The Apostates

by Lars Teeney

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  The battleships in the Apostate picket line opened fire. A thunderous barrage was brought to bear on the meager shore defenses of New Megiddo City. There had been artillery pieces put into place and Regime tanks that fired out toward the ships, but the caliber of these weapons was only suitable to inflict superficial wounds to the Apostate fleet. The shells fired from the fleet landed with explosive force, tearing into the defenders tasked with preventing the Apostates from coming ashore. The once silent waterfront of New Megiddo city was now alight with the bonfires of destruction. Further back behind the battleship picket line, the landing forces descended the rope ladders that lead them down to their landing craft, which was little more that a hodge-podge of motorboats, fishing trawlers, tugboats, row boats, and some legitimate amphibious landing craft. The awkward flotilla filled with bodies; meat to be flung toward the grinder of a city.

  Ravine-Gulch waited within a crowded landing craft. Not far from him, several boats away was Angel-Seraphim, and in a neighboring craft was Hades-Perdition. Whistles were blown from the weather decks of the various cargo and logistics ships, that signaled the first wave of landing craft to proceed. It was the motorized vessels that were sent forward first because they were faster than rowing craft. The Apostate members were situated in the few amphibious landing craft in their possession. They were off: cutting through the choppy waters of the bay. Overhead the arcing shells of the battleship’s salvos flew. In the distance, their impacts were made obvious by the huge explosions created in their wake.

  The landing craft crossed the threshold of the battleship picket line. The towering, gray, beasts spewed forth their fiery breath and shook the surrounding waters. The assault troops among the landing craft had to cover their ears for fear of going deaf. As the motorized landing craft moved closer to shore, the second wave of ore-powered boats were given the order to advance. These vessels moved slowly but surely to the rhythm of chants and muscles driving them forward.

  Then all hell broke loose: the shore opened up with a withering hail of mortars, small arms, and artillery fire, which peppered the surrounding waters of the advancing landing craft. Columns of water were sent upwards as the shells struck the surface of the bay. One mortar scored a direct hit on an amphibious landing craft, sending up into the air, an assortment of shrapnel and shredded human parts, like a macabre, tossed salad. Ravine-Gulch ducked his head down after the side of the landing craft was raked by machine gun fire. With weight pressing against him, when he looked up he was met with a body possessing a bloody stump, with a hint of spine peeking through. He pushed the body off of him and peered over the top of the vessel. The shoreline was approaching fast.

  “Get ready for disembarkation! We’re nearly at the beach!” Ravine yelled loudly to the panicked faces of the men around him. They stiffened up and checked their gear, bringing their guns to the ready. The amphibious landing craft hit a sandy portion of the beach, and from there was supported by treads, which carried it forward over the white sand. The landing craft took up a position behind a cement sea wall, and the armored hydraulic ramp dropped down to let the soldiers contained within spill out and take up defensive positions along the tidal wall. Ravine kept low behind the wall. He could hear the rounds ricocheting off the top of the tidal wall, and mortar rounds were exploded on the beach, shooting sand into the air.

  “Angel! Hades! Have you two made it onto the beach?” he pinged both of them via his neural implant.

  “I’m here, but the soldiers under my command have taken heavy casualties,” Angel reported in.

  “I too am also on the beach, with a similar situation,” Hades also reported in.

  “Well, we should order a general assault and get off this beach!” Ravine suggested.

  “Yes, let us end this so that we can get to the Divinity Center of the Capital!” Hades exclaimed. The three Apostates ordered their respective companies forward. Soldiers jumped the sea wall at three separate locations. The Regime machine gunners and mortars were ready for the Apostate soldiers who jumped up over the sea wall. A barrage was let loose from concealed points among the rubble and wreckage that the battleships cannonade had created. Men and women in the first attack wave were cut down by the half-dozen. The soldiers were forced to take cover behind any object available that offered asylum from the onslaught, be it car body, dumpster, brick pile, or collapsed building. They were pinned down as it were.

