The Chess Pieces

by Joshua Landeros

  Alex looked at the cyborg.

  “Let’s get down to business, then,” he said. “We all know the primary target of this weapon, so let’s put it to the test. Let’s try and hit our friend Unit 21 here.”

  Patrick exchanged glances with Jacob before looking at Will. The super soldier moved his hand toward himself in a “bring it” gesture. Pat was already doubtful, but Will’s devious smile was enough to convince him.

  “This is a great opportunity for the platoon to get some experience under their belt,” he said, lowering the weapon. “Who’s up for it?”

  Though at first disappointed, Will settled. The platoon seemed restless, but it wasn’t long before a soldier stepped up. It was none other than Saskia. The young woman had no fear in her eyes, though Bri was quite the opposite. She didn’t say anything in objection, but she didn’t have to. Noah could read it on her face.

  “Allow me,” Saskia offered.

  Noah stepped ahead of her. What the hell are you doing?! Her expression spelled pissed, but she went along with it.

  “As squad leader, I think it is my duty to volunteer, sir,” he announced.

  Saskia held her tongue, unable to argue with that. Alex shrugged his shoulders. Patrick threw the pulse rifle to Noah who used both arms to catch it. Yup, something like twenty-five kilos heavy. He adjusted easily enough after fixing his footing. Now he set his sights on the cyborg.

  In that scarred armor and worn down overcoat, the man was something alien to him.

  “Before we start, I’d like to ask you something,” Will said.

  “Lay it on me,” Noah replied.

  “Pardon me, but this platoon here looks fresh out of school. Am I wrong?”

  Noah chuckled before answering.

  “Yes and no, I guess, sir. This is a ragtag team put together by Declan. Some are fresh from the Emergency Task Force. Most of us, including myself, served in Armavir when it was worth the AEF’s attention. But no, I don’t believe any of us here have had the honor of tangoing with a super soldier before.”

  Will nodded and took a few steps back. Noah guessed there was about eight meters between the two of them now. With that much distance, he assumed his target would dodge either left or right before making any kind of move. Real question is how he can possibly counter. Unless he’s got a gun I can’t see…

  “So is this like a Mexican standoff or something? What are the rules here?” Noah asked.

  “Simple. Will tries to tag you before you tag him,” Alex answered.

  “Okay…”

  Noah locked on with his iron sights. Still his opponent did not budge. Here goes. He pressed down on the trigger. What happened next was for him hard to describe. Within three seconds of charging, Will had closed the gap between them, and the next thing Noah knew he felt a hand on his chest. With a seemingly gentle push, the man was hurled down into the dirt as if he were a flimsy twig. For a few seconds, he lay there stunned and unable to breathe. His body ached tremendously.

  “Noah!” he heard a voice yell. He could see Saskia, Kurt, and Bri staring down at him. At last he caught his breath. He tried to sit up only to feel more pain.

  “Shit,” he grunted, resting his head back in the dirt.

  Will stood there with the pulse rifle in his hands. He noticed it had grown considerably hot and white smoke was starting to seep from the weapon. Alex stepped over to inspect the gun, shaking his head. He then waited for the other platoon members to help the squad leader to his feet.

  “Anything broken?”

  “Negative,” Noah said as he winced.

  Alex’s voice became sterner than Jacob, Pat or Will had ever heard it.

  “Consider this a lesson in tactics. Yes, the pulse rifle will level the playing field for us. However, it does not make engaging cyborgs a simple “point-and-shoot” battle. They are several times faster and stronger than us and going head-on is suicide. Your objective for the next few days will be to coordinate attack patterns that keep you alive.”

  Noah straightened his posture, ignoring the pain and delivering a salute.

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  Alex grinned. “Dismissed!”

  The troops began to walk off as the old comrades remained. Patrick noticed yet another bird flying awfully close to them.

  “More target practice?”

  “No, Bubo Jr. was recording that exercise for Ominic and our newly arrived guests. We’re to meet with them now.”

  “Who’s this guest of honor?” Jacob inquired.

