by Attard, Ryan
“Earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and volcanic eruptions destroyed the tribes until only a scant few survivors remained. The leaders decided to each take an orb and migrate to the four corners of the earth, where they would never interfere with one another again. Never again would they wage war with the weapons of the gods. So, they established their separate civilizations and settled there. But, still fearing war, they hid those objects, so that no one would ever threaten to destroy mankind again.”
Nick finished reading, and silence fell, broken only by the stifled symphony of the ever-shifting minerals slithering about.
“So, this gift from the gods,” Astrid said, while straightening his shoulders and pretending not to be affected by Nick’s story. “They are some sort of weapon of mass destruction?”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Potentially, yes. But you see this stuff, here?” he said, pointing at the various metals and minerals on the walls. “All that came from the orb, that gift from the gods. That is what it does, create oil, gold, whatever you want. An endless supply of fuel and precious metals.”
“Ah, yes.” Astrid’s maniacal smile had returned. “I can hold the world hostage, or blow it up as I see fit.” The barrel of his gun jabbed Nick in the back. “Lead the way, Mister Solomon.”
The main room was as Finnegan had left it all those centuries ago: two pedestals, one coming down from the ceiling, and the other emerging from the ground, with a hollow portion in the middle where the artifact was supposed to hover inside an electromagnetic field.
Instead, it was now stiffly pressed on the rim of the lower pedestal, stuck to the blade of a sword.
The surrounding area was a clutter of dead machines. Wires hung out from panels—no doubt a result of violent feedback generated by the orb when Finnegan stabbed his weapon into it.
As the mercenaries entered, shining flashlights on every console and corner, their awe was evident. Nick noticed the pods from where the automatons were manufactured and the small concealed nodes of the force field as they walked through the doorway it once guarded. Skeletal remains of pirates bold enough to venture in littered the floor, accompanied by an assortment of belt buckles, buttons, earrings, pistols, swords, and knives; anything men of the sea carried.
One of them, closer to the pedestal than the rest, wore a crucifix, and Nick immediately identified him as Father Rodriguez.
“What happened here?” Astrid asked. His voice carried eerily around the circular room.
“Pirates, most likely,” Nick replied as he nudged a flintlock with his toe. “Maybe they took shelter here. This part of the Pacific tends to get quite stormy.”
“Pirates?” Astrid echoed. “Then, explain this.” He picked up a metal skull from a pile of scrap metal on the ground. “What the hell is that thing?”
Nick took the metal head from his hands. It felt exactly like a skull, only smoother and cooler to the touch. There were no signs of rust or age, just a light cover of dust and muck, marking the passage of time. A flat sheet of metal and a series of bent rods were next to it, what had once been a chest plate and ribs for an automaton. Nick had no idea what happened to the rest of the body and, to be honest, he wasn’t that curious to find out.
Some things were better left unattended.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, dropping the head. “I suggest you don’t touch anything. Some of these chemicals may be radioactive,” he added, hoping that would keep the majority of the soldiers from getting too close and asking too many questions.
Astrid dropped the metal rib he was toying with as if it were made out the plague. “What is this place?”
Nick pointed at the orb in the middle of the room. “You wanna find out? I think I can activate it.”
The Spaniard’s expression turned lustful once more. He was soon going to be the richest and most powerful man on the planet, and like most maniacs, patience was not a virtue he possessed.
“Do it,” he said, almost immediately.
Nick walked up to the console by himself. Everyone else was too afraid to approach the eerie machine and opted to watch from a safe distance close to the entrance—which was exactly how Nick predicted they would act.
“Yo, Agent,” he called out to Excalibur. “Come over here and hold down this lever. This thing was built for a team to operate.”
Excalibur shouldered a mercenary, slipping from his grip and walked towards Nick. “What the hell are you planning?” she whispered through clenched teeth. She twisted her bound wrists and grabbed the lever Nick was indicating.
