The Last Champion: Book 4 of The Last War Series

by Nick Webb

  From the adjacent cell, Lily spoke. “See? Friend.”

  “Yes. Friend,” repeated Mattis. He looked up at the mutant, into its green and black eyes. “Now. Please tell me what I need to know.”

  And then, seemingly miraculously, in perfect, unbroken English, it started.

  “Some of us call him The Overseer. Some call him The Scourge. But most call him their Lord and Master. He is Legion. No one knows how many he is. But, from our history, we know what he did to become the ruler and master of all humanity forevermore.”

  Legion. Specter himself used that word. The mutant had stopped, as if unsure or possibly scared to continue, as if even talking about Specter were a forbidden subject. “Go on,” coaxed Mattis.

  “We know that in our distant past—your recent past—the single man known as Spectre had labs. A large, well-funded corporation. He experimented. He had funding from many major world governments. And he provided them with … weapons. Bioweapons. But the governments didn’t know that, in secret, he was planning to overthrow all nations. Rule himself.

  “He created superhumans. Experimented with DNA and human biology to create,” he paused, and pointed to the adjacent cell, “her. And her kind became … Us.”

  Mattis began to understand. “So Spectre learned enough about DNA to create a new race of superhumans with which he could overthrow all world governments. But why didn’t he just do that?”

  The creature shook his head again. “He couldn’t control her kind. He needed control, and he couldn’t have it. He couldn’t figure it out. So much latent, inactive DNA in your genome that when he tried one thing, some other newly activated hormonal process would interrupt the control process and foil his efforts. So he realized he needed a vast library of human DNA to sift through and root out the sequences responsible for his inability to control a human mind. He used his influence to convince the governments to create the libraries for him.”

  Mattis’s heart turned to ice. “The seed banks. The ones we made in case there was ever a civilizational catastrophe that would require an infusion of diverse DNA into a limited gene pool, in case our numbers ever fell enough threaten our survival as a species.” Mattis nodded in understanding, finally realizing how the various world governments ever managed to come together to complete such a monumental task: they had Spectre in the background, pulling strings and manipulating affairs to make it happen.

  “But wait … your kind came back to my time, the present, and tried to destroy those seed banks,” said Mattis. “You tried to stop him before he even got started. So you’re not all controlled by him in the future?”

  Another head shake. “Some have broken free. We have discovered how to resist the voice.” It pointed to its head. “The voice inside that commands us. It’s still there. Always speaking, always commanding, screaming at us when we disobey. But we’ve learned to suppress it. To ignore it. There are many of us. But … not enough.” It, he, looked sad.

  “So, you came back and tried to destroy the seed banks. But it didn’t work. You didn’t destroy all of them. And Specter succeeded anyway.”

  He looked even more somber. “Yes. And succeeded … because of us.” He looked positively pained at having to say it. “We enabled him to succeed by coming back to stop him.”

  “Oh my God,” said Mattis. “I’m sure Modi would have a field day with a time-travel paradox like this, but … oh my God. What did he do? Explain.” A pause. Then—“please,” he added.

  “He captured several of us. Dissected them piece by piece, organ by organ, protein by protein, and finally discovered how to control us. Remotely. Electronically. He didn’t need the seed banks after all. He needed us.”

  Of course. He remembered all too clearly how Spectre practically waltzed onto that Avenir vessel in the Chrysalis system and took control of it. And Mattis was forced to sacrifice the Midway to beat him.

  But he didn’t beat him. He was, as the mutant said, Legion.

  “So you sent back even more ships to destroy him, and before you could, he captured one of your ships. And that’s the battle where I … where I destroyed dozens of your ships, along with Spectre. The battle that you yourself survived in that escape pod.”

  “Yes.” The mutant said it matter-of-factly, as if it was confirming the weather. “Yes, you killed many that day. And Spectre. But by then, he was already Legion.”

  A chill went down Mattis’s spine. A legion of Spectres. Already. In his own time, not just in the future.

