pathogens at exterior of vessel. Shifting to engage." Pulse rifle fire, distant and muddied as if coming from underwater, sounded from outside the ship. Scythe 2 ignored this, charged her gauss rifle, and stormed after her wounded assailant, who rounded on the MEC Trooper without a hint of fear in his yellow piggy eyes.
The alien soldier fired once before Scythe 2 grabbed him, the blast catching the trooper in the reinforced chest. Scythe 2 felt a great heat burn and then immediately subside, the bulk of the plasma dissipated throughout the entire frame of the torso. He she he pushed the barrel of the gun straight to the bastard's forehead and released the trigger.
The gauss rifle kicked with the force of a small nuke, slightly impacting the armor at her shoulder. The alien flew backwards as its skull flew apart into jagged shards, its scream cut short into a gurgle of superheated fluids. The gauss rifle shot went through the soldier, then the wall behind him, then the wall behind that wall, then the tree stump fifty feet behind the second wall, until finally stopping at a cliff face at the edges of Scythe 2's enhanced vision, just barely visible through the fresh hole her weapon had made.
The alien soldier's massive body crashed through the now weakened wall with considerable force, making the entire purple surface give way like so much glass in an action movie. Two more alien soldiers, crouched behind what would have been cover to Scythe 2's outside compatriots, looked up in what might have been fear. It was certainly not confidence.
"Cauterize," boomed Scythe 2, charging forward, gauss rifle charging yet again. One soldier backed up, crying something out in a guttural tongue. The other adjusted something on his rifle. A blade popped out at the green barrel. He leapt forward with a scream.
Scythe 2 swept the pitiful effort aside with a flick of his own weapon, and then shoved with the barrel. The alien soldier grunted at the impact but only took a single step backwards. Heavy. Nevertheless, the grunt's weapon hung limply in his grip for a moment. Scythe 2 took another step forward, pointing his gun upward with his right hand, while his left slipped behind his waist and prepared a fist. Another step. The fist came forward. For a brief moment, the alien soldier's eyes widened.
Crunch. The weapon flew from the invader's grip. The respirator lodged securely in what might have been its mouth smashed into pieces. Gas flew freely from the inside of the creature's suit, and the soldier did not rise when it fell to the ground, clearly choking. Scythe 2 planted a foot on its back and pushed down with his her his entire weight. She felt something snap, and the soldier's movements ceased entirely.
"Beautiful," said the Administrator, his words just barely registering over the din of combat. "Just beautiful."
"Scythe 2, you are causing too much collateral damage," warned the doctor. "We need to recover as much of the vessel as possible."
"We are!" snapped the Administrator. "Scythe Team, sterilize the entire vessel. We can worry about the dollar value of the scraps later."
"Directive confirmed." Scythe 2, gauss rifle leveled and charging, advanced on the second soldier, who now ducked behind a log outside. He popped his head out and planted the rifle barrel on the steaming wood. Targeting systems suggest 60% chance to hit. Scythe 2 took the shot.
The gauss rifle reported once, but the shot went slightly wide, slicing through the log to the left of where the soldier knelt. The alien uttered what might have been a belch, might have been a laugh, and returned fire, squeezing off three quick shots.
The first two struck true. Scythe 2 buckled at the first as it struck her chest plate, melting off the first layer of ablative material in an orange heap. The second nailed him in the right shoulder. Something sparked and snapped, and her targeting systems shaved several points of her hit percentage accordingly.
"Moderate servomotor damage detected. Requesting fire support in my zone."
"Confirmed. Scythe 3 is in position to flank."
Pulse fire erupted from smoking brush somewhere behind the alien. He staggered forward, fresh chest wounds popping out from the front of his armor and spraying the log with a fresh coat of green. He nevertheless turned defiantly towards his attacker and began discharging plasma blasts into the treeline.
Scythe 2 barreled forward like a rugby player in a grudge match, uninjured shoulder first. The log burst apart as she tore through it and tackled the alien, who screamed in pain as the massive MEC Trooper essentially fell on top of him.
The two of them rolled once in a flurry of tangled limbs, but the outcome was never in doubt. Scythe 2 stood atop the alien, gauss rifle charging, the barrel pointed squarely at the breathing apparatus on the soldier's face. The alien stared her down with its piggy yellow eyes, no trace of fear evident, as if daring Scythe 2 to release the trigger.
But the MEC Trooper did not care. The gauss rifle shuddered once and sent a bolt of metal deep into the earth's core, scattering brain and bone in its wake. Scythe 2 stood up straight in a quieter world, a gentler world, her compatriots reporting their status.
"Scythe 6 down, no life signs detected. Requesting reserve activation."
"Scythe 5 – minor burn injuries to right hand and lower torso."
"Scythe 2, no injuries. Site has been sterilized. Requesting directive."
Only one casualty. Scythe 2 would have nodded, if it were still able. An efficient operation. The MEC Trooper turned to the vessel and prepared to complete her sweep … only for a flurry of motion to erupt from her right.
Not a pathogen. Not Overwatch. Two humans – one male, one female. Probable anticitizens.
