by Jared Paul
"Far Stranger, check the scanners," demanded Zero.
A moment of radio silence was followed by the break of static, "Negative signals. United Corps vessel, 'Beast of Burden, is undetected in all sensor proximities."
The Commander frothed, "They couldn't have just dropped out of the sky!"
"Possibility unknown," stated the intelligence.
"Well, what is it that you do know, if anything?" Zero paused for a breath and dismissed the synthetic life form before it could give another useless answer. "Never mind, Far Stranger. I'll have to take care of this by myself. Return to standby."
The Commander adjusted his radio and accessed a different frequency. "United Corps, come in." Only silence returned his call. "'Beast of Burden,' do you read?" Still nothing. "President Nightwood, are you there?" No response. "Nightwood, what is your location!" Still no answer. It was no use. The United Corps had either left the area or they simply didn't want to be found.
In an irate state, Zero accused Deadstock of foul play, "This is your doing, isn't it, Doctor?"
The Overlord twitched his nose into a scrunch as his eyebrows slumped a little lower on his brow. "Why would I have anything to do with this?"
The Commander loomed over angrily. "Where did she go?"
Deadstock flailed his arms outward. "How could I possibly know that?"
Zero was convinced of double dealing. "She's your wife, isn't she?"
"That was a long time ago." The Overlord grew calmer and attempted to extend his calm to the Commander. "She's on her own now. Her choices belong to her, not me."
Commander Zero then gave in to reason and shook off the troubling matter from his mind. "Forget it. I give up trying to work with the United Corps. Better for them to stay out of our way. Now we get the whole island to ourselves."
"Quiet!" Deadstock wasn't arguing back. He had a legitimate purpose in throwing up a hand to hush the ruckus as he carefully listened to the wind. A faint rumbling was flowing through the air. It buzzed and blurted inconsistently, yet all the while coming steadily closer. "Does anybody else hear that?"
"Something's coming," perceived Sentria.
"Almost sounds like honeybees," said Fossil.
"Impossible," doubted Zero. "There haven't been any bees since we were boys. I haven't seen so much as a hornet since the days of the old world."
"It's not bees," Deadstock said in his cautious attention. "It's something much bigger."
Sentria budded in, "Whatever it is, it's getting closer. It's coming straight for us!"
The distant roar was ricocheting off the concrete configurations all around us, fizzling and cracking like dry leaves in a fire. The sound was enveloping our position and consuming our every thought. The vibration continued to grow nearer and louder until we could finally make out what it was. It was the roar of engines.
Defensively, the Commander huddled us all together. "All squads, secure the perimeter!"
Quickly, we all grouped up into a triangular formation. Standing side by side, we faced forward from three outward angles. With our hyper guns readied and our hearts beating fast, we searched for the source of the unnerving acoustic rumblings. Then, in a flock of chaos, we sighted a swarm of swerving forms across the horizon. Having no coordination through their flight, the objects swooped down closer in a mishmash pattern.
Zero exclaimed, "Looks like we're in for a bush bash! Defend this landing zone and prepare to engage the enemy!"
Closer, the sunlight revealed the incoming gush of the dark flecks in the sky. As bullets could tear clean through paper, the objects struck us hard like unstoppable missiles. They flew by us so fast and hit us so hard that we didn't know how to react. The projectiles were plowing into us, taking us out, and then flying on through. Zero tried to shoot a few of them down as he unloaded a clip into the air, but the objects were too fast and too concealed by thick smoke spewing from their tails. We weren't being shelled. It wasn't missiles coming at us. It was mounted wasteland exiles, riding wobbly clumps of rickety metal and trailing a haze of black gas from behind.
The fumes were awful. The exhaust of their engines was unbearable, even through the air purification of our helmets. I'm not sure if the vapors were intended as weapons themselves, but it sure seemed like it. The saddled wasteland dwellers didn't seem to mind, for they were protected behind their shabby gas masks and various mismatched equipment.