  “He wouldn’t say, but all of us are to attend,” Alex reinforced.

  “And I thought today was eventful enough as it is,” said the cyborg.

  ***

  General Ominic’s Residence

  Ominic walked the four of them down the illustrious hall. This building was his personal abode when staying at the base and usually entrance was only allowed for the big names. Even the UNR refugees had only seen this interior once before, back during their initial arrival. Up ahead of them were a pair of large wooden doors.

  “These guys some of Halsey’s old friends or something?” Jacob asked.

  “Not quite. Actually it’s more or less one of his.”

  Jacob was surprised to see Ominic looking at Will. The cyborg didn’t seem especially interested by the remark. He even allowed Ominic to be the first to open those heavy, intricately carved, doors.

  Inside they were treated to the sight of the dining hall. This room was mostly empty with a long table covered in fine silk cloth at its center. Enormous windows with scarlet curtains were on the opposite side, allowing a view of the entirety of Fort Hosbon. Though the gorgeous table could seat over thirty, today only seven sat in its chairs. They all stood upon the arrival of Will and the others.

  All appeared to be Middle Eastern in descent. Most of them were men between their twenties and forties. Standing close to the oldest was a woman dressed in a hijab. This elder had a long beard and a cane to support him. He was missing his left arm and had burns close to his left eye. None of those impairments kept him from stepping close to Will.

  “It really is you,” he whispered.

  “Pardon?” Will questioned.

  “Forgive me,” he said. Everyone in the room could see him shaking.

  “I had never believed in ghosts until I saw you in the news. I am Khalid Jinnah. We met only once before, over twenty years ago in Jerusalem. I was the one who spared your life.”

  Khalid spoke briefly in Arabic. Will’s CPU configured it and translated for him.

  “May you go in peace,” Will said quietly.

  The cyborg felt dizzy. It was coming back to him. Under the wrinkles and scars, this man was a visage from the time of Will’s greatest vulnerability. The angel of death who did not carry out his duty. The day Bryan had died and Will and Valerie took their first steps in becoming Venloran’s knights.

  “Fate truly is miraculous,” Khalid said in tears.

  “You knew this guy before…before you were a cyborg?” Patrick said in stupor.

  “It’s like he said, when he had his gun on me, ready to end it all, he chose to flee.”

  Will’s tone was full of some sort of criticism. The woman standing next to Khalid looked offended, but he wasn’t hurt in the least.

  “Something that day told me not to end your life. By ’45, as the Chancellor’s SSF cut down legions of men and burned cities, I had lost the will to fight. By ’46, the war was over and we were at Venloran’s feet. For decades, Iran was rebuilt in the UNR’s likeness. Many people forgot why we fought back then. Even I had. It wasn’t until your revolt that I remembered. Now, it’s begun.”

  “The jihad was never truly over. It merely slept.”

  “I understand now why God gave me that command. You will lead us into battle. You, William, will someday bring an end to all of this.”

  “Not until a whole lot is done,” Will responded.

  “Which is why I’ve begun rallying a battalion to fight. With
the AEF Secretary General’s help we will be able to finance it all. However, I did not want to overlook perhaps the most important aspect of this conflict: defeating the UNR on its own turf. For that reason, I have bestowed upon you a squad of some of my best, including my daughter Nusaybah.”

  The woman saluted the soldiers before her.

  “At your service.”

  “Thank you. We won’t let you down.”

  “Nor us you,” she said. “I was watching your presentation. I would love to try out that new tech of yours.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to put off any more field tests just for a few days. I still need to work on the cooling mechanism; otherwise it’s liable to blow up in your face.”

  Ominic was more distraught than anyone. Clearly, he was looking for a way to make up for the embarrassment.

  “Sergeant Neeson, why don’t you show our guests around the facility. Mr. Jinnah will be heading back by tonight, so please don’t miss a thing.”

  “I can fit in tour guide to my day, sure,” Jacob whined.

  “Not so much enthusiasm, Sergeant,” the woman teased. He saw her smile and kidded back.

