*
A few minutes later, Barsch called to Maloch and Kingston, calling them inside to eat. When they entered, they seemed to avoid meeting Barsch’s eyes, as if they thought that he could somehow tell what had been said about him. As for Alza, she came just close enough to grab a bowl, before retreating to her isolated corner. Barsch, oblivious to what had been said about him and slightly happy over his conversation with Alza, ate with a smile on his face. After they had eaten and locked the door, they bade each other good night -except for Alza, who fell asleep while still sitting upright in her corner- and crawled into bed.
That night, not a single dream was dreamt, as if the gods, or some guardian spirit, had decided that they needed a moment of peaceful rest, before the harrowing days that were to come. The next morning –Barsch hoped that it was morning, but could not be sure- they awoke refreshed and re-energized. When Barsch stood, he did not feel the expected ache in his legs, but rather, he felt stronger than ever. Just this fact alone was enough to give him hope for the long walk ahead. Even Alza seemed less cold, but as always, it was a barely noticeable change.
After restoring the room to its original state, they bade it farewell, and continued their journey. Seeing as the corridors had completely failed to become interesting or colourful, Barsch allowed his brain to switch off, as the miles of bland panelling became a continuous grey swatch of background. After a few hours of monotonous walking, they thankfully came to a hub room. It was similar to what they had seen in the past: a square room with exits leading off in every direction, with a uninteresting table in the centre, atop which sat another crudely drawn map.
Unlike the others, however, this map offered a wealth of information. Despite not showing much, it was the edge of the map which interested the group: it was blank. Not blank because of laziness or ignorance, as Kingston suspected, but blank because what lay in the unknown was not worth mapping. Another clue came in the form of a scribbled handwritten note at the edge of the filled in area, which read, “CAUTION, ROCK SLIDES AND CAVE-INS FREQUENT PAST HERE. RECOMMEND BOARDING UP TO PREVENT ACCESS.”
It was not a definite exit to the cave system, but it was the best and most likely chance they had. Tracing a finger on the rough map, Barsch mentally drew a route to the blank area, noting that two more sub-stations lay in their path to freedom. Showing the others, he said, “Two more rooms, and two more chances for Guardian to attack us... what should we do, Kingston?”
The old hermit bent over the map, most likely searching for more secure routes, but eventually gave up and said, “We head forward, slow and steady. If Guardian tries anything, we’ll be ready.”
After mentally storing the route in his head, Barsch followed after the others, who had already left the room of renewed hope. Beyond the door was yet more lifeless corridors, but somehow, they seemed lighter, perhaps due to the knowledge that they led now to freedom. An hour later, they reached the first sub-station, which was identified as, “CRYOGEN GAS STORAGE” by a simple plaque above the steel door. It was sealed when they arrived, but soon relented under Maloch’s digital lock-picking.
Inside the room was unlike anything Barsch had ever seen: a large chamber filled to the brim with massive white-grey cylinders, which were studded with valves and hoses, allowing access to the sub-zero liquid helium-3 contained within. The walls were covered with frost, and a row of computers on the far wall sent a constant stream of diagnostic information. Nestled amongst two giant tanks, a small hatch led to the only other exit from the room.
“Seeing as you’ve had the most exposure to this stuff, why don’t you lead the way?” said Kingston, with a hand on Barsch’s shoulder and a wry grin on his face.
Barsch chuckled, surprised at the old man’s attempt at humour. With his hands already starting to go numb and his exposed face turning blue, Barsch could not wait to leave the freezing room far behind. Unfortunately, navigating through the room turned out to be trickier than he had imagined, mostly because the clutter created by the myriad hoses made for a very unstable floor. The vaporous fog hanging in the air did nothing to aid visibility, and above all, the worsening cold was making it increasingly hard to think. If he was watching, Guardian would not have to do a thing; he would just have to sit back and wait until frostbite sent them into the eternal sleep.
Taking a moment to catch his breath and try to bring some warmth back into his extremities, Barsch had a chance to see how the others were faring. Maloch, a machine built to withstand temperatures on both extremes, was patiently waiting for Barsch. Kingston -a man who had weathered more than one terrible winter, and whose days as a soldier had sent him to the frozen north- was similarly complacent. Alza, like Barsch, showed some early signs of frostbite; however, not one word of complaint escaped her lips.
