by David Beers
It was there that he changed. He became more than the tool of destruction. He became more than the Commonwealth or the missile seeking to blow it up.
He, perhaps for the first time in his life, became something more than human. Something greater than a warrior.
The legend that people should talk about is how he offered peace and an apology. Perhaps that is the true measure of a man. Looking back on everything we've done, I may be proudest of him at that moment.
Chapter Nineteen
Servia had almost given up hope for the man who had left the ship two weeks ago. The first four days or so had been as stressful as any she could remember. No one knew whether those below were still alive. There'd been no more messages from the corporation, and when they looked down on the jungle, they saw nothing from their high vantage point.
They'd seen the flames burn the vast area, and everyone had hoped that hadn't been the end of the loved ones they'd sent down there. They couldn't know though, not for sure. Not yet. The AllMother said she couldn't see anything. She was too far away and the planet was too large for her to find them. For the first time in a long time, though, she gave her opinion.
"Trust him. I still do."
It wasn't until five or six days later—Servia wasn’t sure—that they saw the first signs of Pro's work.
Servia had held it together over those first days, doing her best to keep a stiff upper lip.
When she saw the fires, she knew they were from Prometheus. There were so many of them dotting the landscape that they couldn't possibly be anything else. They stretched on for miles.
The first person she'd called to view them with her was Faitrin. The woman wept as she looked through the darkness at the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of fires that Pro's troops were making at night to cook their food and keep warm.
Servia called the rest of his council to her. "Look," she said and pointed at the holovid in front of her.
Relm's eyes widened, and the AllMother gave a small smile.
"He's doing it," she said.
Servia broadcasted that holovid to the entire dreadnought. A roar went up from the gigantes when they saw the night fires. They more than anyone knew what it meant. The liberation of their kind.
When the room had cleared, Servia allowed herself to weep. She knew it wasn't over. Prometheus had still not contacted them, and although the fires moved closer to the city, more showing up with each passing night, they still hadn't reached it.
Still, she felt relief.
For now, they lived.
Maybe not forever, but for now.
Ave, Prometheus, Servia thought.
There simply wasn't any other way to get to the main corporation. They had no method of flight, and Alistair certainly wouldn't try to wrangle any rocs. No, it was by foot that they would reach their enemies.
In truth, it was the best way. It took longer, but Alistair came to understand his army in a way he never could have with quicker movement. He commanded they move through all of the games, from sector to sector, and as they ventured farther from the original, his fame grew.
The word spread.
You could fight if you wanted, but you would lose. So many gigantes were already following him, no individual clan could hope to overcome him. More, by joining, you would have the chance to march on the makers. That was where Prometheus the Fire Bringer was heading.
Alistair let the legends grow across the planet as day after day passed. It wasn't anything he was comfortable with, but he understood the necessity. The legend bred compliance, and the end goal was what mattered. Freeing the gigantes. Giving them choices. Stopping the insane breeding that took place here.
Alistair understood why the powers that be hadn't simply burned them alive, or he figured he did. He thought the corporation was too frightened to burn their entire inventory. From the scouts Alistair sent ahead, the corporation also believed they could stop Alistair's advance when he reached their city.
That was their plan: kill him when he arrived at their gates and simultaneously save their inventory.
Maybe they would, but Alistair was going all the same.
Night fell once again, and the fires burned for long miles. Alistair stood on a hill and looked down at them, each one a symbol. They believed in him, just as the AllMother's troops had in the beginning. Each fire symbolized that belief.
He heard Thoreaux approaching behind him.
"What do the scouts say?" he asked.
"It's a formidable defense, Pro. They've got a lot of those droids we saw when we landed here. Hundreds. They're going to be hard to bring down, and they've got air support." Thoreaux was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Are you sure this is what we want to do? A lot of gigantes are going to die tomorrow if we go through with it."
Alistair put both hands on his hips. "They're going to die if we don't do it and in much the same fashion, except it will be at the behest of and for the monetary gain of someone else. Tomorrow, many may die, but the ones who survive will never have to fight or die for anyone else again."
Thoreaux said nothing, only stared at the campfires.
"How is Caesar?" Alistair asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Quiet. He hasn't said much to me or anyone else."
"Nero?"
"He might be the only gigante talking. I can't be certain, but he might be drunk. He sounds half-crazy either way."
Alistair understood it. To many of the gigantes, they were going up against their gods tomorrow: the makers, those who gave them life. Whether or not they were evil, they were still life-givers. Perhaps some of the gigantes thought they couldn't win. Alistair couldn't know the end of any battle, but he'd come through hell to get here, starting with jumping from that building when the Titans chased him. Perhaps they would lose, or maybe fate was at their back, propelling them forward. Alistair didn't care either way. He'd made up his mind that those who pitted gigante against gigante would see him at dawn tomorrow.
"Have as many as you can gather at this hill two hours before dawn. I'd like to address as many as I can."
