Raddocks Horizon (Godyssey Legacy Book 1)

by Duran Cross

“I kill with purpose, not missiles.”

  Rennin turns to face him from the pilot seat. “You actually think of this as back-burning a bushfire, don’t you?”

  Caufmann inclines his head. “An appropriate metaphor.”

  “Just for the record,” says Rennin turning back to gaze over the city, “I think you’re a monster.”

  “Will you find comfort in that when you’re back on my operating table?”

  Rennin tries to suppress a shiver. “I was joking.”

  “On my operating table you’re my patient, not my experiment,” he says, inwardly weighing up how true it is. The mild experimental surgery was only to help him, anyway.

  ◆◆◆

  In Whitechapel District the fortified area is well and truly just that. A huge perimeter fence has been constructed out of steel and concrete pylons, punctuated every fifty metres by a turret on the top of a small tower manned by two gunners. The area it protects contains several skyscrapers, where the immunized people are protected with a massive percentage of the remaining Horizon Military.

  On ground level, a mobile construct sits occupied by Commander Jorge Croft, the man assigned with responsibility for the Raddocks Horizon crisis. He has a medium build and stands at 5’10” but his entire stance and bearing proclaims leadership. His shimmering black eyes are wide and almost impossible to look away from once he’s locked his gaze with yours. He’s pacing back and forth in front of a screen playing footage on repeat of the lab after Isfeohrad’s escape and detonation of the NAPA bomb. He shakes his head furiously.

  “That bastard knew this progenitor-class was loose, he didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

  The only other person in the command post is First Officer Grace Hannon, who attempts to hide her discomfort with Croft at the best of times. “Can I speak freely here, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  “Doctor Caufmann developed the vaccine and the antigen, I’m not sure charging him with treason will hold up. It’s commonly known already that without his android, the stadium would have fallen.”

  “Have you seen the Suvaco units? Their resemblance to Del is too close to dismiss. The armour plating around the chest and shoulders is grown, not implanted, and they are almost identical at first glance.”

  “It has been confirmed that Del killed a Suvaco unit barely fifteen minutes ago. Rumours have spread that the progenitor-class was crippled by it moments before the lab exploded,” says Hannon.

  “All of this is connected, like a spider’s web, and I don’t trust the doctor or his android. There are too many androids in town and they’re all as bad as each other, no matter which side they’re on.”

  Hannon takes a slow steadying breath. “What will Caufmann do if we kill Del and he escapes?”

  Croft ponders that for a moment. “Can he do any worse than what he’s already done here?”

  “I still don’t think he would have spent so much time working up a treatment if he released it in the first place.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first doctor to do such a thing. Godyssey can expect a huge increase in public funding if Caufmann comes out of this like the proverbial knight in shining armour,” says Croft.

  “This is a Godyssey mega-city, he could have chosen anywhere to release it.”

  “A Godyssey city contaminated and overrun by its own inhabitants hits pretty fucking close to home, wouldn’t you say?” says Croft, wide-eyed.

  “Let’s call in the Alpha HolinMechs.”

  “More androids is the last thing we want here.”

  “Yes, sir…” she says not sounding convinced at all. “Why do you keep watching the footage of the lab blowing up?”

  “I’ve watched it a hundred times and since then everything has gone straight to hell. The lab explodes and the an infection turns into a warzone. That is not a coincidence.”

  “What if Dead Star doesn’t come to Whitechapel after pulling out Verge’s unit?”

  “Desolator 1 is in range.”

  She nods and returns to her monitor where an incoming transmission registers. “Sir, we have a call coming in from an unknown origin,” she frowns.

  “Put it on the screen.”

  An image flickers into view of a pale face surrounded by a flow of long, jet-black hair that shimmers silver with every movement. The eyes are silver grey and almost reflective with lips tinted purple as if stained by some kind of soup. It’s an unsettling appearance. “Commander Croft,” its voice grinds out, sounding like glass over gravel.