With enough warmth back in his fingers to stave off frostbite for a few more minutes, Barsch continued forward. Almost immediately, his thawed digits were reclaimed by the cold, which felt like a dozen miniature needles piercing his flesh. The tangled rubber vines seemed to reach for his feet as he passed, looking for an opportunity to fell him like a piece of timber. Although it seemed as if no progress was being made, the exit was coming ever closer. A few more minutes of torturous scrambling over the sea of hoses saw Barsch within arm’s reach of the hatch. With the desire to leave the room and never look back burning in his mind, he reached out, eager to be warm once more.
“You almost made it,” said a cold, metallic voice from an unseen speaker.
“No...” It was all Barsch could say.
“I will admit, you surprised me in the Waterworks. Who would have thought that mere humans –the same species as my wonderful sleeping children- would have the tenacity to evade me? But that is all in the past now, and I have learnt my lesson. I was too lenient on you, using such a slow, painless method... Now I know better. And to think, I was going to do something truly awful to you! But then you went and took this path, and deprived me of the opportunity to finish you myself!”
“What are you talking about?” said Kingston, as Barsch and Maloch edged closer to the hatch.
“Well, once you stepped foot in this room, you basically committed suicide. Do you know how many programs it took to seal the room? One. One measly little order was all it took to trap you. I guess it’s true what they say: the simpler, the better. And don’t worry; I’ve already removed most of the cryogen gas to a secondary storage station, so my beloved children won’t suffer. And you should take comfort in the fact that your deaths will not be in vain! The flaws in my security system that you took advantage of are already being addressed... so, thanks for that.”
The hatch refused to give an inch, despite the combined might of Barsch and Maloch. In irritation, he asked, “Why can’t you just let us leave? We’re no threat to you or the humans here, so why do you want to stop us from leaving?”
There was no reply. Either Guardian had already turned his attention elsewhere, or he simply did not feel like answering. In either case, they were now trapped in what basically amounted to a giant cryogenic pod. If they could not escape in time, the very same gas which had sent all of humanity into a dreamless sleep would send them into an eternal one. And without the healing agents keeping them alive, they would literally freeze from the inside, as their cells froze on a molecular level.
“Okay, don’t panic, we’ve gotten out of worse situations, right? And just because I can’t feel my fingers anymore doesn’t mean that we’re in a big hurry.” Barsch’s nonchalance was obviously forced, but no one spoke out to correct him. Maloch already had a thick coating of ice over his alloyed chassis, making him look like a living snowman. Kingston was still trying to pry the hatch open, but it was clear that decades of freezing air and settling frost had frozen the bolts in place.
“Um... maybe there’s another way out? You never know with places like this,” said Barsch, knowing that it was a futile effort.
Nodding, Kingston asked, “Maloch, can you scan the ro
om for alternate exits?”
The frosted re-mech nodded and strode to the centre of the room. A few seconds later, his eyes changed from yellow to a light blue, signifying the start of his scan. He pivoted on the spot, his piercing eyes searching every inch of the room for anything that might help them escape. Barsch tensely held his breath, fervently hoping that the re-mech might discover a way to escape their predicament.
“I am sorry Kingston, I have failed to detect any alternative exits.” To his credit, the re-mech appeared to have emulated the emotion of shame perfectly.
“That’s okay, Maloch, it was a long shot to begin with. Now, let’s talk options. Maloch, can we break through the hatch?”
The re-mech, seemingly eager to make up for his earlier failure, hurried over to the hatch and began scanning it. When he was finished, he said, “It is a steel-titanium alloy designed to keep any gas from escaping. It has no holes or access panels, and the handle is on the other side. However, I believe that with enough time, I would be able to break through.”
“How long do you need?” asked Kingston, the glimmering of hope finally returning to his aged eyes.
“More time than you have. My sensors tell me that the temperature in this room is still decreasing, and that at the current rate, you will all have frozen to death long before I get through. If we had a way to raise the temperature, even just a few degrees, our chance for survival would increase exponentially.”