"Yes, sir," Thoreaux said. He stood in silence for a few more moments, then clapped his hand on Alistair's back.
Alistair thought back to what Faitrin had said: the change in Thoreaux, the added ruthlessness. He hoped it would be here tomorrow. They were going to need it.
The masses stood before Alistair. He wondered if this was what ancient Roman generals had felt like before battle. He'd never addressed such a huge crowd of warriors, and he wondered if anyone alive had. Most of the human race had not done serious battle for centuries, certainly nothing like what was to come tomorrow.
Thousands of soldiers were spread before him. They were nearly two miles from the city's outskirts. When he was finished addressing them, they would begin their descent on the makers.
Alistair had placed his helmet on, pulling back the faceplate so they could see him as he spoke. The armor would still amplify his voice a great deal. Most below him would be able to hear him.
"Many of you only know me by name. Only some have seen me up close. Even fewer have seen me in battle."
He started pacing to his right, looking down at the ground as he spoke.
"Most of you have only heard of me. Prometheus. The Fire Bringer. The Roc-Killer. The Liberator." He stopped walking and looked at the warriors. "I don't care what you call me so long as you understand my purpose. I came here for one reason." He turned slightly and pointed toward the city. "To go there and kill those who enslave you."
He looked down at his feet and basked in the silence.
"You and I are very similar, although you may not think so. Some of you may have heard why I fight. The truth is, I'm fighting my gods, my makers, too. First they enslaved me without my knowing it, just as you all have been, then they tried to kill me. I refused, and now I rise against them. In a very short time, you will all get the chance to tell those who wish to hold power over you that they have no right."
&nb
sp; Again, he looked at the giants.
"You will have the chance to tell them that you would rather die than let them hold that power. I cannot guarantee victory, but I can promise you this. I will die by your side rather than let them rule you."
He held his hand out and Thoreaux stepped up, giving him a blade.
"Where I come from, and what I was, we have a ritual that we do every time we go into battle." He retracted the armor on his right wrist, revealing the still-scabbing wound from his last battle. "I will do it now, and if you wish to partake, I invite you. You only need to repeat after me, and in the end, draw your own blood."
Alistair knelt, the blade in his left hand. His face was still scabbed with the cuts from his fight with the roc. He knew he looked hellish, like a warrior born in Hades. What was one more cut?
He said the words, his voice echoing to the mass of killers.
And he heard the words coming back to him, thousands performing the ritual that only an elite few had been gifted to know on Earth.
"See it and fear," his voice echoed down the hill. "See it and die."
Alistair drew his blood, then he smeared it across his cut-up face.
He looked up. Eager giant heads stared at him, blood dripping down their cheeks like monsters born from nightmares.
Caesar stepped up to his left. His shout echoed down the hill. "Ave, Prometheus!"
The valley filled with the shouts.
Ave.
Prometheus.
Chapter Twenty
The planet's star rose on the horizon as the opposing armies approached. The sounds of thousands of gigante footfalls echoed off massive buildings that stretched to the sky.
Alistair was gone, no longer needed. Prometheus had stepped forward, ready to do what was necessary.
He walked with Thoreaux on his right and Caesar on his left.
Pro stared forward, seeing the end of their travels and the tower he'd dreamed of. It looked the same as it had in his dream, only now the glass windows glittered from the birthing sun instead of being shattered. He didn't know how many would die here, but he knew the three of them would end up in that tower.
He knew that the chance of death for all three of them was very real.
Pro hadn't said a word to anyone about this. He just marched forward.
The quadcopters came for them first.
It was only later that Thoreaux would be able to piece together what he'd witnessed. While he was in the battle, he saw very little he understood outside of what came into his immediate purview. Everything that showed up there died. He supposed he'd been lucky no one he knew showed up in front of him because Thoreaux felt certain he would have cut them down as well.
Something took him over that he didn't fully understand, but he embraced it all the same.
For the first time in his life, Thoreaux felt free.
In other times, that mindset had been known as “bloodlust.” Thoreaux saw it as freedom.
Blood drenched him, and still he pushed forward. He knew where they were heading. Pro had told them all.
The tallest tower in the middle. That was their objective, and Thoreaux was leaving a trail of bodies behind as he made his way there.
Everything ceased to matter besides those two things—getting to the tower and killing everything on his way.
Prometheus no longer mattered. The AllMother and her entire Insurrection didn't matter. Even Faitrin didn't matter.
Killing those who opposed him had turned into a god, and Thoreaux worshipped at its feet.
Prometheus finally came to a halt.
For the past hour, he had felt like he'd been in perpetual motion. He'd fought relentlessly, at some points confident of making it to the tower, and other times thinking everything would crumble. Pro had kept an eye on Thoreaux, having to rescue him more than once in their push forward. He didn't think Thoreaux even noticed, not where he was in relation to his allies or that Prometheus had bailed him out.
