Rebirth (Rebel Wars Book 2) Page 3
“Do you really believe that these Cydrakians have some sort of DNA manipulating technology?” He asked his mechanical friend.
“How else could a single planet hold out for nearly 50 years? Two generations of Corporation Commanders have waged assaults on the planet. Bacterial weapons and chemical agents fail after a time, and the reports of their resilience to typical weaponry is amazing. They’ve pulled all but two incredibly talented Commanders from the planet. To leave those two there, they must know something we don’t.” Alice said.
“Agreed. But I can’t support you taking my capital ships anymore. Phillip and his vessel have been put on far patrol away from the Tower. I don’t know what the hell that kid thinks he owes you, but he is too valuable to come running every time you need a thermonuclear back-scratch.”
“We only used that arsenal once Robert. And it was important.”
“Sure. No capital ships. You can take the Stormbreaker and Fiora’s team. If you need a few more guns, I’ll let you take one squad.”
“President. That’s myself, Fiora’s squad of 6, and another eight-man squad. You’re sending 15 men to break a Corporation assault on an alien world? You can’t be serious.” Alice said, the disbelief was evident in her voice.
“As a heart-attack. And Project remains here.” He said
“If you want me to kill fourteen people Robert I can save you the time and energy of sending us to a planet and just execute them myself.” She said. Robert stood up and drained his coffee cup, setting it on the table and catching his cane from the side of the table.
“It’s not that Alice. You have to believe me. We’re short on manpower right now and all of our fleets are busy protecting assets and engaging where we can. I want to give you more, but on fact, not on a hunch. If you get to Cydrak’s surface and her people decide to kill and eat you..well your men…then I’d rather mourn 15 then more than that. And sending you Fiora is going to hurt, she’s doing quite well for herself in climbing the Paladin ranks. The Paladin-General is not going to be happy when I give him the orders.”
“Fair enough. And the Paladin-General isn’t half the Paladin Alex nor Cal was. So I’m not concerned with him.” Alice said and stood up, excusing herself from the table. She walked out and into the sun, tightening the grip of the cloak and hood she wore. A few rogue glances wondered about why a figure felt the need to hide their features so much, but nobody bothered to stop her. Robert watched her leave, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. He wondered when he was going to stop giving in to Alice’s suicidal tendencies, but it was hard to stop her at this point. So much good (and bad) had been gained by her actions, and she was a rogue element. Part of his reasoning for suspending Project’s use was because he couldn’t trust the A.I.’s judgement when it came to Alice, and this mission was sensitive enough as-is without complicating the matter any further. He stepped out into the streets and waved at a few of the people, his guards materializing once-more. He supposed it probably wasn’t a bad thing to have them around after-all.
Chapter 3
The bowels of the Tower were mechanical wonders, catacombs designed to organize the myriad of pipes and electrical circuits that ran through-out the Tower. These deep-levels were known as the Tombs, and though the dead did not reside there, many who lived did. The pressure was slightly greater here than anywhere else, and the temperatures varied. Some parts of the tombs could be used to recreate frozen battlefields and others the torturous heat of a blazing desert world. These halls were the perfect grounds for training Paladins; the future warriors and teachers of humanity and the Rebellion. Artificial torches cast azure luminance against the metallic walls, every hall mapped out in a clear fashion to keep maintenance from getting lost.
Fiora hadn’t spent enough time in the Tombs to get comfortable with the changes in temperature and pressure yet, but it was where she had been fitted for armor and given her weapons. She had taken several classes on battlefield tactics and hand-to-hand combat, but she had much more to learn. The fact she had been given command of her own team sent ripples throughout the chain of command within the Tombs, upsetting the stricter Paladin officers. A few of them wrote letters to the President himself, demanding why he felt the need to overwrite their militaristic orders by giving a female trainee a squad and action. The President had visited them in person to explain that Fiora was going down a different path, her path was with Alice and the risky missions she requested. Alice needed strong back-up, and Fiora needed the experience.
The truth to Fiora was different. She believed that the only reason she’d been fast tracked is because of her studies with Cal, and that Alice and the President had a sense of guilt in his death and deemed the acceptable route to forgiveness was by ascending his pupil. This didn’t have any detrimental effect on her that she could tell, it made her work three times as hard as the others to prove her worth. She excelled in close quarters tactics and had progressed with her blade training faster than the old masters had seen in a long time. The Paladin order was falling short in most of the theaters, despite their armor and advanced weaponry; it seemed that the Corporation had compensated for them with snipers and long range explosives. The armor of the Paladin could withstand much, but it failed at times like anything else made by men. They needed strong leaders, and the Paladin-General was quite proud of how quickly Fiora had come up to the point he was starting to have hope in their order once again.