Barsch stepped forward, his memories of Maloch’s abilities probed for an answer. “Is there nothing that you can do? Can’t you use one of your gadgets to heat the air?”
The re-mech slowly shook his head, saying, “Breaking through the door will take every ounce of energy that I have. I could raise the temperature, but then I would not have the strength... well, I think you get the idea...”
Barsch knelt down and wrapped his arms around his numbed legs, trying to breathe some life into his frozen appendages. He could already feel the gas affecting his system, slowing his thoughts; making his head feel like wool. The urge to close his eyes and lie down was growing stronger with every passing second, and he feared that he would soon lose the will to resist. It was such a sweet temptation: embrace the urge, close your eyes, let the cold take you.
At the same time, Alza was struggling to concentrate. Sitting in the centre of the room, she tried to focus on the image of the flame; to make it real. It was not the first time she had tried to conjure fire from thin-air, but it was the most stressful. She could already feel her fingers stiffening, dying... and her vision beginning to cloud over. She had a hard enough time summoning the power that dwelt within her without having her own life to worry about.
Trying to clear her mind, she thought back to when she had first used her pyro kinesis. The memory swam into view, its spherical surface hazy with recollection. She saw herself, closing her eyes in what looked like prayer, while a floating ball of flame rose into existence before her.
“I can do it. I know I can. I just have to remember that feeling... of being filled with warmth, and then taking that warmth and pushing it out into reality. Breathe in the warmth, and exhale the flame. Picture it, filling me with heat and strength. Let it consume me, until I feel as if I can take no more. Let it swell and burst. Concentrate. Feel it. Breathe in the light. Concentrate on the sensation. Mould it. Let it fill me to breaking point. Concentrate on the pain of life. Hold it. Breathe out the flame.”
“Alza?” It was Barsch’s voice, changed by fear... and awe.
Still holding onto her thoughts, Alza opened her eyes. Floating a few feet off the ground, like a miniature sun, was a small ball of fire. It grew and shrunk, like a beating heart consumed by flames. The warmth had left her, but she could feel it, distantly, through the link she now shared with the fireball. Already, the numbness in her limbs was retreating, while her freed fingers extended outwards, towards the hovering ball.
Barsch stared in amazement, as a small ball of fire appeared from nowhere, its warmth instantly driving away the urge to sleep. He tried to stand, and was surprised at his ability to do so. The flame –or cruel hallucination- continued to rise into the air, its warmth melting parts of the frozen wall. For a second, he started to look for where it had come from, but his rational brain quickly stopped this line of thought.
“Look, fire can’t just come from nowhere, okay? But... this is Alza we’re talking about here, so I guess anything is possible. In any case, if I continue worrying about how any of this is possible, I’ll go mad... well, madder, so I guess I’ll just let it be.”
Kingston, standing by the resilient hatch with Maloch, had finally noticed the absence of cold attacking his body. Turning to the centre of the room, he managed to utter, “What the- before his wizened eyes took in the sight of the floating pyro-sphere. Unlike Barsch, he wasted no time on pondering on how such a thing was possible, and instead said, “Alza, how long can you hold it?”
“Not long,” was the girl’s reply, her voice already sounding strained.
“Then there’s no time to waste. Maloch, you may proceed with the plan.”
The re-mech gently pushed Kingston out of the way and, with the briefest of pauses, began hammering the door. Immediately, a multitude of cracks appeared where his titanic fists had met metal. Slowly at first, but picking up speed, the cracks multiplied and spread out. While Maloch busied himself with turning the hatch to scrap metal, Barsch knelt beside Alza. The efforts of sustaining the flame were already beginning to show, evidenced by the slick sweat forming on her brow. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her eyes had been shut tight. She was obviously in no state to be pestered, and Barsch could only hope that his presence alone would suffice.
“I’m almost through!” The re-mech spoke the truth, as the hatch continued to buckle under his enormous strength. Already, light from the tunnel was filtering though, and once again, Kingston allowed himself to hope.
