The sullen fire surrounding Venloran was impossible to ignore. It drew all of them in.
“And, of course, yet another recently. Please enlighten me, how is the search for the missing cyborg going?”
McGinley couldn’t exhale for a second.
“We’re looking everywhere, all along the coastline, but so far there are no signs of 37.”
“That makes a total of four units we’ve lost in the past few months. That’s a record, you all know that. Hundreds of millions lost. I must admit for a time we were so caught up in our victory we weren’t ready for defeat. Damage control is essential, but we cannot forget the eyes of the world are watching! They claim neutrality or brand us, but it’s only a matter of time before another defeat sends the wrong message. The message to rise against us. Now, I don’t care if this opposition comes in the form of more trade embargoes or full-scale war, we must prevent it! This, my friends, is a turning point. Prime Minister Charles has led the world in extending a hand to us. For decades, we’ve been the figure of controversy. This is our chance to finally put an end to all that! I will see this through because the people of our nation deserve it. We will maintain the principles that built us up, but we will not remain chained to the past!”
The end of Venloran’s decree was met with enthusiastic clapping. It was Berenger, the smile of a father watching a son on the stage, on his face.
“I am in agreement,” he said.
“As am I,” said Montalbán.
“Aye,” said Lawson.
“Aye,” said McGinley.
“Aye,” said Kearney.
“Aye,” said Kane.
“Aye,” said Redford.
Venloran once again looked at McGinley. To the young man’s relief, his Chancellor now smiled.
“As for that dinner party you were mentioning, Janet and I will bring the dessert. Sound like a plan?”
“Yes, sir, absolutely!”
Kearney watched them joke around as a brief intermission. Hell, he even laughed with them. When this meeting was all said and done, however, he had business of his own to attend to.
Chapter 16 - Weak Links
June 17, 2050
“The long-sought-after Mexico City is finally on the verge of freedom. It was only a year ago today, Prime Minister Esteban and his family were brutally murdered by so-called nationalists. He had just returned home from negotiating terms with Chancellor Venloran prior to the tragedy. It has taken many lives, but the dream of unity is finally seeing the light of day. We now go live to our combat correspondent, Matt Modine.”
For all the viewers at home, the camera was switched to a thin man wearing a large flak vest and bits of plating on his body. It was clear the body armor was heavy and weighed him down like boulders, the amount of sweat on his face painting a clear picture. It was evening with night fast approaching, but still it was incredibly warm. As he stood on the filthy sidewalk, the smell of burning rubble choking him only minutes prior, he hoped every citizen was damn well watching.
“Military action here is fast-moving, Justine,” he reported, before putting an arm out to present the uniformed man standing beside him. “Here with me is Major Johnson. Can you give us any information, sir?”
“As of now all our efforts are reaping wondrous results. The incredible amount of local men and women joining the fight alongside the UNR forces has expedited the process greatly.”
Far down Republica de Guatemala Street, a group of six tanks advanced toward the rear of the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption of Mary. Around it, on all sides, sand-bag walls and barbed wire had been placed, but these posts were abandoned. The Baroque-style structure appeared as beautiful as ever in a city of silence. Atop one of the bell towers a sniper rifle lay without a partner.
The large tanks were less than a hundred meters away when an explosion toppled the one in the lead. The camera man and Modine immediately focused on the scene of the disturbance. All the camera caught was the remaining five tanks at a standstill with a new column of fire in front of them. It was as if time was frozen for all of a few seconds.
Major Johnson was waiting for something. Modine felt a chill go up his spine as he heard a metallic creak. However, it was only a person emerging from the top of one of the tanks, who quickly leaped off and stood behind the leviathan machine. He made no move to join the reporter and friends, and the major without a word joined him at the rear of the tank. At their distance their words were impossible to hear.
“Mind telling me what the fuck was that?” Kane yelled.
“Apparently, a welcome mat we missed,” Johnson replied. “The men all right?”
“Reported a few minor injuries. I’m instructing them to sit tight.”
“Venloran’s not gonna like this for press coverage.”
“Well, shit, damn UAV hasn’t spotted any movement for days.”
“How do you wanna play it?”
I’m gonna send in the New Rough Riders. Keep your camera steady.”
Johnson only nodded, walking back toward the reporter. The duo was cowering in an alley, kneeling as if death was already upon them.
“You can relax now,” he assured.
“Was that Commander Kane?” Modine asked as he now stood.
“Yes, the New Rough Riders are being sent in as we speak.”
Kane looked down at his watch, the precious seconds ticking.
“You reading me boys and girls?” he said into his intercom.
Atop a building not too far away from the cathedral stood five soldiers, but these ones wore a much different armor and each one carried a sword. They could see the fire from here and had remained put regardless.
“Unit 3-05, checking in.”
“Unit 9-43, checking in.”
“Unit 7-75, checking in.”
“Unit 6-20, checking in.”
“Unit 23, checking in.”
“You’re loud and clear, Commander,” 3-05 reported, “go ahead.”
“I’m pretty sure you saw the showdown here. Circle the area surrounding the plaza and engage any hostiles.”