  Another chilling thought struck him. “And … he could be anyone. Anywhere. Since he was Jeremy Pitt, he could be anyone. All he needs to do is clone a body, insert one of his own cloned brains into it, and use the control technology he developed by studying you to essentially control an army of … himself?”

  The mutant nodded. “Yes. And, in our history books, it worked. In three month’s time, his conquest of humanity will be complete.”

  Three months. So he had less than three months to track down Spectre, all of him, and stop him for good.

  “And the Chinese engines? The ones that apparently have the ability to open a time rift just like your ships from the future? How the hell did those bastards get that tech? It got put on the Midway before it blew, and now the Stennis.”

  The mutant hesitated. “I … I don’t know. Our history is incomplete. And this particular item …” the mutant’s eyes flicked back and forth rapidly as if reading massive amounts of data scrolling invisibly past his face, “this item is missing from our history logs. The registry shows that there was an entry regarding this, long ago, but … it’s wiped clean. I can’t explain it.”

  Fine. Mystery for another day, he thought. “But what about the kids? What about my Jack? Why steal them and take them into the future?”

  A shadow passed over the mutant’s face. “Every general needs lieutenants. He will go to a safe place in the future, raise them, corrupt them, transform them, clone them, thousands of times over, and then,” the mutant looked down, “he will return. A core group of Spectres, at the head of an army of these corrupted beings.”

  “My God. Jack.” Mattis held a hand to his mouth. He felt like vomiting. His little Jack, transformed into a twisted lieutenant of Spectre, cloned, and used to do … terrible, unspeakable things. “And he did it? It worked? In your past?”

  “Yes. And your grandson, the one you call Jack, was corrupted into the lieutenant who was … the cruelest of all.”

  His heart sank further, if possible. “So if it’s already happened for you, it’s inevitable then. I’ve failed.”

  It was staring at him again. “No. Admiral Mattis, that is not how time works.”

  Mattis looked up at him. “Are you saying…?”

  “You still have time.” The mutant stepped past him and approached Lily’s cell, pointing toward it and looking back at Mattis.

  At Mattis’s word, her cell opened too. Lily stepped out, a smile on her face. “I help.”

  The future-human mutant nodded. “I will help too.”

  “Good. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” And with that, Mattis ran out the door, the two lumbering mutants in tow. “We’re coming, Jack.”

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Shuttle Bay

  USS Warrior

  Gas Giant Erebus

  Vellini System

  Tiberius Sector

  As Mattis and his mutants boarded the shuttle with the rest of the Rhinos and regular ole’ Marines—all of them staring at the creatures following him—a polite cough from behind caught his attention.

  A small gaggle of people were there waiting. Lynch, dressed as Mattis was, with a battle rifle and space suit; Bratta and Modi, wearing an assortment of strange equipment he presumed to be sensors and weapons; and a small handful of emergency personnel from the Stennis, carrying either medic packs or pistols.

  “What’s all this?” asked Mattis, curiously.

  “Well sir,” said Lynch, grinning like a cat. “The dang thing i
s, a lot of people have heard that the future-humans are out fixin’ to steal babies, and they have Chuck’s kid. Well, sir, with the greatest respect, you are more than a couple of sandwiches shy of a picnic if they think people like me are going to stand by and let that happen while I got two hands and a gun.”

  Mattis wanted to protest. To order them all back, to tell them to stay safe and mind their own business and let him rescue his son and grandson and be the hero and get the job done. Instead, “I see” was all he said.

  Lynch put a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t do it all yourself, Jack. You’re a goddamn hero. But you’re not a goddamn god.”

  He couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Lynch was right. He needed help. And he had the best help there that he could have wished for. “And Modi? Mister Bratta?”

  “I have a thing,” said Bratta, holding up a small tube crudely tied to a box obviously welded shut. Jutting out from the thing at strange, random intervals were a variety of sensor modules and electronic components. “And I want to test it.”

  Mattis regarded the homemade device with a curious eye. “What is it?”