  “Let’s just hope I don’t get us lost.”

  Before Khalid left, he placed his remaining hand on Will’s shoulder. The sensation once more sent Will back in time. I want you to do something for me. He tried his God’s honest best to focus as the man spoke to him. Now was not the time to drift off.

  “God has given us a second chance to right our wrongs. We can finally take back The Hollow Lands. It was a pleasure, William.”

  “For me as well, sir.”

  Chapter 15 - Eyes of the World

  October 15, 2065 - Conference Chamber, UNR Headquarters

  The five men sat at the very first row. All were the elite of the UNR Cabinet, the esteemed founding fathers of the UNR party itself. As vital as these men were to heading the Chancellor’s armies and economy, these particular ones had not been in the same room for some time. Redford was in the center of them, dressed sharply.

  “This is what it takes for us to have a proper reunion,” he remarked. “Last year we were all due at Kearney’s.”

  “Yes, even then, when things were slow moving, there was work to be done,” said Admiral Montalbán, fingers laced together as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. “At least that’s what we told ourselves. We all should have made time.”

  Montalbán was a lean man with a face sparse of hair other than his pencil mustache. He was rarely known to express concerns beyond his duties. Hearing him now having second thoughts about the balance of leisure in life was almost frightening.

  “Too much on our plates for that kind of sentiment,” cut in Lawson, chief of staff of the UNR Air Force. He came from the city of Covington, Louisiana and to this day preferred the open woodland to the metropolitan areas. He loved his friends and family, but it didn’t stop him from spending days by his lonesome fishing every year.

  “And there it is again, the classic excuse,” Redford said with a shake of his head.

  “Redford is right,” General Berenger said. “The biggest event in UNR history is almost here. We should be celebrating. McGinley has even offered to host a dinner at his home tomorrow night.”

  Berenger was older than all of them, and he appeared frail in his uniform. His hands were large, his fingers skinny. He spoke with an unyielding authority. He had trained Venloran in his orator skills way back in the early days of the campaign. Ever since the title of Chancellor had been bestowed on him, Carl relied more on Kearney but General Berenger was still a beacon of well-earned respect.

  McGinley sat close to the man, his unofficial shadow. as it were. In the presence of these much older men he may as well have been a baby. That didn’t stop him from feeling like one of them.

  “All I ask is that you smoke outside, Lawson,” he said warmly.

  “Perhaps. In return, you’ve got to get Ana to not burn the steaks this time.”

  The joke got laughs from everybody. Despite the lowered spirits of late, this humor was welcomed by all. Even McGinley was cracking up. At the same time, he jotted down a mental note to deliver to Ana later tonight.

  The doors behind them opened, and the five men all stood. Where there was once laughter there was now silence.

  “Honorable Chancellor Venloran,” they called out, saluting. By his side was Kearney, but walking behind them was not Unit 3-05.

  This unfamiliar figure was the tallest being in the room, just short of eight feet. Incredibly wide shoulders and long legs added to the new arrival’s enormity. Its body appeared to be completely metallic and closely resembled the armor of some medieval knight. Each plate had a glorious sheen to it, and each footstep landed with a thud. For such a hulking figure the machine moved gracefully and it was slim in appearance below the chest.

  Though mostly silver with the exceptions of the joint areas, a rigid black gorget added to this titan’s fantasy-like appearance. That face, thought Redford, my God, that damned face.

  Atop this monstrosity was the face of no man. It was more akin to a mask, though the way it was shaped it still had vaguely skeletal features. There was no “lower jaw” to speak of, but there were two eye holes. The metal had been molded to give the brows a constant look of rage. Even so, there were human eyes within those pits of darkness. Eyes that bore into each of the UNR Cabinet members without mercy.

  “Gentlemen, glad you could all make it,” Venloran greeted. Before getting to the stage, the trio stopped at the very front row of the seating area, now face to face with the rest of the men. There was a lurking moment of dead quiet before the robotic knight took a few steps closer to them. It took these hardened men every fiber of their resolve not to flinch in its presence. Lawson saw those chartreuse eyes analyzing them again.