Decreasing in altitude, they were a good dozen or so. Each of them were riding their own clunky motors of the air, the Low Atmo bikes. Defiant against gravity, these singular manned transports were named for their ability to fly anywhere in the earth's lower atmosphere. The Low Atmos were made from bits and parts of old motorbikes, aircrafts, and whatever else could be scavenged. The fenders put out anti-gravitational rays as opposed to treaded tires. Exhaust pipes were still the same, only I can't imagine that the fumes were as bad in the old world. The Low Atmo bikes proved to be challenging adversaries, but fortunately we were all carrying something just as unbounded, our jet packs.
The fleet of Low Atmos swung back around for another visit and Zero gave the order to engage, "All squads, fight at will! Kill the riders! Kill them all!"
Obnoxiously loud and lethally armed for any arena of land or sky, the bikes zoomed back into the landing zone. Bullets began blasting from barrels welded to the front of the bikes as Thralls were shot down, run over, and wiped out. Igniting our jet packs, we took to a higher ground, so to speak, as we established a defensible position up in the air. It would be our jet packs versus the Low Atmo bikes as a furious battle for the sky commenced.
In the madness of the aerial conflict, Dr. Deadstock had remained on the ground below. He wasn't yet in the fight, taking his time. Beneath the battle, he seemed to be meditating as one preparing to enter the ring. Anytime now, I thought to myself, he would bring this skirmish to an end.
A grungy wasteland rogue caught sight of his lonely deliberation. He veered his bike around and pointed the nose of his bike down to the Overlord. Tauntingly revving the handlebars, he was heading straight for him.
Deadstock stood fast, unflinching as bullets flew into his stance. The rounds dissipated through his ghostly presence. He had concentrated himself into a state of half matter, a weave. The Low Atmo's bullets went flying through him, hitting the concrete behind.
Before the biker could turn around when he realized what was about to happen, his bike streamed straight into the Overlord. The bike merged with his molecules and passed through to the other side of his being. Plunging into the concrete behind, the wasteland vermin crashed his Low Atmo into the ground in a fireball of destruction. Deadstock reappeared in physical form, unmoved and unscathed from the fiery impact around him.
In attempt to avenge the fallen rider, two more caught the Overlord's gaze and positioned to engage him. Deadstock closed his eyes and breathed in as the two bikes descended toward where he was standing. Alternating one right behind the other, the mounted side guns fired away to no avail. The shots were blasting through the intangible, pixelated presence of Deadstock as every bullet missed its mark.
Head bent in a glare of cold steel, the Overlord opened his eyes. His hand then immediately drew his sidearm from its holster and pointed the hefty gun up to the sky. A couple wallops zipped from the Dragon's Throat's muzzle and shot into the inbounding Low Atmos. One after the other, the bikes fell from their place in the sky. Through explosions of fire, smoke, flesh, and gears, the Overlord ignited his jet pack and ascended into the sky to finish off the rest.
An expert marksman, Deadstock discharged his pistol with powerful bursts of gunpowder. The shots sent limbs and engine parts everywhere up into the air. With the precise use of his jet pack along with weaving, the Overlord rapidly went here and there throughout the spectacular in-air battle, always taking the enemy by surprise. No matter how hard they tried, the wasteland attackers could never keep up or stay ahead.
Zero wasn't faring so badly himself. Defensively speaking, the
rest of us were keeping ourselves alive, but not really doing much damage to the enemy. The Commander, on the other hand, was one of the few Thralls battling back with an offensive push. The wasteland riders weren't chasing him around in the sky like they were everyone else in the legion. He was chasing them.
Without fabricating in the slightest, Zero had punched one of them off the seat of their bike. Stealing it, he hopped on it for himself and rode off to hunt down some more. He found another rider to pursue, but the chase soon began faltering. Thus, the Commander hunched forward into the handlebars to increase the aerodynamics. While leaning forward, he used his own jet pack as an auxiliary thruster. I thought Zero might break the sound barrier in his seemingly supersonic speed.