  Croft isn’t a fool, he knows what he’s talking to. “Progenitor-class android, serial number double-oh zero one. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a program that will aid in the disablement of Caufmann’s forerunner,” it says.

  The commander feels his spine tingle. “You can hear us.”

  “I hear everything and what I hear, what I see, the ones behind my mind can see.”

  Croft swallows and ignores the frightened glance of Hannon. “You are going to give me a program, you said?”

  “I already have. Look in your private file. It will take care of the blind android.”

  “You mean Del.”

  “That name is just a name. It is a forerunner, merely the first of a legion. You will make an example of it, and its maker.”

  “Who do you think you are to order me to do anything?”

  “Since you are isolated and quarantined you have no contact with your superiors, who would certainly not want to assume responsibility of how you have handled this incident, and I am a Godyssey construct. Therefore, for the purpose of this conversation, I am Godyssey.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to get the forerunner in range of that program’s signal, and to execute William Caufmann.”

  “He’s en route here in a gunship and Del will be taken out in the field.”

  The mockery of human likeness on the screen smiles lightly. “It will not be. I have already done most of the work for you, causing the city wide black out, and destroying the laboratory. Caufmann is exposed.”

  “Where did you get this program, and how do you know it will work on Del?”

  “I was logistics and tactics for a military division you will never know of. I have access, or can gain access, to any information ever so much as written down if given enough time. I disabled an entire city and military guidance system; a small program such as that was a simple stratagem. If you do not do as I say I will show you just how much more I will do. I am a machine. I think in Ones and Zeroes. You do as I say and that will read in my mind as One. On. Active. Positive. Done. If you refuse I will read it as Zero. Off. Dead. Negative. Undone. If I arrive at result One, so do your guidance systems. If I arrive at result Zero, so will you, am I understood?”

  Croft frowns and thinks for a moment. “We could take back the city with guidance systems up and running…”

  “If you hurry,” says the prototype’s harshly inhuman voice, ending the transmission.

  Hannon checks the signal but the source has completely disappeared. She opens up Croft’s file. “The progenitor has uploaded a file into our systems.”

  Croft wipes a disturbing amount of sweat from his brow. “Does it have a filename or just a bunch of numbers?”

  She has a very bad feeling when she reads the name. “It’s called Harvest, sir.”

  ◆◆◆

  Sindaris Tessol enters the reservoir where thousands of contaminants are packed in like sardines. Despite the contaminant masses almost swarming over each other, Sindaris’ attention is strongly drawn to the one vacant area over the far side. A mist of light shrouds it in a perfect cylinder, reaching far above the crowd. Sindaris knows it must be an image projected into his perception. Attempting to blink it away only allows his eyes to see the mist evaporate for the smallest instant before flashing back into existence. He can feel a prickling sensation all over his head but puts that with the rest of his thoughts, as far away as possible.

  The c
ontaminants’ combined feeling of hunger is pressing on his mind so very heavily now. Though there are no lights in the reservoir, it begins to inexplicably become brighter. Sindaris finds himself squinting as the very air seems to glow before him, yet there are still no exact points of real light. A feeling of silence, of waiting, starts to spread over the crowd. The sensation is so intense that Sindaris almost feels his very consciousness slip away from him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to steady himself, trying to ignore the feeling of his bones pressing against his skin from within.

  When he opens his eyes again, the reservoir is darkening again and the spiralling mist cylinder is settling into a humanoid profile. Sindaris joins the crowd and starts to weave through them, moving towards the front, carefully keeping any thoughts of the gun in his sleeve at bay. The minds of the others are all blank now, even the hunger is suppressed.

  Sindaris keeps his head down, gradually closing the distance to the glowing mist, trying his best not to look at it. The prickling feeling across the top of his head feels as if his hair is moving about on its own. He keeps moving through the contaminants, shoving some aside if he has to, but avoiding contact as best as he can. Eventually the mass of locals stop moving altogether so Sindaris does as well. The mist spiral is close enough to spit at. He waits.