“Just trust me,” he whispered.
“What’s the hold up?” Astrid had his gun pointed at them again. “If you two double cross me, I swear-”
“Oh, shut up,” Nick snapped. “I’m just about done.”
Astrid glared at him and pulled the slide on his gun, cocking it. “Do you remember what I said about insolence, Solomon?”
At that same time, Nick finished his tinkering and winked at Excalibur. “It’s done,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Without waiting for Astrid’s feedback, he went over to the pedestals, grabbed the hilt of Finnegan’s sword, and pulled. The saber resisted, but he got his leg up against the platform and heaved with his entire body.
The sword snapped free, sending Nick tumbling backwards.
The orb let out a high-pitched tone and sprang back in place, hovering in-between the two pedestals as the electromagnetic field hummed back to life and crackled menacingly.
Seconds later, the consoles lit up like a holiday decoration. A series of buzzing and whirring sounds gave life to the cavern, making the minerals snake around at a quicker pace, like blood pulsating in a vein. Various mechanical arms jutted out of the main console and began moving up against panels, either performing repairs or rebooting dormant systems. The force field at the mouth of the room was reactivated, sealing everyone inside.
A disembodied mechanical voice came to life, echoing like a god from ancient times.
“Warning. Intruders detected.”
The series of chambers embedded inside the walls hissed and whirred, once again performing the same task they had executed all those years ago.
“Select DNA recognized. Mission parameters: self-preservation. Evolution Protocol restored.”
The chamber doors opened and five pairs of silicone eyes lit up as the automatons walked forwards with mechanical precision.
Confusion and panic took hold of the mercenaries, and they responded in the only way they knew: by opening fire. Bullets ricocheted off of the androids’ metal chassis and the orb’s electromagnetic field, sending lethal bits of metal flying all over the place. It soon dawned on the mercenaries that their weapons had little effect against this threat, and chaos dominated their minds.
Nick grabbed Excalibur. “Run!”
Chapter 36
Bullets whizzed by like angry wasps, as they ran into a small enclave that provided the barest of covers. Nick saw bullets spark against the walls and bounce off, inches from their face. He pressed Excalibur against the enclave and fumbled for the lighter he took off Mowgli.
“Hold still,” he said, lighting a flame and melting the plastic restraints on her wrists.
Once she was free from her bonds, her hands automatically reached for her weapon but found none.
“This is your grand plan,” she yelled sarcastically, over the chaos of gunfire and screams of men being for apart by killer robots. “What now, Professor?”
Nick pointed at the pedestals. “I can make it stop.” She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “I don’t know how, I just know I can. I felt a connection to the machine when I activated it, and I’ve also got Finnegan’s memories. He was able to shut it down. Also, when I activated it, I made sure to set up the connection I wanted, but I haven’t activated it yet.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I press a button, the machine becomes my BFF and stops producing Terminator robots,”
he translated in plain, colloquial English. “But I need a distraction to reach the main console.”
“You mean a bigger distraction than the robots and mercenaries shooting up the place?”
“Hey, at least they can finish each other off and we pick the survivors. Better than getting screwed from both ends,” he retorted.
Excalibur grinned. “There you go making everything sound dirty again.” She poked her head out in time to see the hired guns take down three of the automatons using their assault rifles and a few sparse grenades. The remaining two automatons butchered any man who failed to put enough distance between them.
“I can go in and buy you some time,” she said.
“You got a plan?”
She glanced at Finnegan’s cutlass, still in Nick’s hand. “You go old-school. I’ll see if I can borrow a few guns. Wait for my signal.”
Excalibur dashed from her cover, straight for a stray mercenary who was busy reloading. She grabbed his rifle and drove the butt end of the weapon into the man’s face. Taking his rifle, she slapped the magazine in place, kicked away another mercenary, and shot the both of them. Still keeping her momentum, she turned and emptied the clip on an automaton’s head. The android stumbled, allowing her to drive the barrel between its ribs with enough force to damage the engine under the chest plate. In a matter of seconds, she scooped up a pistol from another dead gunman and engaged another mercenary.