With the increased throttle at maximum, he came up behind his prey and fired away. The Low Atmo in front blew apart as Zero merged through the flaming leftovers. Going on after another, the Commander steered up behind, only to realize the barrels were sputtering without firing. His bike was out of ammo.
Never one to miss an adrenaline dropping opportunity, Zero dangerously sped the bike forward into the Low Atmo ahead. Just before the two bikes rammed into each other, the Commander shut off his jet pack as he let go of the revving handles. Next, he flipped over the seat into a freefall as the two bikes slammed and exploded overhead.
For a brief moment, he floated in the air without trying to fly or regain any altitude. Zero simply spread out his arms to fully embrace the fall. He was enjoying it all, playing on the edge of death if for no other reason than just because he could. As a demise of concrete closed in beneath him, he spun up and came to a soft landing, finally activating his jet pack at the very last second.
"You crazy kangaroo! Would you quit messing around?" Fossil said, half serious and half not as he flew by with a sway of his head. I took note that the old Australian was probably used to these kinds of death defying antics, having grown up with Zero all his life. Fossil must have learned long ago that all he could ever do was shake his head and be glad his little brother had survived.
Soon after, the number of wasteland riders dwindled down to none. Jet packs had proved to be the better tool in the fight. We all settled ourselves back to the landing zone while the Commander looked around at what was left of our legion. It wasn't much of a legion anymore as only a handful of us were still breathing.
"Everybody sound off," said Zero. "I want a head count."
With aches and moans, we took a roll call ending with an assessment by Sentria. "Out of the thirty we started with, we've only got nine left. That's just enough to form three new squads, but its spreading us pretty thin."
"Well, that was a slaughter," scorned Zero, disappointed at the outcome. He seemed nonchalant about it all, unmoved at the heavy losses that had trustingly placed themselves under his care and command. Maybe that's how he coped with loss. Maybe he'd seen so much death in his time that he just didn't care anymore, if even he ever did.
If it was only the mission that meant anything to him, then we were just expendable means to accomplish it. I didn't want to believe that, though. The Commander was like a father to me and a father to many others. I just couldn't think evil of him, no matter the evidence. Apparently, Zero didn't want us to think badly toward him, either. As childish as it was, he pulled out a card for the blame game, shrugging off the fatalities from his responsibilities, trying to blame it all on someone else.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," he said. "I think I've made a blue."
I think Deadstock could see what was happening, but played along anyway. "Sorry for what, exactly?"
"I'm sorry that I brought you here. I'm sorry that I thought you could help us. Most of all, I'm sorry that you couldn't save more. Such a shame that all you could focus on was saving yourself." It became clear that Zero wanted to turn the legion against the Overlord.
Deadstock showed some teeth as he bit back, "What are you implying? Do you actually believe that I didn't try to save all that I could?"
Zero went on, "I think you purposefully didn't do all that you could've done. I brought you here for a reason, to protect us. You're holding back and you're not just hurting yourself by doing it, but everyone else here too."
The Overlord spoke out slow and harsh with a pointed finger, "Do not ever blame me for the blood on your own hands. This has been a bloodbath from the very start and none of it was my doing. This was not my idea. I didn't ask to be here, Commander. You asked me. Remember that. Now back off."
Desperately, Sentria arbitrated, "There's plenty of terrors still waiting to be found on this forsaken island. No use griping about the ones that have already happened. I suggest we keep moving. The sooner we can ground reinforcements, the sooner we can get off this rock."
"Captain Sentria is right," announced the Commander to all. "There's still two more of the Blood Tech generators out there. We've only found one. Let's go and take care of them and get this blasted Spider's Shield off our heads. We can't complete the mission until it's eliminated and we can't pull out so long as that shield is up and running. Everyone, you know what to do. Form new squads, make sure you have demolition payloads on hand and disperse out. Keep a close watch on your radiation meters as you do. We haven't see any of the real weapons yet, but they've got radiation rifles here, I'm sure of it. Azure Squad, I want that generator brought down to ash. Sentria, my squad will take the lower perimeter after demolition. Take Ivory and storm the rooftops. Stay parallel to me at all times. We're going to take this island together."