  “An interesting device of my own creation,” he said, preening just a little. “A combination of drones and firearms, but a bit improved, if I do say so myself. You see, each dart is actually a tiny drone, so it can be fired around corners and seek out targets based on a single brief acquisition. When found, it injects them with a fentanyl derivative which, in short order, renders them unconscious. The science behind it is very intriguing. It uses a combination of image recognition cameras, scent-tracking sensors and olfactory-focused computers that can track even an Avenir by smell. Furthermore—”

  Mattis held up his hand. “Right. It’s a fancy tranquilizer gun. Modi?”

  “There is nothing further I can do aboard ship,” said Modi. “And I would like to accompany Mister Bratta as he experiments. And I can’t bear the thought of you fighting over there for all of us, all alone.”

  “The robot has a soul after all!” said Lynch, then, gesturing behind him, “the damage to the Warrior is largely contained now. Ain’t no harm in letting these two play Q. Hell, we could use the help, to be perfectly frank.”

  Settled, then. Mattis jabbed a finger at each group in turn. “Modi, Bratta: that thing you’re talking about. Just what we need. Recover our… lost pilot with it. Lieutenant Corrick. Alive, please. We need to interrogate her and figure out what the hell they did to her. And how to counter it in the future.”

  “Yes sir,” said Modi.

  “Commander Lynch, Spectre is opening another of those portals, this one running a lot slower than the one at Lyx, probably because Stennis’s engines aren’t quite as advanced as the Avenir ship’s were. Get to the Navigational array on the hull. If this is the same technology as the other ones, they’ll be using its radar dish to guide whatever energy pattern they’re generating. Shut it down if you can, blow it up if you have to.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” said Lynch.

  Mattis stepped up the shuttle’s loading ramp, nodding to all present inside. “Marines, find the kids. Get them all back here. And find any Stennis crew still alive and bring them with you.”

  “Aye sir!”

  Sampson, her Rhino suit squeaking slightly as she leaned against a similarly-clad Cho, squeezed into the shuttle, barely fitting. She had her damn rocket launcher too. “What about the Rhinos?”

  Mattis smiled grimly. “Simple task: locate Commander Pitt, aka Spectre, and shoot him in the face. Repeatedly. And feel free to slice and dice your way through any of Spectre's people that undoubtedly have come over from that docked Avenir ship. Forgotten or no, take them all out. ”

  That seemed to make her very happy. “Aye sir,” she said.

  A voice called out from the bay doors. “Actually, Admiral, I’d like the honor of shooting that fucker in the face.”

  Mattis turned to the doors, semi-shocked to see Senator Pitt standing there, cradling a small firearm in his hands. “Senator? I’m sorry, but this is no place for a politician.”

  “Admiral. Please. I need this. And I’m not a senator anymore. I transmitted my resignation just minutes ago. Just a private citizen here who wants to shoot the monster who did this to my son, right in the face. Repeatedly, as you said.” A haggard smile.

  John Smith, the CIA officer standing next to Reardon, raised a finger. “And I’ll accompany him, Admiral. Before he dies, I need to interrogate that bastard. There’s one piece to the puzzle I’m missing.” He nodded toward the former senator. “Then you can shoot him in the face. Repeatedly.”

  No more time to discuss things. “Fine. Join the party. Don’t blame me if you die.” The gaggle boarded the Aerostar. Mattis squeezed in between his two new mutant friends, one from the future, one from the present.

  The kid in the wheelchair, piloting the ship with one hand, grabbed the comm with his other. “This is your captain speaking. Thank you for choosing the Aerostar. We know you have choices when you travel, and are grateful for choosing us. Please fasten your safety belts and put all tray tables in their full upright and locked positions. In the event of a water landing—”

  Reardon smacked the back of his head. “Fly the ship, dumbass.”

  Then they set off to the Stennis, the Aerostar drifting through the Warrior’s hangar bay doors, silent and swift. It banked down towards an area of space where the nebula gas looked as pink as the Aerostar herself. “Engaging electromagnetic dampening coating,” said Reardon. After he flipped a switch, the pilot banked the ship around gracefully and pointed straight at the Stennis, whose radar dish in the navigational array had erupted a beautiful but deadly red shimmering beam that was drilling down into the swirling dark atmosphere of Erebus, slowly generating a portal where, if they didn’t act quickly, Spectre would escape to and prepare his army. And in three months, he would return. And conquer Earth.