All the while Nick watched her, mesmerized. She reminded him of a tiger: helpless in a cage, but once unleashed it was a beautiful and deadly force to be reckoned with.
“Move your ass, Solomon,” she yelled.
Shaking himself from his daze, Nick sprinted out of cover, just as the disembodied voice echoed again.
“Evolution Protocol, engaged.”
Two of the chambers at the back hissed once more, and a fresh pair of automatons emerged. Their structure was thicker, leaving less space between their ribs, just enough to ventilate steam from their internal engines. They were nearly seven feet, and bulkier than their cousins, almost as wide as they were tall.
And to make matters worse, these models were armed with a minigun on each forearm.
“Ah, crap.”
The two new automatons opened fire, bullets trailing Nick as he dashed towards the orb. He crashed into an android—one of the first models—and drove the cutlass between its ribs, destroying it. He used its body as a shield until he crossed to the other side.
The newer automatons’ barrage of fire lasted about thirty full seconds before their miniguns ran out of ammo. The weapons disengaged from the robots and fell into the ground where they instantly melted into a silvery substance and were absorbed into the ground, like water to a sponge.
In place of their depleted mini guns, each automaton now had a thick blade jutting from each forearm. They charged forwards like bulls, impaling and eviscerating anyone who got in their way.
Nick dove behind the pedestals hoisting the orb and reached for the connection he had with the machine. He felt calm and at peace, as if he was part of a large machine—exactly the way his Select powers made him feel.
He reached over and pressed a series of buttons. Instantly, the automatons stood very still, awaiting fresh orders.
“Evolution Protocol, terminated. Self-Preservation Protocol, terminated. Resuming idle function.”
Nick sighed in relief, happy that both he and Excalibur were alive—as well as a few more bad guys currently engaging her in combat—when suddenly he felt a presence behind him.
He spun, Finnegan’s cutlass in hand, and parried an incoming sword strike. Nick found himself in a blade lock against Astrid who had picked up a discarded pirate sword and swung at Nick. Both weapons smashed into the console and Astrid snarled at him, as both men struggled for leverage.
Astrid gave Nick a shove and lunged but Nick parried and swiftly moved out of reach.
“You are very hard to kill, Mister Solomon,” Astrid spat in Nick’s direction. “I lost my men, my chance at gold, and even my prized gun. But now, I can face you in a duel—man to man—and I’ll have the pleasure of killing you myself.” He whipped his sword around and assumed a fencing stance. “I will inform you that I am the current champion in Spanish fencing for the third year in a row.”
He thrust, exchanged two quick blows with Nick and quickly retreated again.
“Good for you,” Nick replied with a sneer. “Does that mean I get a title when I kick your ass?”
Astrid attacked again, but this time, Nick was ready. He parried, pressing Astrid against the console. His sword accidentally hit a panel and the automatons sprang back to life, charging at the surviving mercenaries.
One of the machine’s arms whipped towards Nick and Astrid, forcing both of them to retreat. They ended up right in the middle of a gun fight between the automatons and mercenaries.
The two swordsmen ran for cover and traded blows in one of the chambers where the automatons emerged from. In the narrower space, Astrid found it difficult to maneuver while Nick easily shifted to close quarter fighting, trading sword strikes for punches, elbows and knee strikes. Astrid fought back, throwing his fist at Nick’s nose. Tears and blood streamed from his face, and Nick retaliated with a powerful roundhouse kick to the Spaniard’s knee. He followed it with an elbow to the man’s collarbone.
Astrid was sent reeling out of the chamber, all the while muttering a string of curses in his mother tongue.
Nick waited until he ran out of breath and locked swords with him again. “Yo puedo entendar (I can understand you),” he said, in perfect Spanish. “Pendero.”