  “Hold tight. I’m going to try to gain some elevation.” Hades-Perdition did not elaborate. The others held their positions. Hades peeled off from the main body, toward the hollow shell of a gutted apartment building. He climbed up caved-in flooring, twisted rebar, and exposed timber framing, lugging his M82 strapped to his back, and the weight of his claymore. At last he reached the crest of the collapsed roof and took up a concealed position at the edge. Hades brought his M82 sniper rifle to bear and peered through the scope. As he scanned the rubble where he believed the concealed machine gun nests were placed, he could see the orange tracers of the bullets shot by the guns. His thermal scope wouldn’t work in the heat of the day, so he had to estimate the positions of the gun crews.

  From his satchel, Hades pulled a magazine loaded with armor-piercing, explosive rounds, then he loaded and prepared to fire. He controlled his breathing, then placed a round into a pile of rubble that concealed the gun crew. He could see through the scope that the round penetrated the pile of rubble. There was a secondary shock wave that he observed through the scope. Then, the gun was silent.

  “Angel-Seraphim your way is clear, advance! Advance!” Hades exclaimed.

  Angel ordered her company forward. The mortar rounds still reigned down at random. A few unlucky men were claimed by the indiscriminate shells. Angel withdrew the spear and extended the shaft, and ignited the plasma blade at the tip. Brandishing it, she and her men poured through the breach that Hades had created. Her force was met by Regime regular troops, who took potshots at the advancing Apostates, and still they kept coming. The fighting become up close and personal; fought with rifle stock, sidearm, knife, and bayonet. Two regulars charged at Angel, recognizing her as a high-value target. She stabbed at the two men with the spear point, forcing them to a halt. The two men circled her position, as they both looked for an opening. They brandishing daggers threateningly. A mortar round startled them all: going off too close for the comfort for any of them.

  Angel took the initiative and used the opening to attack, thrusting the plasma blade clean through one solder’s neck. The blade hissed with fleshy fuel for the fire. The other soldier attempted to attack her from behind, and yelled something about avenging his friend. She drove the butt end of the shaft into the man’s jaw. When the man realized that his jaw was fractured, he panicked and ran off in the opposite direction toward his lines. Angel thought that the man might meet a worse fate among his superior officers for cowardice, rather than dying by her spear.

  Once Hades had taken all the opportunities that came to him to clear the front line of defensive positions with his sniper rifle, the rest of the Apostate forces overran the waterfront district. Ravine’s force advanced up the left flank, Angel took the center, while Hades’s force advanced on the right. After some sporadic fighting, they had secured a sizeable beachhead, clearing the last pockets of resistance and knocking out the artillery pieces that threatened the landing craft.

  The three Apostates met up in the shadow of a half-standing sky-tower, to plan their next moves. The second wave of troops landed on the beaches. Dinghies and rowboats delivered their precious cargo to the sandy shores.

  “Great job. I suppose with things under control here it means I should take my leave. I can move faster alone. Ravine—Angel—I’ll leave the assault to you two. Good luck!” Hades informed them.

  “Are you sure you going to be okay by yourself?” Angel was worried about him; she did not want to lose another friend to a foolish decision.

  “Don’t worry about him. We’d proba
bly just hold him back anyway.” Ravine placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to ease her worry. With that Hades stowed away his rifle, and hoofed it away, disappearing into the heaps of rubble.

  Ravine and Angel stood silently for a time, surveying the logistics nightmare of the beachhead. Ravine thought about how he might slip away as well. He needed to get to the Church of New Megiddo Central Authority and get the answers he needed. He felt a tinge of guilt overcome him, as he was planning to leave Angel all alone with this mess on her hands. But, what else could he do? His mission was bigger than her inconvenience. He needed to isolate himself somewhere safe, where he could do the last dose of ‘Database’ and finish the puzzle.

  As Ravine finished that thought, a column of rock and debris was launched into the air several yards away. Startled by this fresh burst of violence, Ravine and Angel dropped low and scanned around to identify the source of the attack. Then they found it: a Regime armored column fired rounds in their direction. Tanks fanned out after they cleared a bottleneck. Ravine seized the opportunity to make himself scarce while Angel was distracted. He felt ashamed and cowardly, but it had to be done.