  Slowly, as the gaseous shape continues to shrink, the figure becomes increasingly corporeal. Sindaris tries not to focus on it too closely, but his hands are shaking no matter how slow and steady he makes each breath.

  A wave of euphoria passes over the entire reservoir gathering that has such a force that Sindaris is temporarily blinded. He has to fight to stop himself blacking out and the only thing he can think of doing is letting his face hang limp since it’s what he imagines the others are doing.

  Their minds begin to quieten again and as they do, the prickling sensation returns to Sindaris’ ears. He resists the urge to shake his head to clear his eyes.

  The mist spiral has dissipated completely leaving an entirely white human shaped figure that looks as if it is comprised solely of light itself. The figure soon begins to dim and when Sindaris’ vision clears up he finds himself looking at the face of the controlling entity.

  His wife.

  Sindaris experiences shock on such a scale that he doesn’t react. Everything in him goes quiet, he can’t feel his body or even the soft warm buzz of the infection coursing through his being. His wife looks just as she did on their wedding day. Sindaris’ numb shock dissolves the mental walls that defend him, no longer blocking the thousands of infected minds sharing the ecstasy of purpose.

  Before Sindaris even feels anything is wrong, he’s already lost half his identity to the invading share-mind. A barely audible whimper escapes his mouth as he makes a fruitless attempt to grip the fraying strings of his mind, grasping at anything that will keep his identity from vanishing like a single drop of water into a thundering river.

  It happens too fast, there is simply nothing left to keep him fighting. Sindaris is only a primeval version of himself looking into the eyes of his wife. He feels himself beginning to smile. The euphoria carries such weight that within a second he doesn’t even want to do anything else but stand there. His binary pupils dilate. He now doesn’t even remember his name.

  After another moment, he doesn’t remember who he’s looking at but she makes him happy. He can feel the other minds’ eyes slithering around in his head bringing him in, accepting him. Making him part of something special.

  He is home.

  ◆◆◆

  Unaware of the assembly of infected right below the surface at his position, Rennin Farrow banks Dead Star in a ring around a brutal ground fight. He’s made three passes, but still cannot see a viable landing site. Assisting Corporal Verge’s remnant seems increasingly unlikely since he is sure that as soon as he sets down the ship will be swarmed upon.

  Verge’s unit has abandoned their initial position at a four-way intersection, retreating into one of the nearby buildings. Rennin can see flashes from gunfire from the windows. One soldier peers out and up, seeing Dead Star. He points up. Since nothing is coming through on the radio, Rennin figures that means they’re heading to the roof.

  The streets are teeming with contaminants, moving in a vile torrent, invading the building in any way possible. Upon reaching the rooftop there are five of Verge’s unit remaining. One of them is limping from what appears to be a grievous leg wound.

  Carmine opens fire from Dead Star’s side cannon to stem the tide of contaminants on the street. Rennin turns to Del. “Get your Sunbreaker out and give them a hand, I’m taking us in.”

  Sabre draws his attention away from the fight. “We have to do this quickly.”

  A soldier runs to the edge of the building holding a rocket launcher. An RPG is unloaded into the street, killing a cluster of the crazed locals. The soldier then drops the empty rocket launcher and the group takes up a position training their rifles on the door, awaiting the first rush of contaminants.

  “Only one of this bucket’s cannons will be able to face the fight as I come in. Carmine will have to keep sustained fire on the ground,” says Rennin.

  Caufmann looks at Mia. “You and Del will assist Carmine with sniper fire.”

  “Rennin, keep the gunship’s left side facing the main attack. Drej, once we’re low enough, we’ll jump out and protect the survivors,” Antares says.

  Without warning, the access to the roof explodes with contaminants like ants escaping a flooded hive. The survivors of Verge’s contingent are taken completely by surprise by the sheer numbers of raging infected. Two more of Verge’s team are killed within seconds.

  Rennin drops Dead Star down and their rescue begins. The first shot comes from Del’s Sunbreaker and a contaminant is blown clean in half as the thunderclap rings inside the gunship.