The sudden switch in language was a psychological tactic, a ploy to rattle Astrid, showing him that whenever he thought he could freely converse in Spanish, in reality he was just revealing more information. Almost immediately Astrid’s mind went into panic, causing him to freeze up. Nick managed to score a cut on his non-dominant arm and kicked him in the chest. Astrid stumbled painfully onto the ground and clutched his bleeding arm.
“Puto! (Son of a bitch!)” he swore, wildly swinging his sword at Nick.
Promptly, Nick hopped on top one of the dead consoles. “Bite me,” he said as he blocked a strike aimed for his legs. “And you swing like a girl.”
Astrid climbed on top of the console as well and his strikes got more ferocious the more Nick goaded him. The latter kicked him again, this time in the groin, and leapt off the console onto the pedestal that housed the orb. Mechanical arms rose up to intercept him, but they either couldn’t reach or Nick cut them down. He stuck the landing and flipped off the Spaniard.
With a feral yell, Astrid hobbled towards Nick’s perch and proceeded to hack at a couple of mechanical arms before engaging Nick. The two traded blows, with the limited space making it impossible to properly lunge or swing. They also had to be careful of the orb’s electromagnetic field which was constantly pulling at their blades.
Nick accidentally struck a lever and fell forwards. With a delighted snarl, Astrid stabbed downwards but missed. Nick grabbed his arm and dragged Astrid off the console. The two clashed into a blade lock, with Astrid bending Nick over the console.
“Just die, Solomon, so I can have my precious treasure. Die, so I can reap my reward.” His face was inches away from Nick’s. “But mostly, just die.”
“Reap this.”
Nick turned his face towards the orb and kicked Astrid away long enough to yell out a command. “Vocal overdrive. Select user command. Engage full system shut down.”
Nick realized his mistake as soon as he finished inputting the command. Yes, he had innate knowledge as to how the machine worked, but he had no idea how to properly interact with it, much in the same way that animals could not operate human technology. This was an alien machine and was never designed to serve humans. Nick underestimated the complexity of the orb, simply because he was a Select. He only meant to shut it down, to render the machine useless.
Instead, he got something much, much
worse.
“Select DNA Recognized. Self-Destruct Protocol initiated. Calculating time remaining until execution: Twenty seconds.”
***
Outside the cave
Military helicopters and armed vehicles congregated outside the entrance of the cave.
Director Briggs gave the order to proceed ahead, and together with a squad of highly trained Navy SEALs, made his way into the darkness. His men had been debriefed and sworn to secrecy. It wasn’t their first time executing missions that were out of the ordinary, just like it wasn’t their job to ask questions—only execute orders.
They strutted through the walls depicting living murals, and headed straight towards the gun fight. They opened fire on the most obvious targets, the automatons. Their ammunition was specific to the task, able to rend the chassis of the machines’s breastplates and mow them down. The mercenaries tried to fight back, but they never stood a chance.
“Calculating: Fifteen seconds.”
“Solomon, shut it down,” Excalibur yelled. She flipped a mercenary over her shoulder and applied a choke hold with the man’s rifle strap.
“Kinda busy, here,” Nick replied as he dodged a slash from Astrid aimed at his neck.
Excalibur spun in a crouch and fired a quick three-round-burst on Nick’s position. She meant to shoot Astrid, but her bullets were redirected by the orb’s electromagnetic field and were sent scattering all over the place. Nick and Astrid ducked under the console.
“What the hell?” Nick yelled. “A little warning next time.”
“Calculating: Twelve seconds.”
The Navy SEALs advanced, killing the mercenaries even if they surrendered. They couldn’t afford the luxury of taking prisoners, not ones who had witnessed events meant only for secret government facilities.
Astrid and Nick’s sword fight had devolved into a raw, bloody fistfight as they hit and kicked at each other, stabbing and slashing with their weapons, while at the same time dodging the occasional stray bullet.