*
An hour later -and an hour closer to the deadline- the tunnel abruptly stopped. It ended in the same way it began: a large hole leading to the surface. Barsch was so eager to escape the fetid tunnel that he did not even look to see where it let out, but when he eventually did, he was pleasantly surprised.
The tunnel let out on one side of a large plaza, and at the other side lay the endpoint of their journey: The Emdell-Tyson General Hospital. The crumbling exterior and gaping hole in the south wing did little to boost Barsch’s confidence, but the building looked mostly intact. And, aside from a few abandoned vehicles and scattered rubble, the way was clear.
With the exception of the solitary re-mech standing guard outside the main entrance.
It looked unnervingly similar to Erebus, but there were some cosmetic and physical differences. It stood at roughly seven feet tall, with a stylised yellow and black paint job. It was a humanoid model, with long slender limbs that nevertheless looked capable of crushing anything between its massive four-fingered hands. The angular head had apparently been designed to emphasize function over form, evidenced by its almost featureless faceplate. The smooth black metal contained only a slotted speaker grill set below a pair of golden ‘eyes’. It had a faded emblem on its right shoulder, which looked like two slivers of red forming an overlapping ‘V’ but its original shape had been washed away by time. It did not appear to have noticed them, as its eyes were still sweeping the area in a precise fashion.
Crouching down behind an overturned vehicle, Barsch whispered to Kingston, “What do you think we should do? I doubt that thing will let us enter a building that’s about to collapse.”
“I agree. Well, the way I see it, we have three options. One, destroy it.”
From the look on Kingston’s face, the old man had no desire to witness another re-mech’s death, “Two, turn around and walk away.”
Again, Barsch could easily tell that Kingston would never retreat after coming so close, “Or three, try and sneak past it.”
Alza, by comparison, had already stopped listening after the first option had been revealed, and was most likely thinking of different combat scenarios.
“So, obviously one and two are no good,” Kingston said, in a voice loud enough for Alza to overhear, “Which leaves us with three…”
“Do you think we can pull it off? Aren’t re-mechs supposed to have a ton of sensors to detect… well, everything?”
“That’s true, but they aren’t omniscient. And I have fought alongside models like that before, so I should be able to gauge its ranges fairly well.”
Barsch had no further questions, and Alza had never had any to begin with; so they left the safety of their cover and followed Kingston into the plaza. The old hermit led them from vehicle to vehicle, constantly peeking over the rusted metal exteriors to check on the ever vigilant re-mech. To Barsch, every sound they made was deafening, and by the time he had accidentally kicked his third rock, his nerves were near-shot.
It was disconcerting how much better he fared when the obstacle was right in front of him, than when he was forced to sneak around it. Adding to this nervousness was how annoyingly composed his comrades were. Alza had long since perfected the dead-pan look, and Barsch was convinced that he would never see anything else on her pretty face, but even Kingston wore a mask of serenity. It may have been decades since the South Wars, but apparently the old hermit still remembered his training.
After ten tense minutes, they came within reach of the main entrance. The broken glass doors lay only a handful of feet away, and through them lay everything Barsch desired: safety, rest and Kingston’s medicine.
Time had already felt stretched out, but as they neared their destination, it ground to a halt. Every step took days, and his breaths seemed to last years. The world had become dead quiet, the only sound for miles around was Barsch’s furiously beating heart.
But luck is never fair, and without their knowledge, most of theirs had been used up several days prior. Thus they had only a handful left for the dangerous city, and now even this small amount was gone.
Of course, the universe could not tell them this directly, so instead it sent a message saying, “Warning. Solar Staff battery levels critical. Please recharge before next usage. End of message.”
Time was still moving at a crawl, giving Barsch’s mind enough time to decode the strange message. It had come from Kingston’s pack, where he knew the old man’s solar staff still lay. The long trip through the tunnels must have drained what little power it had left, and it had decided to tell them this at the worst possible moment.
A few feet ahead of him, Alza stood frozen, one hand already resting on the door’s steel frame. They had been so close, but they had been foolish, thinking that anything would finally go well for them. Kingston, standing behind Barsch, had turned a pale shade of grey, most likely from the shock of his mistake, which might have doomed them all. Strangely, his right hand was on his chest, above the heart, in a gesture that Barsch did not understand.
If there was any illusion that the re-mech had not heard them, it was broken the moment a mechanical voice call out, “Humans detected trying to enter level-1 danger zone. Analysing chance of incurring fatal injuries… analysing… analysis complete. Chance is one in three. Activating Straitjacket protocol. Removing humans to nearest level-9 safety zone. Forced removal authorized. Engaging primary and secondary offensive programs. Calibrating bionics sensor. Releasing non-lethal munitions lock. Restricting handling strength to twenty-five percent. Correlating threat levels… threat levels minimal. Engaging all active targets.”