  “Hey, Ravine! Take your force right—” she stopped mid-sentence. When she turned to find him Ravine was gone. Angel pinged his neural implant, but he did not answer.

  “Fuck!” She didn’t usually curse, but, she was now left by herself in charge of the landing force. Angel wondered what had happened to Ravine. But, she didn’t have long to think because Martyr tanks thrusted through the Apostate lines, and heading for the landing zones.

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  “What do you mean he’s gone? He was in charge of a third of the landing force!” Gale-Whirlwind could not believe what she heard. Angel had, under a hail of enemy fire, informed her that Ravine-Gulch had disappeared.

  “Did you find a body or anything?” Gale had asked. The answer she got back was a resounding “no”. Gale told Angel to hold on and do what she could to stall the tank column. The battleships could not fire their guns in support because both forces were intertwined. Gale decided she would come to shore, to help command forces on the ground. The confusion of Ravine’s disappearance and chain-of-command vacuum that was left in his wake had sapped the momentum of the advance. She aimed to reclaim it. Gale did not want to believe that he was wounded or incapacitated somewhere; dying. What if something far worse had happened? What if he had abandoned the battle deliberately, to further his ‘Database’ habit? She didn’t want to think of all the terrible scenarios anymore. She hurried to the weather deck and peered over the side of the bulwark at the water below. Landing craft returned from the first run and now loaded up supplies and provisions to ferry to shore. Gale descended the rope ladder to hitch a ride on the waiting landing craft.

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  Hades-Perdition peered through his scope from a concealed position on a rooftop overlooking the New Megiddo City Divinity Center. That was the name given to the remade Capital Mall after the dissolution of the United States of America. Hades had been here before: the Ministry of State Security. He had walked these grounds when he had undergone training to be a Ranger. The former life he once led seemed like a lifetime ago. He had started his career a nobody in New Megiddo City, now he returned a seasoned warrior, to tear it all down. Hades remembered the dank and dingy sub-basement that served as the L.O.V.E. headquarters. He laughed to himself at how appropriate it was for such a despicable organization to be sequestered to the bowels of a government building.

  From what he could glean through the scope the building was lightly-defended, but he had no way to tell what laid in wait within the M.O.S.S. building. Hades lined up his sights on targets stationed outside the building: two Rangers. He took both shots in rapid succession, each, deadly headshots. Both men probably had felt nothing. Hades-perdition picked up his gear and descended to the street level via a series of rooftops and fire escapes. He moved to the entrance of the M.O.S.S. building. He stashed his M82 inside a hedge in front of the building, then he picked up one of the dead Ranger’s submachine gun. It was a custom made model for Ranger forces: all compact, black and modified out. The irony did not escape him that the weapon was manufactured by Wynham Industries, and yet, it was Graham Wynham who set this whole insurrection into motion. Hades figured it would be more appropriate for close-quarters fighting, which he was sure he would be up to his ears in, briefly. Hades tactically-cleared the lobby of the M.O.S.S. sky-tower. He then proceeded into the core of the structure where the elevator shafts were located. He approached one of many elevator doors, and he could see that they were all occupied. The digital screens all displayed sub-basement levels, and all elevators were ascending in synchronism: to the ground level. Hades deemed this to be more than mere coincidence. He ran back toward the lobby and took cover behind a marble pillar, awaiting the onslaught that would spill out from the depths.

  Within seconds of each other, the “dings” sounded and the elevator doors opened. Ranger after Ranger flooded out like so many army ants. And as instinct kicked in, Hades began to systematically identify the most significant threats first and eliminated them. He stepped out and fired off controlled bursts from the submachine. The measured shots met their marks, and yet the confused Rangers kept coming. They did not know how many enemies they were dealing with. One Ranger guessed correctly that the fire came from the lobby, so he detached a grenade from his vest, pulled the pin, and chucked it toward the lobby. The grenade bounced and slid on the slick marble floor. As it came his direction, Hades charged toward the Rangers who had recoiled to cover: anticipating the detonation.