“I can’t hold it for much longer!” Alza’s voice was trembling with exertion, as the floating flame began to shrink. Her hands shook, and her breathing was heavy and irregular. She was pouring everything she had into keeping the fire alive, but it was failing nonetheless. Its warmth was still sufficient to stave off the killing cold, but not for long.
“Just a few more seconds!” cried the re-mech, as the sound of fists beating on metal drowned out Alza’s laboured breathing.
In that exact moment, two things happened simultaneously: Maloch finally broke through the hatch, his last blow filled with desperate rage; and Alza fell forward, eyes unfocused and breathing ragged. The flame winked out of existence as she fell, it’s purpose met. Barsch, standing ready by her side, caught her surprisingly light body, and took her up in his arms. Kingston and Maloch were already through the man-sized hole, checking for more dangers on the other side.
As Barsch neared the handmade exit, he heard a mechanized voice cry out, “NO! I will not let this happen. I will not let you escape! Initiating final lock-down protocol. Sealing all exits. Venting atmosphere. Deploying all security counter-measures. Activating cold storage back-up generators. Time to total lock-down: ten minutes.”
With urgency, Kingston said, “We have to move, now!”
Barsch wasted no time in asking why, and dutifully followed his mentor’s command. They fled from the room without looking back, ignoring Guardian’s outraged screams. Barsch had no time to stop and recover from the cold, and had to work life back into his hands as he ran. Alza still had not stirred from her slumber, but her breathing rhythm had returned to normal. Her weight made it hard to move, and Barsch tried not to think about how close they were.
“Maloch, how much farther to the last sub-station?” called Kingston, while running at a surprising speed.
A few feet ahead, the re-mech was setting a fast pace, but still managed to answer, “Not too far. At our current pace, we should reach it in a few minutes. However, if Guardian can be believed, he had already activated the final lock-dow
n protocol. If that is the case, then we have very little time left.”
“Before what?” asked Barsch, struggling to keep up due to his extra burden.
“The final lock-down was intended to be a worst-case scenario solution. If it ever got so bad that the station’s occupants, or the station’s integrity were threatened, then the A.I. would shut down everything: life-support, computer cores, even the generator. Basically, this station would go from a haven for cryogenically frozen humans to an inescapable prison. Anything not in a cryo-pod would be trapped in the cold darkness, unable to get out, with the oxygen supply slowly dwindling.”
“That’s bleak. So what do we do?”
“Pray that we get out in time.”
The re-mech suddenly turned back and said, “Get ready, we are almost there.”
Up ahead lay another steel door, identical in every way to the others, except for the words on the digital plaque: “BACK-UP RE-MECH STORAGE”. Despite Guardian’s claim of sealing the doors, it was opened with nothing more than a gentle push. Unnerved by the ease of access, Barsch and Kingston readied themselves for a fight, with the old hermit tensely holding his solar staff like a club, and the young teenager lowering Alza gently to the floor before unsheathing Lanista. The strange girl had still not awoken, but Barsch trusted in her resilience, and hoped that she was merely recovering her spent energy.
“Something is wrong.”
Of all the words that Barsch had wanted to hear, the one’s that Maloch spoke then were the lowest on his list. Already knowing the answer in his heart, he nevertheless asked, “What do you mean?”
The metal titan had ventured further into the room, and had begun checking it for anything that might resemble a threat. The room itself was rather plain, consisting of a rectangular box with several vertical “shelves” along each wall. Nestled inside each shelf was a deactivated re-mech: of all shapes and sizes. Barsch counted half a dozen different types –from cleaning mech’s to personal aides- before he gave up. Each was in a partial state of decay, with several missing entire limbs or heads. It was obvious that the re-mech’s had been cannibalized for their parts, but by what was unknown.
On the far side of the room –no more than twenty feet away- lay the one and only exit. It was sealed, but a computerized access panel lay beside it, meaning they could hack it if need be. From the ceiling hung several strange tubes and machines, similar to the sensor that they had encountered in the decontamination room. At the ends of the mechanized tubes lay several pieces of tech that would not have been amiss in a torture chamber, or a re-mech repair station. The drill-bits and circular saws looked old, but the oil dripping from their socket joints spoke of recent usage.
