Prometheus Wakes (The Great Insurrection Book 4)

by David Beers

  Prometheus closed his eyes, and once again, the battle sounds ceased. He was alone. In the darkness of his mind, nothing could get in. Here, and if only for now, he was at peace.

  The pipe appeared in the darkness, although not as it had looked when his eyes were open. Everything was black and white, as if drawn in ash on white paper.

  Pro reached out with his mind, an odd feeling he didn't know how to describe even to himself. However, he did it as ruthlessly as he would fight with his Whip against an enemy.

  He blanketed himself over the pipe. They were the only two things inside his mind: him and that pipe.

  Suddenly the white color turned a liquid red, and Pro knew what had happened.

  His eyes opened wide again, and the drawbridge was falling. He glanced at the cog spinning wildly fast on his right, the melted pipe still red-hot inside the gears, which had been completely dismantled.

  The drawbridge landed on the other side, and the other three started their mad dash across.

  There you go, Allie, Luna said, and her voice surely would have included a smile if she stood in front of him. Now all you have to do is conquer two clans of giants and some wild bird creatures.

  Pro couldn't help but smile at the sarcastic version of Luna his mind projected. Gods, he loved her.

  The giants made it first. Thoreaux was close behind.

  They stared at the battle.

  "Same plan?" Thoreaux asked.

  "Of course," Prometheus responded. "Things are going splendidly so far."

  "You meant to take that long on the drawbridge, did you?" Thoreaux pulled the MechPulse off his back.

  "Oh, yeah," Alistair said. "All part of the plan. Let's go.”

  Nero's grin was wild, and he had a laser blade in each hand. "Yes. We probably should not take any more rests, spaceman."

  "What the fuck was that?" Bin screamed. "Someone tell me right now! What the fuck was that?"

  Everyone at the table was silent. No one looked at Bin. They had all seen something impossible. Not impossible, as in a man making an unreal leap or cutting down gigantes like stalks of corn.

  They stared at something that even the touched gigantes couldn't hope to do.

  "AI," Bin snarled, "tell me what I just saw. What did that man just do?"

  "I am not able to, Lord Dax," the AI responded, sounding positively perplexed.

  Bin knew what his brain was saying he'd seen.

  The former Titan had turned and faced the drawbridge. He'd stood there for five or ten seconds, then the metal pipe sticking out of the cog had melted.

  It had turned red, then for a brief instant, white-hot, then the cog had turned, the weight of the drawbridge too much, and the once-cold steel of the pipe was ripped apart.

  "Replay it," Bin commanded. "Show it to me again and zero in on the Titan's armor."

  There had to be some kind of weapon. They must have missed something because nothing else was possible.

  The AI did as it was told, slowing down the replay. As it showed the board members again, it said, "I've rerun the scene ten thousand times since it happened. There is no detectable weapon involved, Lord Dax."

  What in Hades do I do? Bin wondered. "Can we turn the gigantes’ focus on the intruders?"

  "Sir, with all due respect, there's no way to turn anything right now. This is the Battle of the Rocs."

  Bin whirled on the woman. "I know what the fuck it is. Is there anything we can do about these godsdamn intruders walking into our company?"

  Tinkerman, a usually quiet mustachioed man, leaned back in his chair and said very calmly, "I believe they may be doing something about it themselves right now." He pointed at the holovid in the middle of the table.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dead bodies lay strewn around the castle's main entrance. The gigantes inside had tried to close the gate, but the roc had eaten them like berries picked from plants. The roc could have gone through the entrance, but the creature was intelligent enough to know it was too big to be effective inside. Instead, it guarded the entrance, somehow knowing which gigante to let in and which to kill.

  Prometheus didn't have a damn clue how it knew. Maybe the fucking birds were as touched as Nero, but at least fifty dead laid next to it, and more gigante kept running beneath his massive wings to fill the castle.