“I’m assuming since it wasn’t set off earlier when we had our search team in here that these bombs are wired to go off by remote control. Someone in there’s got a visual on you guys. Request permission to storm the cathedral, sir,” 3-05 said.
“Permission granted. Be advised Venloran wants property damage down to a minimum.”
“Understood, sir, over and out.”
Unit 3-05 turned around to face his super soldier comrades. Even though he was not an official officer of any kind and held no rank above them, they still awaited his orders to proceed. Even Ptolemy, who stood a whole head taller than him, was silent.
“Time is up for those bastards,” he said matter-of-factly. “Today we wrap this up.”
Unit 6-20, Cullen Goss, bowed his head slightly and stepped forth. He had a similar skin tone to Aliss’ and the months here mostly sticking to the shadows had done little to change that. He even had similar blond hair, but his was slightly darker and was long for a soldier’s, to his neck. Like his fellow cyborg, though, he kept it slicked back, clearly displaying his widow’s peak.
“Allow me to infiltrate the church. It was I who had guard duty closest to this sector.”
“Prior we did not have clearance to touch the relic. Now we do, but with extreme caution. As such, I myself will take lead.”
Unit 6-20 nodded in agreement, lifting his head and stepping back again. Aliss looked over at Ptolemy.
“9-43, you will take the west façade.”
“Yes, sir!”
“6-20, you shall take the south.”
Cullen, like Ptolemy, barked his consent, eager to go. Taraja awaited her orders.
“You 7-75 will take the east.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
The newest recruit, Valerie, stood there with a dignified patience like Aliss had rarely seen. I suppose testing her now couldn’t hurt.
“2
3 and I will take the northern façade. All in all, it should take us no less than fifteen.”
They all nodded and stepped toward the edge of the roof. Ptolemy and Taraja leaped off into battle, but just as Cullen was ready to follow suit he felt a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, his leader had a downcast look upon his face.
“I’m sorry, but there’s a camera crew down there. This has to be as neat as possible.”
“But that’s…that’s not my thing. Why not just rip my heart out while you’re at it, sir?”
“You’ll just have to save it for next time, all right, Cullen?”
“Understood, sir. There will be no kabobs today.”
“I’m as disappointed as you, soldier. You ready, 23?”
Valerie smiled.
“I’ve been waiting for some sort of challenge. I guess I’ll have to make do with this.”
“Charming humility,” Aliss laughed. “Now let’s move out.”
The trio leaped off the building in unison and the impact they made upon landing thirty feet below cracked the asphalt. With that, they bolted into a sprint, splitting apart but heading toward the same target. Kane, meanwhile, lit a cigarette, as suddenly the sound of gunfire roared to life. No bullets struck anywhere near them because he knew the poor bastards were busy trying to get a bead on the wolves circling the kill zone. There were even a few more detonations, but these were much closer to the church itself. With each miss, the noose was tightening. The commander leaned against the tank as smoke crept out of his nostrils.
***
Within seven minutes, Unit 3-05 was inside the building. He ran into little opposition once inside, startlingly. The death-like quiet of the place, accompanied by its spaciousness, had no effect on him. It only made him ponder. His attentive hearing, though, caught onto something. He headed in that direction. I should have known.
Aliss found himself in an enormous chamber. At the other end in front of the rows of benches was the famed Altar of Forgiveness. Its enormity was matched only by its golden sheen. To its left and right were impressive stone pillars and, of course, Christ himself was hung below one of them. However, none of the beauty intrigued the super soldier.
As he stepped down the aisle, heading closer to the altar, he could see wires running along the martyr’s body and up the pillars. Scaffolding not too far away told him all he needed to know: that and the left-behind chisels and chunks of gray stone all over the floor.
At the very front of the altar, knelt in prayer, was but one man. His uniform told Aliss he was no vagrant but indeed a soldier.
“No hay necesidad de orar. Pronto estarás con Dios,” Aliss called out.
The soldier stood now, facing the cyborg staring at him. The smell and the hair consuming the majority of his face told Aliss the man had been here a long time.
“I suppose so,” the man said before studying 3-05’s face, “and it is fitting that you are here.”
“Have we met before?”
“Not personally, of course, or I’d already be dead. I saw you from afar at the Battle of Monterrey.”
“Indeed,” 3-05 appeared calm, but in reality he was struggling to cling to it. The only reason he hadn’t already slaughtered the man was because of the detonator he held in his right hand. Fairly small and cylinder-shaped, he kept his hand clasped to it tightly, his thumb being the only digit not touching it.
“You and your kind have butchered thousands. It was on that day I saw that the men Venloran commands are not really men at all.”
“You seem fairly level-headed, so tell me why you chose this course of action?”
“My father was a priest here, as was his father before him. On his deathbed, he made me promise to never let this holy place fall into the hands of men like you.”
“You perceive us as Satan’s soldiers, is that it?”
His rage seemed to build, a flicker of spite in his eyes. Somehow he still waited, though his thumb fidgeted for a moment.
“You may decide what you are for yourself. Truth be told, I’m not at all concerned if this building collapsing kills you. I’m only maintaining its purity.”