  Carmine fires a volley of rounds across the charging horde, causing some to stumble and others to scatter. Mia fires at the ones leading the charge trying to make them fall to slow the growing mass behind.

  Rennin lowers the gunship further and the two androids leap out with swords in hand. Drej hits the ground first, cracking the stone surface whereas Antares drops and rolls more gracefully, then the two are up and running side by side.

  Drej’s sword seems to glow silver as he begins to exert himself. Antares’ blade’s etchings light up green, as do the veins on her bare arms. The two of them charge at a crowd of attackers that now number in the dozens. The first contaminant is decapitated by Drej’s bone-blade and their rear guard struggle is underway.

  Rennin sets Dead Star as close as he can to Verge’s last stand. Carmine tries to aid the androids as much as he can from his vantage point.

  Del snap fires two shots almost as fast as the light beams themselves and both shots result in definite kills. Mia is crippling every target she can, aiming for every knee in sight.

  The three remaining ground survivors are now only two, Corporal Verge and one gunner. Rennin doesn’t need to make any movement to signal them, they abandon their positions and run towards the gunship.

  Antares and Drej get overrun by a sea of them; they could make it to the roof access to bottleneck them in time. The gunner is run down by a group of contaminants. Verge shoots the slashing, biting locals off the overwhelmed comrade. The corporal gets under the arm of the wounded soldier and hauls him towards Dead Star.

  Rennin patches his headset through to the speaker on the outside of the gunship, “Let’s move it, Arca!”

  Drej and Antares are swamped by contaminants now, fighting back to back. A gap opens up in their defence and a contaminant thrusts its forearm spike towards Drej’s side but a Sunbreaker round blares through its torso, taking its top section apart.

  The two androids make a break for Dead Star. Antares is stabbed in the thigh by a diving contaminant, her sub zero blood freezing the creature’s limb. With a fierce downward hit, she breaks its frozen arm straight off. The thing screeches in pain and
a bullet shot into its mouth kills it instantly. Antares rips the curious spike from her leg and doesn’t even flinch.

  Drej turns to the onrush of contaminants and outstretches his hands. Focussing his raw core power, a blast of red energy streams outwards, incinerating a pack of them on the spot. He then boards Dead Star. Verge has slung in and secured the badly bleeding gunner.

  The fully loaded Dead Star lifts off the ground, away from the massing swarms of screaming contaminants.

  Antares removes her armour plate and rips her pant leg open, revealing her impaled limb. It hisses cold steam, fogging up the cabin and forcing the humans to cover their mouths to avoid inhaling the dangerous vapour. She jabs herself with a small syringe and the steaming wound sparks before sealing over.

  Verge’s gunner bleeds out while Mia is desperately trying to tend his horrific lacerations. The corporal’s shoulders sag.

  “Fifty men,” the corporal bursts out, ripping off the encumbering helmet to reveal long blonde hair plaited to her scalp. She locks her icy grey eyes on Sabre when she sees his lieutenant stripes. “We called for reinforcements yesterday! Where the fuck was our support? One platoon holding the Blackhaven Red Zone?”

  “There aren’t any,” says Sabre simply.

  Verge points to Antares hissing leg. “You have a CryoZaiyon and my company didn’t get so much as one man?”

  “In this gunship are the remains of two crews and the Raston taskforce. Believe me when I say that there are no reinforcements,” he says slowly to let it sink in. “Now, where is the rest of your platoon? Where’s Major Sikes?”

  “Where the fuck do you think?”

  “Corporal!” Sabre says chidingly.

  Rennin isn’t sure why he’s surprised to see that Corporal Verge is female but he’s surprised all the same. Though he likes her attitude. Verge salutes Sabre exhaustedly. “Corporal Celina Verge locked and loaded, lieutenant,” she says eyeing Antares.

  Sabre inclines his head but doesn’t salute. “I won’t mince words, corporal, this is a desertion; not a retreat.”

  That gets her attention. “Sir?”