  This battle was a massacre, a rout, and the mayhem that had once enveloped the area was quickly becoming a one-sided victory. Then the remaining clan's might could focus on Prometheus and his crew.

  The roc caught a glimpse of him, bent forward on its front talons, and screeched. Wind rushed around Prometheus, the air from the beast's lungs impressive by itself. Blood ran down its hard beak, and flesh hung from its teeth.

  "Is this the one?" Prometheus screamed.

  Nero cut through a gigante smaller than him about five yards from Pro. He looked over his shoulder and shouted back, oddly cool for all the death around him, "Unfortunately, no!"

  The other three were keeping the horde at bay, but it wouldn't last much longer. Prometheus knew what they had to do, and this godsdamn bird was in his way.

  There wasn't time to plan out a battle. The roc looked angry. Each of its eyes was almost as big as Prometheus. It scratched at the stony ground as if daring the small man to try to get past it.

  The creature was intelligent. It didn't walk out to attack Pro but remained at the gate, knowing that to give up its position could be disastrous.

  Gods be with me, Prometheus prayed silently. It was a foolish thing for him to do, but he knew of no other way to get around this creature besides divine intervention.

  He started forward, not letting his armor propel him too high. He wanted to remain close to the ground for this attack.

  The creature shrieked again, baring its razor-like teeth at him.

  Finally, when he was a few yards from it, the roc stepped forth, one massive talon raised and its beak open, ready to rip Prometheus to shreds.

  He dropped his feet and slid forward. Sparks flew around him as his metal armor scraped across the stone. He grabbed his Whip's hilt with both hands, flicking it out as far as it would go into the air and forming a straight line.

  A scream filled his helmet, one that sounded as if a god were dying. Prometheus was still skidding across the stone as blood and intestines fell on him.

  He reached the tail of the bird, thrust his foot down, and stood up, spinning in case the creature was still ready to battle.

  Prometheus watched from behind the roc. It staggered as it tried to turn around, as if the contents of its body weren't spreading out across the stone beneath it.

  The creature collapsed, and the great cry ended.

  Those still in the courtyard paused to stare at the dead roc.

  That was when the trouble started for Prometheus.

  Bin's anger had faded. His disbelief was gone.

  His father had taught him well of the gods. The Earthborn, if they believed at all, thought them beings who wound up this universe and then gallivanted away to their own homes in some parallel universe. The Earthborn could have cared less about the gods, thinking themselves the masters of this universe.

  Bin knew better.

  His father had taught him the truth. Humanity was but a speck that could be wiped out with a universal sneeze. It was important to know the gods and to respect them, for one day, humanity might need to call on them.

  Perhaps if they were respected, they would answer. Perhaps not. Either way, it was always best to respect them.

  Standing in a transport disguised as a cloud, Bin finally realized what he was looking at.

  A god.

  One transferred from the parallel universe, come here to show humanity what it meant to do battle. Bin realized this as the god cut down a roc, something that had never been done. The rocs died of old age, nothing else, not even in battle, but one was spread out in front of the ancient castle's gate, and the god was drenched in blood and guts.

  Bin knew mor
e than that it was a god. He knew which one. He was his father's son, and anything less would be unacceptable.

  This was Me'et. Death personified, the very consequence of war.

  "What do we do?" Bin asked as the god and his cohort rushed through the castle's gates. Those still standing on the ground did not follow, unable to believe what they'd just witnessed. Bin desperately looked around the table. No one, not a fucking one of his board members was looking back at him.

  "I think, sir, it may be time to return home. Let them fight out here. We can deal with the aftermath."

  Bin knew the truth, though he couldn't say it aloud. There wasn't any hiding from this god. Me'et had arrived, and death knew no boundaries. Here, there, it would come for them.

  All he managed to get out, though, was, "Okay. Get us back to the office."