After announcing its intentions, the re-mech took a step towards Barsch, four-fingered hand reaching for his brittle frame. And while the rest of the world had re-entered the time stream, Barsch felt as if he alone were still frozen. His arms refused to move, and his legs were only kept from buckling by coincidence. The re-mech filled his vision, and he could do nothing but stare down the titan. He was a fool, thinking that a stolen blade and some amateur lumber jacking had made him a warrior. Against a real foe… against a seven-foot tall titan, he was powerless.
“I knew we should have gone with option one,” said Alza, a few feet away. Unlike Barsch, she was not struck with fear, as that would imply that she could feel fear, an emotion she clearly lacked. The strange look in her eyes suggested that Barsch should immediately get out of her way, but his cowardly legs refused to budge. Instead, she stepped past him, and in that short instant, Barsch caught a sight of her eyes. They were shining from within, as if a supernova had taken place in her mind and now shone out into the world.
“Threat level minimal? I disagree,” she said, whilst extending her right arm towards the confused giant. A wave of déjà vu swept over Barsch as the re-mech was lifted into the air.
“It’s going to happen again! You have to stop her!” his conscience screamed, but his body was still on strike, and the message never reached his limbs. In the meantime, Alza had lifted the re-mech higher, and its dangling legs were flailing through open air. And although Barsch knew that all re-mechs had emotion engine limiters to prevent them from experiencing true emotions, a very real sense of fear was emanating from the re-mech.
What happened next did not conform with Barsch’s sense of déjà vu, but it was horrific nonetheless. Instead of throwing the pitiful re-mech, Alza closed her extended hand, forming a fist. In response, the re-mech’s body gave off a loud, metallic scraping noise. Deafened by the horrific sound, Barsch could only watch as Alza began to crush the re-mech. Its long, slender limbs folded unnaturally tight against its thick body, and dozens of small cracks appeared on its breastplate, widening as they spiralled towards its core. There was no more doubt in his heart: the re-mech was terrified beyond all reason.
In his mind, the coward within him tried to argue that it was only a machine, albeit a machine with simulated emotions and a personality, but a machine all the same. But at that moment,
all he could see was the pain in the re-mech’s golden eyes, and hear the sounds of its body being ripped apart. It wasn’t a machine… but Alza would not stop until it was destroyed. Until she had killed it.
It was this thought that drove him to his feet, despite his fear-frozen limbs. The sight of the re-mech in simulated agony, combined with Alza’s blank expression gave him the courage he needed to act.
“Alza, stop it!” he screamed, before tackling her to the ground.
They lay there in suspended disbelief: Barsch, eyes shut tight, and Alza, not moving. A heartbeat later, and Barsch realised what he had done, and involuntarily braced himself for her terrible retribution. He had never got in her way before, and in doing so, had he inherited the re-mech’s fate? But as the seconds dragged on, and no punishment materialised, Barsch began to relax. Unfortunately, this period of peace was broken prematurely by a loud crash. The re-mech, no longer held up by Alza, had finally re-acquired the absolute attention of gravity.
Barsch, limbs still attached, had barely begun to register the noise when another was immediately heard. It was Alza, still trapped beneath him, saying, in an impossibly quiet voice, "Fine. I understand. I won't destroy it. Now get off me."
Hearing Alza speak in such a feeble tone -a previously unheard of occurrence- left Barsch temporarily dazed, before he finally managed to collect his wits. He hastily jumped up; offering his hand to Alza in what he hoped was a gentlemanly manner. She ignored the gesture, rising under her own power.
Her face was still blank, but he knew that she was displeased with being interrupted. He was about to apologise when she opened her mouth and said, “Something is wrong.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, dumbfounded by the unexpectedness of her statement.
“The old one has been silent for far too long.”
She was right, Barsch had not heard so much as a whimper out of Kingston since the re-mech had discovered them. In fact, part of his delay in stopping Alza was the assumption that the old man would beat him to it. Immediately, the fear that he had only just lost reappeared, and he began searching the plaza for his missing friend. Less than ten seconds later, he found him, and his blood ran cold.
There, lying face down on the hard cement, still as a corpse, was Kingston.
“KINGSTON!” he screamed, running towards his friend.