"Copy that," nodded Sentria.
Zero then turned to Deadstock, "Violet, you're with me."
"I want my own squad," objected the Overlord.
"Fine." Zero looked over at us in Squad Lime. It was just down to Nix and me. Our squad leader had been taken out in the fall. "You two, Boone and Nix, you're both with Violet now."
The order to change squads was quickly put into effect. Nix sauntered over to Deadstock while I got pulled off privately to the side by Sentria. She presented a custom transponder as she expounded on the gift.
"Solomon, switch out your radio for this one," she said, handing the altered device to me. "I've made a few improvements to the standard communication system. Everyone else's radio has two channels. One is for squad leaders to other squad leaders. The second is for squad leaders to their squads. Your new radio has three channels as does mine. The third is so we can talk to each other in private. No matter what, you can contact me on that frequency. You call, I'll answer. No matter what."
"No matter what," I repeated her words in agreement and we quickly pecked each other on the lips.
The Overlord then called for me, "Violet Squad, sync suits in three, two, one, and sync."
Upon synchronization, the lime green lights of my suit turned purple as did Nix's suit as well. I formed up with Violet as Sentria gave a directive to us from behind, "Protect the Overlord at all costs."
Deadstock didn't take it kindly, "Thank you, Captain, but I'll be commanding my own squad, not you."
Nix sneered provokingly to add insult to Sentria's dismissal. Having already been reprimanded earlier, Sentria wasn't about to fuel the fire of rivalry any more than she already had. Out on the field, it only gets people killed. There on Fever Island though, I don't think Sentria would've minded very much if Nix met an end.
Zero and his Azure Squad then approached Violet to assure our full cooperation, "Stay in contact. I want no solo work being done out there. Understand?"
Deadstock didn't answer. He didn't even bother to look up as he gaped at the ground, the blood on the concrete, the bodies now suppressed into the island rubble. "So much death," he reflected. "So much devastation."
"You know, I had a dream last night," told the Commander. "I dreamed of an island not unlike the one were standing on now. In place of concrete and graffiti, however, this island was ripe full of thick jungle. I explored under every tree and uncovered every leaf and bush, but I never found anything but my own wasted time. As I sai
led away from the island, I looked back and caught a glimpse of something that I'd never noticed before. It was a peak. At the center of the island was a mountain. The moment I saw it, I realized I'd never made the climb. After exploring the whole island and doing all that there was to do, I never once took the time to climb to the very top."
"There's your summit, Commander." Deadstock pointed to the central, dilapidated tower of Fever Island. "My guess is that one of the Blood Tech generators can be found at the top of that tower. The weapon that you came for might be up there too. It's where I would keep it if this was my island."
"My reckoning exactly," perceived Zero. "We'll make a full push for that rundown stronghold as we sweep the complex."
The Overlord mused, "I'm not normally one for superstition, but it looks like your subconscious knew a little more about this island in your dream than we all did before we ever stepped foot on this jumbled rock."
"Except, in my dream, Doctor, I wasn't myself." Zero smiled craftily. "I was you."
The revelation changed the whole perception of the dream. Zero was jabbing that the Overlord didn't have it in him to make the climb to conquer whatever happened to be ahead. The Commander was either referring to Deadstock's inability to perform the mission at hand or he was implying the Doctor's failure to save the world all those years ago. It might've been both.
Either way, the Overlord was infuriated. "Spare me your manipulations, old friend. I'm not easily corrupted by the tangled threads of false prophets. I swear by every galaxy I've seen, by every planet I've stepped foot on, by every last ounce of strength within me, and by every drop of blood that's been spilled. I swear that if any of these people died in vain today by anything of your doing, you'll lie vanquished at my feet. This, I swear to you, Zero. I swear it."
Zero had no response. He had only the shocked look of one who had just got knocked to the ground. He adjusted the strap of his Brawler gun as he escaped the piercing eyes of the Overlord.