  The first Ranger was startled to find the silent Apostate right next to him. He had just enough time to realize this was the last site that he would see in the world before he was riddled with three shots from Hades’s gun. The grenade exploded, sending an ever-expanding ball of fire through the lobby. Hades took this opportunity to dispose of yet more Rangers, who were hunkered down taking refuge from the blast. When he ran out of ammunition he threw the submachine gun aside and brought his claymore to the ready position. A Ranger popped out from cover with guns blazing. Hades quickly took refuge behind an outcrop, which he shared with the body of a deceased Ranger, with an unspent grenade attached to its armor. Hades made use of it, when he tossed the grenade down the corridor towards the remaining three Rangers who were behind cover.

  “Incoming!” Hades heard. This action was followed by the three Rangers fleeing from the live grenade toward Hades. Picking up the side arm from the deceased Ranger, he let off three quick shots. Two struck one of the Rangers, dead. The third shot disarmed the second Ranger. Hades followed up by finding the side gap in the injured Ranger’s armor, he drove his sword deep into the man’s core, with extra force by gripping his sword blade with one hand. The grenade detonated down the hall, sending flying shrapnel into the back of the third Ranger, but the man was unhurt due to his armored cuirass. However, it provided enough of a distraction for Hades to close the distance to dispatch the Ranger with a draw cut across the man’s exposed neck.

  With that, the way to the elevator was clear. Hades was now unobstructed to access the lower levels of the M.O.S.S. building. He anticipated the final confrontation with Inquisitor Rodrigo; just minutes away. He had been waiting for this minute for years. Sometimes it even kept him awake at night with dreams of retribution so real, that he could taste the Inquisitor’s blood in his mouth. Despite all of Hades skill, confidence, and experience, he had doubts that he would walk away from this fight alive. The Inquisitor’s skill, cunning, cruelty and martial prowess were legendary.

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  The L.O.V.E. doctor had prepared for the extraction operation when the M.O.S.S. building had come under attack. The emergency lock-down announcement played on repeat throughout the L.O.V.E. headquarters. The doctor wiped the sweat from his male-pattern, bald head. He could not decide what he was more afraid of, being killed in an Apostate attack or suffering the Inquisi
tor’s wrath for not completing the operation. The operation, of course, was the extraction of Graham Wynham’s neural implant. Now he was at a crossroads: he could flee for his life or surrender to the whoever was attacking the sky-tower. But, what if the assailants lost and the Inquisitor returned to find that the doctor had shirked his responsibility? The consequences would truly be horrendous. He knew first hand what happened to the subjects of the Inquisitor’s interrogations.

  The Regime doctor buried his face in his hands and sobbed uncontrollably. All the while, Graham’s comatose body laid on the operating table with his head fitted inside the extraction machine. All the doctor need do was to start the machine and guide the mechanized arms to begin the surgery, but he was petrified into indecision. Before long he heard the sounds of running and yelling in the corridor outside the operating room. It jarred the doctor out of his weeping. The sound of gunfire and physical struggle made the doctor flinch in fear. He ducked behind the gurney that supported Graham Wynham. The sounds of dying men filled the exterior corridor; then silence. The doctor peeked his head out from behind the gurney. He wondered if the nightmare was over. An overwhelming feeling of relief and elation washed over him.

  Then, the doctor soiled himself when the O.R. door was kicked open by Hades-Perdition. He truly did look like something that crawled up from Hell. Hades had blood spattered across his face, his ballistic armor was dented with bullet impacts, and his sword had been coated with the blood of enemies. Hades gazed around the room, then fixated his stare upon the doctor with the soiled drawers.

  “Please! No! Please, don’t kill me—for the love of god!” The smelly doctor recoiled in fear.

  “Get a hold of yourself! Remove Graham Wynham from of that machine!” Hades demanded.

  “Yes, yes! Anything—please don’t kill me!” The doctor fumbled over to the extraction machine, shaken visibly. He was fidgeting with the straps that fastened Graham’s head into the machine.