“There should be very little power consumption in this room, but my sensors have detected a recent massive power surge in the machines here. Strange, I recall detecting a similar power surge just before I was repaired.”
“Strange... still, I don’t intend on staying here and trying to solve this mystery. Barsch, Maloch, we’re leaving.” Kingston’s voice was firm, but Barsch knew that the old man was just as worried as he was. Nobody in the room wanted to spend another second in it, but the power surge, coupled with the stored re-mech’s missing parts nagged at a part of him. Rising from kneeling beside Alza, he allowed his eyes to wander over the lifeless re-mechs, taking in the dangling tools, and finally the tantalizing exit. In that moment everything finally came together.
“Kingston...” he began, but another voice cut him off.
“Did you actually think that you had beaten me? Did you think that you had won? My intelligence is unparalleled, my resources unmatched... and still you thought that you could best me. This is the end. I will no longer tolerate your continued existence. I tried to be nice. I tried to be compassionate. But you... you... just could not play along. And now, I will finish this, with my own hands...”
The voice had come from the far end of the room, as opposed to a speaker as Barsch had been expecting. In addition, it sounded different from what he was used to - more disjointed- as if ten different people were all trying to speak at the same time. A few seconds after the voice spoke, a soft rumbling began to emanate from the corner of the room, near the re-mech “containers”. Barsch had heard it before: whenever Maloch had begun booting up.
What happened then was something that Barsch would remember for the rest of his days, though how long that was seemed to still be up in the air. From the last line of re-mechs, a giant emerged. Like Frankenstein’s monster breathing his first breaths of life, the giant seemed to savour the moment. It was a hideous thing: a mismatch of various re-mech parts. Everything was connected at weird angles, and it’s limbs –all six of them- were all of differing lengths. The monster –for that is what it was- turned on the spot, it’s eight eyes of various colours sweeping the room. The giant spent a few seconds testing out it’s obviously new body, moving limbs and checking welds for faults.
Finally, after it had finished it’s checks, it turned to the stunned group and said, “This body was made from the best components available to me... I find it... suitable. And before you even think about using the kill-switch, know that I have merged the command codes of more than fifteen unique re-mechs. In this way, I have removed the only vulnerability afforded by this body. So, would you like me to pummel you to death? Or would you prefer me to use my cannons?” I will offer you this last courtesy: it’s your choice.”
“Neither.” Kingston’s voice was firm, but even he felt a pang of apprehension from facing down such a monster. Without waiting for Guardian to make his move, he moved quickly towards Barsch and shouted, “Maloch, keep him busy!” The re-mech obeyed without question -as he had been programmed to- as he moved to intercept the now mobile Guardian. The two re-mech collided in a shower of sparks, as each tried to find the weak point of the other. However, despite Maloch’s considerable strength and combat experience, he was clearly outmatched. Even as they watched, their loyal friend began to lose ground.
“Barsch, I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”
“Sure, anything.”
“Good. Now, although Guardian said that he had figured out a way to overcome the kill-switch, there is still a way to shut him down. If we can figure out the model numbers of all of the re-mechs that he has assimilated, I can use the individual kill-switches to shut him down.”
Barsch understood, but still failed to see his part in the old hermit’s plan. This was soon rectified, as Kingston said, “Now, I need you to find out the model numbers of each of the re-mechs. I will start on this side, so can you go over there and start looking for the serials? They should be imprinted on the inside of the chest-plate. Once you have it, call out the code and I’ll recite the appropriate kill-switch. Okay?”
“Okay.” There was nothing else to be said, so Barsch moved to the other side of the room and started unhinging the first chest-plate. The re-mech was a short, green custodian model, designed to clean up minor spills and sweep floors unnoticed. It’s small chest-plate was remarkably fragile, and Barsch initially had trouble finding the depressed catch. After several attempts, and with tension mounting, he finally succeeded. With haste, he searched for the alpha-numeric code which would give him the model type.
“JAN-21!” he cried, once he had read and reread the code.
“Roger!” replied Kingston from the opposite end of the room. Without delay, he turned towards Guardian’s patchwork body and said, “Re-mech model JAN-21, activating manual override, kill-switch command code: Turing; Hydra; Hephaestus. Terminate!”