But there was no response, no indication at all that the old man was still alive. Skidding to a stop, he knelt beside the lifeless body, trying to remember the first aid lesson his father had given him two and a half decades ago. He felt the tears form as he brought his head to Kingston’s chest, praying to every god he could think of.
Silence. The sound which lasted a lifetime, the beat which brought life, was gone. Kingston’s heart had stopped.
“No! NO! Kingston! Please, don’t die…” he cried, tears choking his words. The stress of entering the city, weeks without his medicine, and the shock of being discovered… a lethal combination for an old man clinging to life…
“No! This can’t be happening! Not when we’re so close! Not after all we’ve been through! Dammit Barsch, think! We’ve seen this before, haven’t we? A week ago we were in the exact same situation, except I was the one on the ground. How did I come back?”
“I need electricity…” he whispered, as his memory gave him the answer.
“Back then, my heart stopped due to the pollution, but the electricity from Kingston’s fence gave me a jump-start. I just need to do the same for him… I just need to restart his heart!”
But Kingston was dying, and the city was massive. He would never find the right equipment in time. If only there were a source of electricity nearby…
Barsch’s desperate thoughts were interrupted by a glimmer of light, coming from Kingston’s half-open pack. The old man must have been digging through it when his heart stopped. What had he been looking for?
“The same thing that caused his heart attack in the first place: his solar staff.”
Moments later, he found the traitorous cylinder and removed it from the pack. It was almost ironic, that the device was the only thing that could save Kingston’s life. He quickly exposed Kingston’s muscular chest and placed one end of the retracted staff above his heart. There was no time for thought, no time for second guesses. Whispering another prayer, he slid his hand down the cylinder and pressed one of the concealed buttons, sending over a thousand volts into Kingston’s limp body.
Or at least, that’s what should have happened. In reality, the staff gave a feeble whirr and produced a few sparks, which dissipated almost immediately. A second later, the same message which had brought calamity was replayed.
“Warning. Solar Staff battery levels critical. Please recharge before next usage. End of message.”
In his haste, Barsch had forgotten the depleted battery, and with it empty, Kingston’s last hope was gone.
“Damn it! This should have worked!” he cried, feeling his earlier hopelessness return.
“Here,” came Alza’s detached voice. She too had been forgotten during the commotion, and was now standing by his side, a familiar object clutched in her hand. It was the silver bracelet that Kingston had given her, all those days ago. “I believe that this has some sort of charge. You may use it.”
Perplexed, he took it from her, feeling its surprising weight for its small size. Now that he held it, he could tell that it was not a simple piece of jewellery. This was confirmed when he turned it over, and read the small inscription on the inner band.
“MARK XI ANTI-PERSONNEL FIELD GENERATOR. HANDLE WITH CARE.” At that moment, he wanted to laugh out loud. Despite all of Kingston’s reservations about Alza, he had always had her safety in mind, from the very beginning. And from what his father had told him about the device in his hand, it would have more than enough power to save Kingston. All he needed to do was get that power to the old man’s heart…
Luckily, while he was staring at the bracelet, a flash of inspiration came to him. He looped the metallic bracelet around one end of the solar staff, and then said, “Activate Mark XI Anti-Personnel Field Generator and conform to nearest shape.” A half-second later, the voice activated bangle complied with his request, shrinking down until it was tightly wrapped around the foot-long cylinder. He had no idea if what he was trying was even possible, or if it could back-fire and kill him, but at that point he no longer cared. His friend was dying, and he would do anything to save him.
“Mark XI Anti-Personnel Field Generator, set field intensity to maximum and direct all output into nearest conductive surface. Disable all safety protocols and feedback loop inhibitors.” There was nothing left to do, except hold the solar staff firm against Kingston’s chest and scream, “Discharge!”
This time, everything happened at once. Burning pain spread up Barsch’s arms as the bracelet powered up and sent several thousand volts into the surrounding atmosphere. Most of the electricity flowed into the staff and was channelled to Kingston, but several large sparks sunk into Barsch’s exposed flesh. Other, smaller sparks arced away and sought out conductors in the environment. The pain rose as more of the charge was emitted, and Barsch could feel the skin on his arms burn, but he refused to let go. Kingston was still immobile, and he would hold on, even if it killed him.
Seconds passed, feeling like hours, and it took everything he had to keep holding on. His mind was on fire, which mirrored the several small fires that had broken out on his clothing. He was dimly aware of Alza crouching nearby, safe from the erratic sparks.
“Through… fire… through fire… the world is on fire! Please, just let it end!”
The pain was too much. His vision was growing dim. With a cry of frustration, Barsch let go, and the agony at last came to an end.
Awakening Page 59