  “It’s been a long time,” said a chill voice from the mouthless face. “Great to see you all.”

  Its right hand, a luxurious black plating covering the wires, was lifted for a salute. The ends of the fingers were pointed and sharp, and McGinley was foolish enough to sweat. The others stood firm and now saluted in return. They all recognized that voice even though its tone had somewhat changed.

  “Welcome back, General Kane,” Montalbán said graciously.

  The giant only nodded as Venloran and Kearny now stood at the front of the stage. They were surprised to see him not take to the podium itself.

  “You may all be seated,” the Chancellor said. They all did so, Kane standing next to them.

  “Before we begin, is there anything that needs to be addressed?”

  General Berenger looked at Venloran, who instantly understood.

  “Yes, sir?”

  The general was one of the few men in the UNR who had the designation of sir with Carl Venloran. Perhaps the only one, and it wasn’t merely his old age. Venloran had led the ascension of the UNR Party, but Berenger had built the party itself from scratch.

  “Is it really proper to conduct this meeting with one of our members absent?”

  The other six men in the room and the ominous giant all looked at Venloran for an answer.

  “I will meet with the Head Director of the PSID myself when he is available.”

  “And he’s not available for high priority security meetings?” Berenger pried.

  “Sir, he’s seeing to this current investigation himself. He’s leaving no stone unturned and, knowing his record, Howarth is bound to succeed.”

  Everyone else was nodding except for the old officer.

  “A compelling argument, but you and I can talk on it later, Carl.”

  This time it was Venloran who nodded without a word.

  “Proceed, Chancellor.”

  “Right, our collaboration with Koichi has brought Weapon Program III to a full one hundred thousand test subjects. And double that within the next three months.”

  McGinley raised a hand slowly.

  “Yes, Head of the S.S.C.-Unit Control?”

&nb
sp; “Sir, I was reading through the specifications on WP-III and I was stuck in a bit of a quandary.”

  “That being?”

  “From what I gather, the Light Models have minimal neoartium plating and only second generation CPU reflex augmentation. Why is it that we are mass producing them?”

  “Because they are cheaper, McGinley,” Redford replied, “and while not surpassing WP-II they are still vastly stronger and faster than average soldiers.”

  “As for the distribution plan, I will report that it is now finalized. I’ve had Redford look it over a hundred times. As of now we will be selling neoartium exclusively to the countries who have signed our pact.”

  “The surgeries are relatively cheap and simple, compared to the original S.S.C. project, and millions of soldiers are going to line up begging for what they think is a step closer to immortality,” said Montalbán. ”By the end of January, the WP-III floods the market along with neoartium. Even as our allies, you’re not worried that they will inevitably tinker and develop S.S.C.s of their own? Something that might match WP-II?”

  “It’s called a concession, Montalbán,” Venloran reminded. “Kearney and I knew these countries would only sign this pact with a juicy incentive. Besides, our R&D will not be slowing down.”

  “We will strain our own neoartium reserves,” added Lawson, “but I guess the revenue and control of the market is hard to argue with.”

  Venloran’s gaze drifted over to McGinley.

  “McGinley, you’re the protégé of our dear General Berenger. Surely you have something to say.”

  McGinley felt all eyes on him. In a clear rush, he was moved to answer.

  “Well, honorable sir, WP-III is cheaper, more accessible, and faster to make than the prior program. All true. Isn’t it all, however, a twisting of UNR conduct? The 144,000 were maintained to be the best of the best and the backbone of the reputation of our country. Our empire. I feel this latest move might sully our stance in the world.”

  “Ah, yes, ‘our stance in the world.’ We’re supposed to be on some upper level of existence that is unattainable to the rest of the world,” Venloran said with an air of mockery. “Allow me to put things in perspective. In April, we had three incidents, two of which were public. After that, we pretended it was over and then we lost Johnson, a member of this very Cabinet.”