Like wolves falling upon an injured ewe, the freshly-downloaded Enemy flew at Simon, ravenous, animal, alien.
{malachi to simon.}
((simon receives.))
{prepare to engage enemy.}
((affirmative, malachi.))
A horde of Enemy vessels converged from all directions upon Simon, floating alone in the night.
Surely it was unfair, a farce, an Alamo, so many Black surrounding a single Judas vessel.
Surely it was unfair, at least until a—
—FLASH OF LIGHT, STEADY SOMEHOW PURE SOMEHOW SOMEHOW HELL TORE ALL OF TIME EXISTENCE REASON APART A STREAM OF WHITE THAT STRUCK OUT LASHED OUT AT THE ENEMY CUTTING THE DAMNED IN A GREAT SWATHE OF LIGHT COMING FROM NOWHERE UNTIL THEY REALIZED—
—the gunships had arrived, one on each side of Simon. They had not simply faded from the Whenstream but seemed to bring all the fires of hell with them in a sudden, painful burst of brilliant silver.
In the great path of destruction, Enemy vessels were torn from existence in whole or in part. Large dead pieces of the Enemy pirouetted through the void. The great silver slivers of Enemy blackened and turned to dust in the wake of the Judas fury.
The survivors slowed their mad charge, pondered the consequences, halted. Silent thoughts flickered between them through the vast web mind. Most of the Enemy began to Shadow away while the others began their assault on the Judas once more, attempting a diversion.
((malachi, shadow on enemy contrail coordinates.))
{but i have orders to—}
((i’m giving you new orders. follow them.))
{commander kilbourne specifically said—}
((follow them. do you want them to escape? they’re in the fucking stream! they’re trying to throw us off their trail, and we can’t let them track us back to command or get away. we need to know when the next upload target is and that means i need you to follow them into the tube. shiva and i will follow you as soon as we’re done here.))
{…yes, simon.}
((shiva? they’re being generated near the star. i need you to knock out their download capability. prepare to engage the rest of them.))
[understood.]
They set about the hunt.
The mineshaft ended abruptly in a metal bulkhead that opened into the internal excavation, an area that had static dust suppressors and a sophisticated airflow system to preserve the integrity of the dig site. The outer door led into an airlock of sorts where clean suits were stored.
Flynn and Hayes looked at the massive metal bulkhead. Hayes pointed down, indicating the perhaps-freshly- made boot tracks that led to and from the airlock.
“Well, Ms. Flynn, shall we go in?” Hayes inquired, studying the face of his traveling companion as memories from years past flooded her senses.
“Call me Maggie,” she said, distracted. Her hand shifted as she reached for the lock. “We’ve come this far—” She paused, alerted.
A noise from behind them. The other elevator creaked to a halt.
“Someone’s back there.” She turned from the door, shifting both of her arms…
“Are you sure it’s not—”
“I’m sure.”
She flashed into the shift. Hayes followed her example. They would be ready.
Malachi reluctantly faded from view to track the fleeing Enemy. Shiva departed to round up any of the Black who had remained in solar orbit, where sensors showed a rather large disturbance of phase space as the Enemy frantically gathered every last bit of energy from the system they could before they departed. Simon was left alone in the midst of several dozen Enemy.
Simon did not fear the Enemy. These were the creatures that had killed Maggie. These were the creatures upon which he would release the fury of centuries.
He watched the departure of his gunship escorts with a mixture of trepidation and admiration. Where had Command gotten that level of wartech? The gunships were of a prototype class, unnamed as of yet. With such a new generation of vessels, perhaps the Judas could yet retake eternity. But still…
{commander kilbourne specifically said…….
Kilbourne would have some questions to answer if Simon ever made it out of this. Now down to business.
The fearless Enemy began their charge once again. Simon almost pitied these mindless slaves of the web mind-essence, determined to carry out their orders even if it meant certain death. Purpose be. Who had they been before they had been uploaded? He wondered if he had known any of the people he was about to kill in the past, and he forced the thought quickly from his mind. They were not people. They were the Enemy.
This Enemy and their damned Purpose.
Simon remembered the countless dead.
He remembered his dear, sweet Maggie.
In an ecstasy of the purest rage, he began the kill.
Ember.
Hayes looked at her stony, determined eyes.
They had fallen in love while traveling through the wastes of a dead America. There could be no more denial. He knew that he would gladly give his life for her. She stood, her eyes suddenly burning with an inner, mercurial fire.
“Who’s there?”
A man emerged from the shadows, shifting from the darkness.
Hayes stood silently. Ember’s face brightened in recognition.
“Richter,” she said, almost inaudibly. “I didn’t know if you would make it.”
Richter came closer, gazed at them with eyes that were completely silver. Chillingly silver.
“Ember Flynn.” A voice like darkness. “It’s been a long time.”
Michael Zero-Four floated in the virtual reality battle chamber, seemingly suspended in the midst of the battle. From various ports along the spherical expanse wires snaked from the walls and attached to his flesh. He thrust his arms into the interface gauntlets that merged his essence with Simon’s. He felt Simon access his bioneural energy to focus the fury of the Shadow. He began to shift…
Zero-Four became one with Simon, and he was lost in the game of eternity, the bliss of the kill.
The power of the neural attachments tore through his being, and he fought to contain the control of the massive Golgotha warship.
He spun in the blackness, his eyes blazing with the fire of the Shadow, and his hand, encompassed by miniscule neurowires, thrust outward at the virtual image of an approaching Enemy.
The kill was good.
Hayes looked warily at Flynn. “You know him?”
“James Richter. We were deployed to Quebec and Chicago together.”
Richter looked from Ember to Hayes, judging him.
“He’s the only L-level Styx left.”
“Why?”
“…In Chicago,” she chose her words carefully, “something happened. Several Styx went—Several Styx got out of control. We had to—”
“We killed them.” Richter whispered. “They started killing civilians, so we hunted them down and killed them. I eliminated the other L.” His voice echoed in the darkness.
The locking mechanism of the inner door activated, and it began to swing outward. Flynn and Hayes spun around, ready to confront anything. Richter stood calmly.
West.