It was now that Aliss smiled.
“But it was never pure. This was where the Spanish took Tenochtitlan. This very building was built atop the Templo Mayor which had been a holy place for both Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc. That day a whole nation fell and everything they ever built was reduced to rubble or nostalgia.”
The man’s look of valor seemed to wane. He kept his grip on the detonator but the cyborg was already analyzing every gesture, every drop of sweat. His adrenaline was at its maximum level.
“This cathedral was built by men like me, and it will be preserved as such.”
The man waited no longer; but it was then he realized the hira-shuriken embedded in the flesh where his thumb should have been. With horror, he realized it was on the floor between his boots, and moments later came the searing pain. He looked back to the soldier who now was face-to-face with him. The defeated man fell against the altar and banged his head against the metal. In so much pain, he wasn’t sure if any of this was real. Another cyborg appeared beside him—a dazzling woman with the same dead eyes.
“Demons, demons…”
Aliss revealed his 1840 Calvary Saber. Valerie watched passively, having done her part.
“I assure you, I’m much worse than anything Satan could conjure up.”
Down in the street, the reporter and his cameraman were joined by newly arriving soldiers. All were gathered around the cathedral. Among them were Major Johnson, Commander Kane, and, of course, four members of the New Rough Riders. All their eyes were on the west bell tower. Almost too small to see, but definitely there, was a woman scaling the structure and at a rapid rate. Within a few minutes, she stood atop it.
The bells dinged as she held in one hand her drawn sword and in the other a steel pole UNR flag. Valerie stabbed it into the building’s tough stone with ease and then raised her sword over her head in silence. Following that gesture were the hallowed cheers and battle cries of thousands. She could see them all from up here, clogging the streets. She would cherish this moment for all time, as did her fellow cyborgs.
Aliss found himself clapping, something he rarely did. Now she’s a keeper.
***
October 15, 2065 - Warren Sanctuary, UNR Headquarters
Kearney had never felt such a fevered anger in his life. He was pacing quickly through the grass toward a being many times stronger than himself. Never before had he approached a cyborg in such a way, but today his fear had vanished without a trace. He spotted 3-05 seated on a bench beside the pond. Kearney did not greet the super soldier at all. He only stood next to the bench waiting for Aliss to acknowledge him.
Until this point, Aliss had been watching the coy feed near the surface. Kearney’s arrival sent the fish scattering. 3-05 set down the bag of feed. The time of recollection has come to an end.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t give me that shit, not now! You know exactly why I’m here!”
“A target has evaded us. I will see to her capture myself.”
“And you still hold to your plan? Still?!”
“Why wouldn’t I, sir?”
“Because it was unnecessary! Your sick plan has added to the fire!”
“And you say that even after reading over their files? Knowing that Unit 37 was responsible for the San Pedro Massacre?”
“That case is still being investigated by the PSID to this day! Your personal feelings were not to be a factor in your decision!”
Aliss’ eyes caught the coy returning to feed.
“There was nothing personal in my decision. It has always been my job to follow weak links. 21 escaped my verdict because of the controversy surrounding his family. This led to a slaughter on our shores and a hero like Valerie Iglesias being sentenced to a fate she didn’t deserve.”
With Aliss’ tone now angry, Kearney allowed him to say his piece.
/> “We failed every soldier who died that day. We spat in the faces of their families. I will be damned before I let it happen again.”
Chapter 17 - All of Us
October 16, 2065 - Fort Hosbon, Ontario, Canada
You holdin’ up man? Looks to me like you can’t hack it. Jacob’s eyes were grateful to see there was still darkness in the barrack. There was a window of time before the sun rose to disturb him, so he looked to his nightstand. The small table was a luxury afforded only to Officer’s Block with everyone else making do with their small trunk. Inside his nightstand’s bottom drawer were a multitude of pillboxes arranged in no particular fashion. Neeson was accustomed to these early dawns and saw what he needed in the hoard. He reached out with his left hand, taking hold of one.
“Anti-depressants, pain-killers, God knows what else. All that authorized?”
Jacob sat up in his bed as if a gun was pointed at him, heart racing and breathing rapid. In the dark across from him he saw a glimmer. The cyborg was seated on the edge of his bed and out of uniform. It was still shocking to see the old warrior not in his armor and coat, so much so that Jacob almost doubted it was Will at all. Other than that cold voice, Jacob recognized something else—that familiar sword. Handkerchief in hand, apparently he was in the midst of cleaning the killing tool. He didn’t stay fazed for long.
“You are too damn analytical for my taste, Will, but I love the rare moments I can feel on top. These are prescription, actually.”
He saw Will’s eyes focus entirely on him.
“At the rate you used to empty bottles you may not have reached forty, given. Is this really any better as an alternative?”
“As good as alternatives get. I hear when the older dudes start feeling it bad they even have shit to counteract it.”
“Putting off the inevitable in the long run. The doctor who used to pump me full of that shit looked a day not over thirty. He was just as frail as any other man his age on the inside.”
“Our clocks run a little faster than yours; do forgive us.”
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