  Lily, the mutant made in a Maxgainz lab, cautiously raised a hand. “Help? How?”

  Mattis had no idea. “Just fill in as needed,” he offered. That seemed to satisfy her, and the other mutant, the future-human, nodded as well.

  “What about you?” asked Lynch, curiously. “Want to tag-team that portal with me and blast it to smithereens?”

  “No,” said Mattis, staring out a porthole, feeling a surge of adrenaline that banished the aching in his shoulder. “I’m going to get my son.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Shuttle bay

  USS Stennis

  Gas Giant Erebus

  Vellini System

  Tiberius Sector

  Mattis held tight as the Aerostar banked back and forth as it shot towards the Stennis’s shuttle bay. It was clear that someone on the Stennis knew they were coming, and was trying to shoot at them, but they couldn’t get a weapons lock and they clearly couldn’t aim fast enough to actually hit them.

  “Thread the needle, little bro!” called out Reardon from his seat, holding on for dear life. Someone vomited nearby, and Mattis saw former Senator Pitt to his right with a lap full of his stomach contents.

  “Protein bar,” said Lily.

  “Trust me, honey, you don’t want that one,” said Reardon with a grin.

  They flew through the opening to the shuttle bay, landed hard, rammed into a small group of Spectre’s goons who were firing at them, smeared them all across the deck, and came to a screeching halt on the far side of the bay near the doors that led into the ship.

  “That was what we call a wet landing,” said Reardon brightly, looking back at the trail of blood and parts they’d left on the deck.

  “All right, move!” yelled Mattis, and everyone streamed out of the Aerostar.

  Once through the shuttle bay doors and in the hallway outside, they split up for their assignments. The Marines rushed down the hallway toward the stern, with Cho at the lead, mowing down any Jovian Logistics security guards or Forgotten they came across.

  Sampson turned toward the bridge at the ship’s
core, her rocket launcher fully loaded and two other Rhinos in tow, with Senator Pitt and Smith following close behind. Modi and Bratta chattered amongst themselves, seemingly oblivious to the danger that surrounded them, more concerned with the technological marvel in their hands than with the frantic boarding surrounding them. Lynch went looking for an airlock to get outside. .

  And Mattis marched toward the bow, rifle comfortably in both hands, where Reardon’s tracking device had indicated that Chuck was being held,. Lily marched behind him with a few Marines. He couldn’t see where the other mutant had gone.

  It seemed that most of the Stennis crew had already evacuated, as they came across only a few members here and there, hiding from Spectre's people—Jovian Logistics guards and a few Forgotten members—that had come over from the Avenir ship. But the Marines and Mattis’s own assault rifle made quick work of them. Lily roared ahead to distract any defenders while Mattis and the Marines picked them off.

  Someone ran out in front of him. He raised his rifle instinctively, lowering it when he realized it was a human. A woman in her mid-twenties with short cropped hair, wearing a pilot’s uniform.

  “Lieutenant Corrick?” he asked curiously, keeping his weapon quick to hand.

  The pilot stared dumbfounded at him. “Who’s that?”

  No, she didn’t match Corrick’s description. “Never mind. Get to the shuttle bay. The way should be clear behind us,” he yelled, thumbing back down the hallway.

  She took off down the hall, pausing when he called back to her. “Have you seen any babies around here? Infants?”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding vaguely. “Yeah. I think they’re being held in sickbay. Heavily guarded.”

  Right. “Go,” he said.

  She thanked him with her eyes, and ran off.

  Mattis turned and walked deeper into the ship, frowning slightly as he did so. “Yeah, well, this was the easy part, apparently. Sickbay’s gonna suck.” He glanced at his accompanying Marines. “Lots of civvies there. And apparently lots of enemy combatants.” He motioned them forward. “Make every shot count.”