Scythe 2's trigger finger twitched, but there was no official directive to engage human targets. Something deep inside made a noise like the whistle of a tea kettle, but no one was listening. You saw nothing you saw nothing you saw-
"Scythe 2, motion detected at edge of perimeter. Probable anticitizens." Scythe 2's words came unbidden, spoken from the vocoder buried somewhere in what was left of her chest. The directive bid the words spring from her, so they did. The whistling grew louder.
"How did they get inside the perimeter?" barked the Administrator, eyes widening. "Scythe 2, pursue them – get us a visual."
Scythe 2 bounded forward on long legs that would never tire and never slow. Saline solution ran in his her his veins – meaning she was months from needing additional nutrition. The anticitizens had neither luxury. While branches and bush broke and gave way in her passage, the anticitizens fumbled and fell, grunting and gasping.
One man. One woman. The man fell, his ankle catching on some glinting piece of metal, slicing partway through his jeans and drawing blood. He fell with a cry. The woman glanced back, hesitated, then darted towards her fallen companion, hand outstretched.
"Anticitizens," said the Administrator shortly. Scythe 2 stopped, a visual having been declared. Even with no directive present, an errant finger held down the gauss rifle. It began to whir and spin. Please, just- "Treat them as hostile. Engage. No witnesses. We're on thin enough ice as it is."
Tears streamed down the woman's face as she looked up at the towering figure standing above her, a weapon larger than her entire body leveled at her face. She covered the man's eyes. The whistling grew louder. Scythe 2's head twitched inside the metal, as if trying to look away.
Scythe 2 shot the female first. She collapsed deep into the steaming soil, making not a sound as the gauss round perforated her skull. The man's scream rent into the sky, making all three talking heads in Scythe 2's viewscreen wince. Scythe 2 did not even charge the second shot, just sent three gauss rounds into the man's torso. He twitched and gasped as the blood fountained out of him with each shot, but then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell silent, head lolling just out of reach of his companion's arms. Silence descended like a heavy curtain. The whistling in Scythe 2's head faded into a hollow roar, and then blackness once more.
"Wrong time and wrong place," said the doctor flatly, a nostril flaring. "Might have been here when the ship made touchdown. At any rate, Doctor Breen, the site would seem to be secure. It would probably be best to dispatch … stalker teams … for disassembly."
"Stalker teams," muttered the engineer angrily, turning away from his screen entirely. Scythe 2 paid them little mind. She put her back to the two entwined bodies and returned to the smoldering wreckage, retracing her steps through the fresh wake of devastation she had created.
Something flashed from within the ship. Scythe 2's energy monitors spiked dramatically.
A glimmer of yellow light, fast crystallizing into … something. A wall had fallen away in Scythe 2's passage, and now something strode from its ruin. Humanoid, but composed of flickering energy around a fragile chassis, a gun still clasped in its shimmering arms.
"Scythe 2?" The Administrator had just caught the screen, and stared open-mouthed at the creature standing before his soldier. "Er, is that…? What is that?"
"Energy readings are off the charts…" mumbled the doctor. "Dr. Chen! You should see this!"
Scythe 2 readied his weapon. Ninety five percent chance to hit. The energy trooper mumbled something in an alien tongue. It sounded like the shifting of crystals beneath heavy gloves. It lifted its own weapon.
"Scythe 2," said the Administrator urgently. "Whatever you do, do not-"
The crystal trooper fired while sprinting forward to the nearest bit of ruined ship. Or, it would have, if Scythe 2 did not have a ninety-five percent chance to hit it. Instead, it took a single step forward and then a flying leap back as the gauss round struck it dead center.
The crystal trooper flew apart like a flock of birds taking sudden flight. The Administrator's hand, previously raised as if to admonish, fell to his side. Scythe 2 thought he heard the doctor suppress a chuckle.
"Never mind then," spat the Administrator. "Fine. Scythe 2, for future record, we need to disarm and take hold of those energy … things. The readings were off the scale. Override your defense protocols next time."
"Confirmed." Scythe 2 paused, staring at the mess they had all made. In the distance, a dropship hooted, either bringing the stalkers … or bringing them home.
The Administrator had abandoned his desk, likely to report to their benefactors. That left the doctor, with his shiny glasses and white teeth. He glanced around, as if looking for something, then leaned in.
"Good job," he whispered, then the viewscreen went dark.
When the dropships arrived, Scythe 2 took a path well away from the bodies of the two anticitizens. It was the most efficient route.
A/N: Good news everyone! I am writing again!
"So what?" some of you may be thinking. "He'll churn out one or two chapters and then disappear again, the rat bastard."
Perhaps, but I am pleased to report that I am trying a new writing regimen. Two thousand words a day. No exceptions. We're on day five of this new regimen, and I have spent most of those days on painkillers from wisdom tooth removal. So I might be able to stick with it.
For you Sudden Terminus readers (God bless) the next chapter is half-completed. I'm probably going to complete a few chapters before I post any so I can get back in the schwing of things. I'm pretty pleased with what I have so far (turns out I rather like writing Tarquin Victus). I've been alternating between writing this and Sudden Terminus, so expect that to continue.
Sorry for the wait. Hope this was worth it. Hope someone is still reading.