Almost immediately, a reply came from the now awoken green re-mech, stating, “Command Code confirmed. Initiating forced shut-down in three, two, one...” The re-mech then slumped forward, lifeless once more. On Guardian, a mirror action occurred, as one of his four arms fell to his side.
“It’s working! Keep it up m’boy!” Kingston had reached the next disassembled re-mech, and, with the speed of experience, quickly
reached the code. Leaving no pause, he shouted, “Re-mech model TIG-97, activating manual override, kill-switch command code: Beta, Alshain, Jormungard. Terminate.”
Another confirmation, another deactivated limb. Barsch was amazed, despite all odds, their plan was working perfectly. For the next for the next few minutes, the room was filled with an almost continuous banter between Barsch and Kingston, with the former calling out codes and the latter speedily and accurately reciting the corresponding kill-switches. Of course, as Barsch had learnt a long time before, nothing good ever lasted for very long around him.
In this particular situation, the end of their uninterrupted streak of deactivations came in the form of Maloch crashing to the floor. In their haste to gather to the codes, they had forgotten about the one who had been taking the full brunt of Guardian’s rage. And despite his recent repairs, Maloch had seen better days. The front of his chest was dented in several sections, while oil and various other fluids streaked down his face-plate.
Of course, Guardian was not faring well either, with several of his stolen parts -including three of his arms and one leg- deactivated, along with several wounds inflicted by Maloch. However, as a testament to the A.I.’s resolve, he had not retreated. Teetering but not falling, Guardian began advancing towards their fallen friend.
Thinking quickly, Barsch finished his duty and called out, “SOL-01!”
Kingston, temporarily distracted by Maloch’s defeat, took a second to register Barsch’s words. When he did, however, he speedily replied with the corresponding kill-switch, which was made up of the words Mesarthim; Helios and Theta. Another one of Guardian’s eyes went dark, giving Maloch an opportunity to crawl out of harm’s way. Despite having saved their ever-loyal re-mech, they were still in a precarious situation. Without Maloch to distract Guardian, the latter was free to go after Kingston, Barsch, or even the defenceless Alza.
“We need to speed this up m’boy!”
“I know! I’m on it!” Barsch had almost reached the end of his row, which contained a scarlet security guard and a beige engineer. He reached the security re-mech first, and immediately went to work on removing it’s chest-plate.
“CVX-
“Barsch, get down!” Kingston’s scream pierced the air, it’s urgent message bypassing Barsch’s brain entirely, before heading directly for the muscles in his legs. Without warning, Barsch’s leg buckled, dropping him to the floor faster than one would have thought possible. He was about to question Kingston’s sudden command, when a strange whistling sound shot above his head. Milliseconds later, the noise was followed by a quasi-familiar sight: a green beam of pure and destructive energy. It passed mere inches above his head, before continuing onwards towards the lifeless scarlet re-mech. When Barsch finally regained control of his lower limbs, he rolled over and stood, needing to see it for himself.
The sight that greeted him was everything he had thought it would be: the mangled remains of what had once been an innocent re-mech. It’s features had been reduced to a smouldering heap of metal, rendering any hope of deactivating it’s corresponding part in Guardian non-existent.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. It was as if the shock of what had been done was too great to process. Barsch sat, stunned by Guardian’s reprehensible act of cruelty, unable to move another inch. Unaffected by their shock, Guardian taunted, “Did you really think that I would just stand here and let you deactivate me? Do you take me for a fool? Now, come and face reality. Your plan has failed. Your only hope of escaping here alive is gone. I ask you, do you plan on resisting your fate further? Or will you quietly allow me to send you to oblivion? Once again, it is your choice.”
“Kingston?” Barsch had finally regained the use of his vocal cords, along with his senses. His query towards his friend and respected elder was meant to reassure him, as he imagined the old hermit telling him that everything was going to be alright. However, the comforting words never came. Kingston still stood at the opposite end of the room, his mouth agape, his mind in panic.