The Paladin-General was a complex man, a man clad in flamboyant crimson armor complete with gaudy shoulder pads that seemed far bigger than necessary. His own weapons- a pair of twin-sabers and a Storm box- were tucked neatly within their holsters on his belt and back. His feet were larger than her torso and seemed to bear the weight of the universe down when he walked. He was abnormally large, nearly ten-feet in stature and surrounded with muscular girth. Fiora had heard little about the genetic and surgical processes that Paladins endured to become larger and stronger than normal men, but had seen the scars on Cal’s body. She knew that she would give up much to take the surgeries on, but she needed to become more than she was. Those who became full Paladins were brilliant masters on the battlefield, and right now she was little more than a temporary threat to a full-geared Corporation Officer. Her entire squad of trainees had fought with everything they had just to bring the last apparatus wearing monster down.
He sensed her thoughts, or seemed to, and put a gigantic hand on her shoulders and gave her a nod. He beckoned towards the door of the barely lit chamber they were in, and placed his hands at his side. He had given her the order, and he knew she would obey. She put her hand on the door, only touching it for a second before it vanished as if it was never there. The doors here worked in odd ways, and she figured it was to prevent someone from getting trapped in an emergency. No light graced her eyes or gave her any help within the new room. One foot after the other, she journeyed into the darkness. The whoosh of the door re-appearing set her on edge, but realizing what it was didn’t give restore her nerves. That was okay, she needed to be on edge and alert. She had requested to begin the surgical process of enhancing her form, to become a Paladin Neophyte and eventually a Paladin. The Paladin-General hadn’t been convinced of her skill nor calm mind, and needed to see her in action. She wondered how he was going to manage that in the utter darkness.
A slithering sound caught her attention, but a little too late as the air rushed around her and the ground rose up to meet her. With a clatter of metal against stone, the wind was knocked out of her back. She rolled out of instinct, creating even more pain within her chest as she avoided whatever it was she had rolled away from. A spark lit the room as a metal blade collided with the stone. She rolled a second time, more clanks of metal and sparks filled the room. She kipped her legs up and sprang to her feet, reaching out and grabbing onto the metallic blade as it came at her face. In her mind she could sense it was a spear on a rope, like a harpoon that kept a repetitious cycle to its strikes. She had been correct, her hand diggi
ng into the metal spear, sliding down and gripping the bottom where the cord attached. She yanked as hard as she could and pushed downwards, ripping the cord from whatever it was held into. She dropped the spear and lurched forward, shoulder up and smashed into a wall after a few feet. The sound echoed through the room, but the pain in her shoulder was a dull roar compared to the screaming pain of the cuts on her palms.
This time she could hear the blade coming, a whip in the darkness trying to uproot her once more. She jumped off the ground, kicking against the wall and rolling into a cartwheel. She grabbed the cord as she went and lashed out with the blade against the owner. The blade struck something, she could feel the tension in the line of the cord but there was no metal against stone sound this time. Fiora used her left hand to grab the other side of the cord and pull it, whatever was on the other side was heavy and wouldn’t budge. She dropped the blade in response to another one coming at her, ducking below it and springing forward in a rush, spearing whoever this opponent was around the midsection. She dragged him to the ground and drove her elbow into his chest. He didn’t scream, but she heard the rapid expulsion of air from his chest. She stood up and tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear anything. The absence of sound was sharp and painful, and she could still feel little droplets of blood escaping the wound on her hands. She closed her eyes against the dark and tried to think.
The task was simple, to survive the room until the lights came on. She had known going into it that it would be dark and dangerous. So far it had lived up to its name, and she’d taken down two of her enemies. She tried to guess how many enemies she would have to face but gave up knowing she would never figure it out until the lights came on. Fiora moved back to the wall she had crashed into, following it with reserved caution. It didn’t matter where it went, only that it went. The cool metal soothed her throbbing hand, and cooled even further the deeper she went down the hall. She couldn’t hear the opponent this time, his or her movements were deliberate and precise. She did feel the boot colliding with the back of her knees, pushing her to the ground. She felt the other boot crush her back underneath it, sending her flat into the cement. She tried to push up with her hands, but the weight was too much. Another blow sent the wind out of her again, a final yank pulling her up and throwing her against an adjoining wall. She tried to lash out, but hit nothing in the dark. She couldn’t hear him, and now pain was flooding her senses. She ducked haphazardly before stumbling forward from the pain in her knee. She caught herself and whipped her leg to the left in a direct strike. Again she hit nothing, and sent herself back to the ground in pain.
Fiora caught her breath and stood, no more assaults coming her way. She continued along the path she was headed, desperately trying to get out of the room before stealthier attacks came her way. A fist struck her in the face, reeling her backwards with pain. She put the thoughts of a broken nose out of the way, bringing both of her arms up and catching the fist between her forearms before it could withdraw. She threw her weight to the right, bringing the fist with her and lashing out with her left leg, this time landing her foot deep within the stomach of her attacker. She released his arms and brought her left arm out, smacking his face as she rebalanced on her left foot. She heard him spit blood as he fell to the ground, bringing her right foot squarely on his back. She was about to smile when the blood from her own nose reminded her she was hurt, the warmth dripping into her mouth and flooding her taste-buds with copper.