He'd continually pushed too deep into enemy territory, surrounding himself with droids and gigantes who fought for the other side. They were about to overwhelm him each time when Prometheus showed up, giving him the support he needed.
Now Prometheus stood at the base of the tower. He turned and looked at the wake of destruction his army had left.
Fire littered the battlefield. He could see the wreckage of at least four quadcopters. The death those things had created was sickening, and it had taken entirely too long to bring them all down. However, they were finished, and Prometheus still breathed.
The battle was nearly over. There were small groups still skirmishing, but the gigantes who followed Prometheus were overwhelming the remaining forces.
Thoreau approached with his eyes on the tower. "Ave, Prometheus," he whispered as he arrived.
Caesar and Nero were coming now, their core group having survived this battle when many others lay dead or dying. The gigante had used their nanotech to save and heal as many as they could, but in the end, death came all the same.
What does that mean, Allie? That so many others died while those you need the most remain on their feet?
Prometheus didn't know, and he didn't have time to care now. The two gigantes approached as he turned to stare at the tower. This was something he'd done a lot in his previous life—assaults on tall buildings. It might be the thing he had perfected in his life, yet he knew what was about to happen.
He'd seen it.
The giant standing above Caesar, ready to deliver a killing blow. A man wearing a suit holding a weapon on Thoreaux. A quadcopter coming for all of them.
"Caesar, Thoreaux, remember my dream," he said from behind his faceplate as he lowered his head to look at the door.
"In case you want to walk away. I'm going up, but that doesn't mean any of you have to."
Thoreaux raised both eyebrows as he turned to look at the door. "Well, Pro, if your dreams tell the truth, I don't think we have a choice in the matter. If you've seen us up there, we're going to go up there, right?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I just wanted to remind you about what I've seen."
"Yeah, if I die up there, I'll blame my stupid decision to follow you on fate, thus absolving me of any responsibility for said decision." He grinned. "I'm pretty sure I can speak for the giant standing next to you. If you're going in, we're going in."
Caesar nodded. "Little man speaks for me."
Nero was on the far left, standing next to Caesar. "I will not go. Death is in that place for me, and there is no chance of stopping it. No one but you three should enter. Anyone else who tries will never make it to that top floor."
Pro nodded. "You’re right. I want you to make sure no one else enters the building. We'll see you when we get back down."
Nero was looking at the building as if it held some sort of magic. Perhaps for him, it did. Or maybe he was seeing something no one else could. He turned and stuck his arm out, the same as Alistair had done that first battle morning. "It has been an honor. I hope to see you again."
Prometheus stood and gripped the gigante's arm. "It's been an honor for me too. I'll see you when we get back." He meant both things. What Caesar had said in the beginning no longer held any weight for Alistair. They would not kill this gigante. He was their friend now, and Prometheus planned to bring everyone back.
He could see in Nero's eyes that the gigante wasn't sure any of them would live through this episode. The dream had said the same thing.
But people had been saying that to Prometheus since this started. Ares. The Commonwealth. Everyone else who'd gotten in his way.
The person upstairs who’d created this horror story of a planet would soon find out what the rest had.
Prometheus was a war machine. One who created his own rules for the games put before him.
He turned back to the building. There was nothing else to be said out here or in there. His Whip was still unfurled, and its communication would involve no words. Pro went forwar
d, his two lieutenants quickly following him. They reached the double door, which was made of opaque glass, and it opened for them as if welcoming them inside.
Prometheus had just destroyed an army, but maybe those in here knew something he didn't.
His group entered the welcome area, and the double doors slid closed behind him.
A single man stood on the other side of the welcome area. Prometheus' HUD zeroed in on him and showed that he was much, much older and held no weapons.
"Hello!" he called. "I have no weapons and mean none of you any harm! My voice hasn't been used in quite some time, so if you'll come a bit closer, I'd very much appreciate it!"
Pro and Thoreaux scanned the room at the same time. His HUD registered no weapons. The room seemed safe, but out of everything that could have been in here, this wasn't even imaginable. "We all need to be ready for anything. Whatever that man over there looks like, it's deception. We might end up dead in the next few minutes, no matter how cheery he sounds."
Thoreaux started forward. His armor was coated in older dried blood plus a newer splash. It rolled off him in fat drops, splashing on the floor and creating a trail as he made his way to the strange old man. They stopped a few feet from him. This wasn't the man from Pro's dream. He would be in the end room. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"I have been asleep for a long time," the old man said. "Longer than any of you might be capable of imagining, and let's just say my offspring isn't as capable as I would have liked. Otherwise, you two gentlemen and this gigante would not be standing here right now. My son, the poor child, actually believes you are a god come down from the universe to wreak havoc on this planet. I'm going to assume that isn't true, correct?"
Prometheus was listening to the man's words but also letting his senses give him everything else that was happening around him. He knew it mattered nothing what this man said. He was a threat, perhaps the greatest one Prometheus had ever faced. "You are correct. I'm flesh and blood."