  The two gigantes cranked the gates closed, one on either side tugging at the metal contraptions that would keep out the rest of the gigantes. Prometheus and Thoreaux cut down the giants in the great hall, then Pro took his helmet off and tossed it on the floor.

  Blood and intestines covered the faceplate. It was impossible to see through.

  "What was that?" he asked as he turned to find Nero. The entry hall was quiet and empty. Pro didn't know where the gigantes who’d flooded inside the gates were. For now, he didn't care.

  Sweat poured down Nero's face as he leaned against the closed gate. His wild smile covered his face, and madness danced in his eyes. "I told you death was coming, spaceman. Me, you, or the rocs, who can say?"

  Pro crossed the room in two steps, stopping in front of Nero. His anger nearly boiled over, but he kept his Whip at his side, its deadly tentacles sensing his nerves. "The rocs. What just happened?"

  It was Caesar who spoke from the other side of the gate. "You killed one of theirs, boss. It has never been done before."

  Pro's head whipped to the left. "Come again?"

  "It's never been done. Now they're coming to kill you."

  Prometheus paused, unable to find a single word.

  Those who walked the ground had all stopped fighting at the sight of a fallen roc. It was as if those who had lived inside the castle understood they would die once the rocs descended. Like they all had known there was no way to win, but they fought because they were meant to. When they saw one fall, they couldn't believe it, and the battle had stopped.

  That was for those on the ground. Those who flew?

  The shrieks had come from the entire sky, as if every one of the rocs had been killed instead of one. Prometheus had turned his eyes upward, and the flock that had allowed themselves to be ridden, to be controlled, ceased. They somehow knew one of theirs had died, and they'd turned to the gate.

  Even now, Prometheus heard them outside, shrieking their death threats at him as if daring him to step outside and face them once more.

  "Neither of you knew that would happen?" Prometheus looked at the two gigantes.

  They looked as dumbfounded as he felt.

  "How could we?" Caesar asked.

  Prometheus heard footsteps coming down the twin staircase leading out of the castle's entryway. He turned to see giants standing on the first landing.

  A group of ten were kneeling shoulder to shoulder. Their heads were bowed and their weapons were in front of them.

  Nero stepped up next to Prometheus. "The one in the middle is the second most powerful in my clan."

  Pro looked at Caesar.

  The giant nodded. "They serve you now."

  Prometheus' eyes traveled up the double staircase. As far as he could see, gigantes bowed in front of him. They had seen or heard about what he'd done to the roc. He was the strongest being they'd ever seen, and they'd been bred or taught to bow at times like this.

  As long as he had that strength, they were going to serve him, or at least until he could convince them they were free.

  "We serve," came a baritone voice from the middle of the stairs.

  "Stand," Prometheus said. He raised a hand and pointed at Thoreaux. "Listen to him for now." Turning to his second, he said, "Look, get them cleared off the stairwell. I've got to figure out what the fuck to do."

  Nothing had changed just because the gigantes saw him kill the roc. Or at least, nothing good. He still had to deal with the giant damn birds outside the gate who were screaming at him and mourning their dead.

  He ran his armored hand through his hair, forgetting about the blood he spread through it. The plan had been to get on the lead roc, thus killing the head gigante and capturing the bird at the same time. The rocs were built or made or whatever so they would serve a rider who could conquer them, the same as the gigantes. Apparently, no one had ever killed one of these creatures.

  Now one was dead, and getting atop the roc leader was seeming like a pretty far-fetched idea, given that they all wanted to kill him.

  "Caesar, Nero, what do you think happened to the clan leader? The one that would have been riding the lead roc?"

  The gigantes were almost no help. They had never seen anything like this. It was clear now that the reason they'd never mentioned the killing of a roc was that they'd never imagined it. To them, it would have been as strange as not serving a master, at least before Pro had met Caesar. It wasn't possible.

  The horde of giants was moving off the staircase now, filing into the entrance.