She had trained in the dark before without giving it its proper respect. To her it seemed silly and unnecessary due to the equipment they had. Her visor would give her all the light she needed no matter the natural conditions, but the Paladin order seemed intent on everyone learning to fight without it. She cursed her limited attention span, swallowing a gulp of blood before spitting. She wanted to wipe the blood from her face, but she was too afraid to do so. She had to be on guard for the next attacker, didn’t she? Her thoughts drifted to Hero, he had managed to continue fighting even after being shot hadn’t he? He wasn’t half the warrior she was, and yet that sniveling boy had killed the man who tried to kill him! She shook her head and tried to focus in the darkness around her, then it occurred to her. They wouldn’t be going after her like this if they didn’t have their own way to see would they? She dropped down and found the man she’d knocked out, feeling for his eyes and finding she was correct. She ripped the goggles from his eyes and put them on her face, they were soft and small. Comfortable with only a slight hum as they filtered the darkness and created light for her eyes only.
With this new clarity she could see that there were three attackers left, all of them panicked when she put on the goggles. Two of them lunged after her, and the third looked back over his shoulder like he was waiting to say she cheated or looking for disapproval from a superior. She caught a glance of the camera he was looking at and nodded before dropping into combat stance. Her feet spread shoulder-length apart she slid her right foot forward to retain her balance. The first attacker came like a bullet from a slug-thrower, throwing himself at her with little grace. She swept his feet and moved like a wasp ready to sting, and sting she did. Her foot struck his unprotected sides and threw him against the wall. The second attack came at her with a heavy haymaker from the left, which she parried with her palms and directed him towards the ground. Her elbow knocked the back of his head, sending him to the floor with a gasp. The third man grabbed his rope and spear weapon from his side and spun the blade, generating a light wind in the otherwise still room. He threw the blade as she got closer, but it wasn’t fast enough. Fiora side-stepped the blade, grabbing the rope and ripping it from his hands. She threw it to the ground, a fire within her igniting and quickening her step. A few moments later and she was on him, though he threw his arms up to block her attack. They exchanged a flurry of blows and dodges, whipping and moving through the dark room. Fiora was impressed for a moment that passed without grace as he tripped over a fallen comrade and hit the ground. Fiora brought her heel down on his forehead, rendering him unconscious.
The lights came on in a flash, the goggles adjusting in an instant and preventing it from blinding her. The door vanished and the Paladin-General entered the room, his footsteps echoing in the square chamber. Emotion was rare on his face and it never betrayed his thoughts. Fiora expected this and was not let-down. He was quiet and said nothing, but the silence was broken when two other Paladins entered. She recognized them as Officers, men who specialized in training recruits. They hadn’t cared for Fiora’s meteoric ascension through their ranks and were quite vocal about it. They came in uttering curses and picking their fallen trainees from the ground. The Paladin-General waved a hand to silence them, and they fell quiet. They had earned many rights, including the right to disagree with the General but if he demanded silence, they gave it to him. A smile crept on his face, and he beckoned her to him. From his belt he withdrew a roll of parchment paper and handed it to her. Without a word, he spun on his feet and left the room with the rest of the Paladins in tow. She was shocked, bleeding, and exhausted from the effort. She had surprised herself in that room, and now she held permission from the Paladin-General himself to begin the process of becoming a real Paladin. She sobbed lightly in the empty room, a drop of blood landing on the paper in her hands. She marveled at the dream she had started to turn into a reality.
Master Tillman was seated in the heart of the Forge, a small chamber with a roaring fireplace and a homely feel to it. It reminded him of the books from Earth, where people lived in cottages and burned wood for heat in the dead of winter. He had only experienced a natural winter once, and had never burned wood to fuel a fire, those times had passed. This fireplace was simple and required no extra fuel to keep the fire burning, siphoning heat from one of the many metal foundries in the forge. He had fallen in love with the romantic notion of peace in study, surrounding his little are with books of rare origin and tables of rich wood. The smell was sweet and fragrant, mimicking the smells of fresh bak
ing in the oven. He had never tasted fresh baked goods from his grandmother, but the simulation was good enough.
Tillman lounged in his chair, a soft and beastly affair that warmed his flesh and comforted his aching back. No matter how many upgrades he implanted into his flesh, his back was still getting older and he’d never cure that pain. His face still held the spark of youth and light surgical methods had prevented the deep lines forming that had placed themselves on the President’s face. He smiled softly, remembering the times when they were more youthful, when the universe had opened up to them whole worlds of opportunity. Of course that was back when Alice and Alex had just gotten married, Tillman remembered those days with a wistful fondness. A ceramic mug of hot tea was in his hands, just a dash of sugar to bring out the sweetness of the peppermint tea. He took a sip with his thin lips and let them curl back to a smile. Ah the good days were done, and now new beginnings were in order. He wondered how long it would be before good days could come again, and how much blood would have to be spilt to make them return.
Dr. Tillman, the wife of the Master, entered the room through a small doorway opposite the fireplace. She stood up to full height, easily stretching past the four foot door frame, herself being nearly two feet taller. She smiled at her husband and made her way to the chair sitting beside his. He handed her a ceramic mug from the table next to him and she smiled gratefully. How they loved these moments in the depths of the forge, away from all of the trouble and chaos within the halls. Master and Doctor touched the rims of their mugs together and shared in a silent toast, both savoring the hot liquid within.