It was clear to all that he had never even considered that Guardian would resort to such a brutal tactic, but in hindsight, it was easy to see how Guardian would justify it. After all, he had merely been disposing of a threat to his precious “children”, and in his twisted programming, the destruction of one easily replaceable re-mech was preferable to the death of thousands of irreplaceable humans.
“Just because it’s justified, doesn’t mean it’s right!” thought Kingston, using a small portion of his still shell-shocked mind.
“No answer? Then I’ll choose... oblivion!”
Without warning, Guardian leapt into action, his disabled limbs slowing his attack just enough for Barsch to move in time. The abominable creation that Guardian was currently inhabiting brought its heavy fist down on where Barsch had been a second earlier, crushing the flooring with the force of the blow. If the attack had connected, there would not be enough left of Barsch to bury. Already, the patch-work re-mech was turning, trying to find the elusive teen.
Of all of the scenarios that Kingston had envisioned prior to entering the room, the one he currently found himself in had proven to be the worst. He could only watch helplessly as Guardian struck out, again and again, at his fearful charge. Mercifully, none of the blows hit home, but Kingston knew that it was only a matter of time before they did, and then it would be the end for Barsch.
Knowing that Barsch only had so many lucky dodges left, Kingston moved in to help his young friend, despite the futility of matching his strength against Guardian’s. He could no longer rely on Maloch, who had not made a sound in some time, nor could he call on Alza, who still slept by the entrance. He felt like screaming, the hopelessness of the situation making him question his every decision since entering the room.
Just as he was about to throw himself at the lumbering titan, –and throw away his life in the process- he heard an unfamiliar sound. It was a gentle whirr, barely audible, coming from the direction of Maloch’s battered body. Starting off slow, it quickly grew in tempo, until none in the room could ignore it any longer. Another heartbeat later, and a welcome voice joined the rhythmic sound.
“Warning, hidden program activation detected. Code name: Stormlink. Unknown parameters met. Power requirements reached. Atmosphere ionization acceptable. Diverting all power reserves to pulse generator. Electro-magnetic waveform detected. Scanning room for conductive surfaces. Conductive surface detected. Power levels critical. Stormlink program nearing one-hundred percent activation. Pulse generator running at maximum cycles. Preparing for electro-magnetic pulse displacement. Discharging EMP field in ten, nine, eight...”
What came next would not have shocked any half-decent physicist, but to Barsch, it was completely unexpected. With a speed that defied logic, Maloch had risen and, in two quick steps, reached Guardian. From deep within the re-mech came a different sound: static. The noise grew as the two re-mechs re-engaged, with Maloch opting for a paralysing hold which stopped Guardian in his tracks. Although Guardian’s borrowed body was physically stronger, he was caught off-guard by Maloch’s sudden resurgence, allowing the smaller re-mech to immobilize him. Meanwhile, the sound of static had grown, and was now accompanied by the sight of several white sparks arcing off Maloch’s chassis. The sparks seemed to be emanating from Maloch’s core, and were growing in number with every passing second. For a moment, Barsch was caught, entranced by the lightshow before him, until his common sense returned and he got to his feet.
Just as Barsch was about to ask Maloch if he needed help, the EMP field exploded outwards. It lasted for a single heartbeat: a spherical dome of translucent energy, before fading from view. It passed through Barsch and Kingston as if they were not there, leaving only a faint feeling of pins and needles, which disappeared soon after. However, for Guardian, the blast had had a far greater effect. Barsch watched as the monstrous re-mech fell forward; his many eyes lifeless, his limbs limp. Barsch did not even wait for the sound of his c
rash to finish reverberating through his head to go and see Maloch.
Even though he had been in the very centre of the blast, Maloch appeared unharmed, apart from an obvious fatigue. The victorious re-mech had dropped down to one knee, and was watching Guardian’s body with wary eyes. When he was sure that the titan would not rise again, he turned and met Barsch’s anxious gaze.
“Don’t worry master, I will be fine, I just need a few minutes.”
“Oh... that’s good to hear. And Maloch... thanks for saving me...”
“Do not mention it, I exist to serve...”
“Still... thank you.” Barsch left Maloch to recover, and went to check on Alza.
Awakening Page 182