  Something huge banged into the gate, testing the metal bar lying across the inside of it. Pro knew the rocs could physically fit in here, at least some of them. If they got in, they'd lay waste to everyone, including him. What he didn't know was if the bar was going to hold up to the attack or if the door would collapse under the barrage.

  Eventually, it's going to collapse, Allie, his wife said without any humor. You know that. You underestimated these animals, and they don't seem ready to forgive the slaying of one of their own.

  Alistair squatted and closed his eyes, seeing Luna’s face. "I don't know what to do," he whispered.

  He couldn't kill them all.

  They were strange beasts, more terrifying than any army he'd faced. But without the ability to fly...

  Pro shook the thought off. It’d been Alistair thinking, but when he stopped, the warrior returned.

  "Thoreaux, I'm going to the spire. You all hold the door as long as you can. I imagine these creatures will know once I'm up there, and you won't have to worry."

  Thoreaux raised his eyebrows. "You know what you're doing? Because I sure as hell have no idea."

  "We're going to find out." He left his helmet on the floor, and with his Whip in hand, he climbed the steps leading to the highest spot this castle had to offer. There he would see what these beasts were about.

  Caesar watched Prometheus run up the stairs, his boots echoing on the stone. He moved upward, disappearing as the stairs took him higher. Caesar watched as the gigantes still on the stairs bowed as he passed them.

  Prometheus showed no fear, a stoic warrior.

  Caesar swallowed, wondering if his choice had been the right one. Of course he and Nero had known what would happen if he slaughtered one of the rocs. That was something the gigante were taught as children since killing one of those creatures would end an entire clan. They were vengeful, intelligent animals that would hunt their murderers until the end of time.

  That was why it didn't happen. Not because they were too strong or mighty, but because the gigante were not idiots.

  Nero came up next to Caesar. "We made the right choice. He will hold here, or he will die. This circle is his, not ours."

  Thoreaux was peering at them from across the room, ignoring the docile gigantes for now. He knew as well as everyone else that the game was over for these creatures. They all knew they wouldn't find anyone stronger in this jungle, so there was no more need to fight each other. They would listen until Prometheus fell.

  Thoreaux crossed the space between them. "Do you two know what's going to happen up there?"

  Caesar opened his mouth to speak, but Nero
beat him to it.

  "Now he decides how great he is," the giant answered. "That's all we know."

  For Caesar as well, that was the truth of the matter.

  In the end, Alistair had made a simple decision.

  Only he could get them out of this mess. It was he who’d decided to come to this planet. He who’d decided to attack this day. He who had killed the beautiful creature.

  Now it was he these rocs wanted, so it was he they would have.

  If they could take him. Prometheus stalked upward, not tiring, his body a precision-made machine that neither needed nor wanted rest. He wanted battle. He wanted freedom for his friends below and for those newcomers who had just pledged their lives to him. He could command every one of those gigantes to go outside and throw themselves against the rocs. He could watch as they all died, and in the end, it would only buy him time.

  He reached the spire and circled up it, heading to the very top. His plan had been to conquer the warrior who had conquered the lead roc. He would kill the clan leader, ensuring him a new clan’s fealty. Then with the rocs in tow, he’d intended to march from clan to clan until they were united.

  Then he would go to the corporation's main city and lay waste to it.

  A daring plan, and one that hopefully would have had some support from the dreadnought above. All that was dashed now.

  The rocs would not be controlled by him or those who had ridden them. Perhaps to them, this had been a game too, one in which they let the toy soldiers ride on their backs if they could wrangle them. When one of theirs died, though, all that had ended.

  Prometheus stood at the top of the spire, a small room with a balcony on the far side. The balcony had no banister. One walked out at one’s own risk.

  He heard the shrieks of the rocs. They weren't at the gate below anymore but had somehow followed him up here.

  How, Allie? his wife asked.

  He didn't know. Had they seen him in the spire's windows, watched him moving up here, and followed rather than batter themselves against the gates below?