Uprising
Page 102
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The door in the council chamber opened into a spiral staircase, old and partially rusted. Victor and Elijah climbed up and passed through an unlocked hatch into a nondescript circular room, directly above the council space. The walls were entirely blank without any decoration or color. There were no windows, and the floor was a sterile, white tile. In the center was a chair, pivoting points at various places for raising and lowering head and legs. It made the room appear almost like a dentists' office, save for a few differences.
In the curved ceiling of the room could be seen a large assembly of electronics and machinery in a steel frame sticking out of the ceiling. Elijah knew that this was only the very bottom of the device which filled at least the last twenty feet of the spire. The apparatus, at least the bottom end of it, was an unimpressive series of grooved squares with thick electrical cables running into the center of each section. The wiring snaked down the walls and disappeared into several points along the floor.
The sterilization field, the pinnacle of the Citizen regime's technological ingenuity, was projected from this device, coating the entire city in its protective shield. Elijah keenly remembered the years upon years that he labored over the madman's concept. Lange, then at least partially motile, insisted upon the feasibility not simply to keep out microorganisms but for defensive purposes. In conjunction with several points around the city and extending through the walls down into the base of Old Haven, the tower projected a combination electromagnetic field.
Elijah allowed himself a brief moment of nostalgia as he recalled the beginnings of the project. When he began, theory into any practical use of technology such as that was still fairly minimal. Some suggested that it could indeed kill bacteria and other microorganisms, but vague ideas were quite far from utilization. Yet, after years of work, primarily inside this very room, the ideas took shape, and what resulted from the project was elegant and marvelous. It provided the city with the fullest measure of the desired isolation.
Contact with the field caused a release in the internal pressure of cell membranes, destroying any pathogens as well as just about anything else. In addition, the field could easily scramble any electronics, making bombardment or missile attacks imprecise if not completely useless. He knew the field could change its level of opacity as well, it was simply a matter of density. Elijah regarded the pinnacle of his inventing career with strong bitterness. The blasted device is only turned off for Acquisitions now. Whether or not they realize it, the Citizens are his prisoners as much as the subjects of his protection.
Elijah cast his memories aside, as his focus was not on the accomplishments of the past but on the room's sole occupant. Surrounding the chair in the center, suspended from the ceiling, was all manner of monitors and electronic devices. Bundles of cable spewed out in every direction, crawling along the floor and ceiling. Beneath and around the chair was machinery of a different sort. Clear tubes ran from large vessels to the chair, filled with various color and consistency liquids. A deep thrumming filled the air, coming from all of the machinery, which exuded enough heat to make the room uncomfortably warm.
Elijah smirked as all of these measures were wrapped around one weak, frail, and extremely ancient individual seated in his throne. "Hello, Father. Didn't expect to see me face to face?"
The man in the chair looked like a corpse. With only his face, neck, and hands exposed, his pale, heavily-wrinkled skin hung loose from his bones. The top of his mottled head contained only a few faint wisps of thin, near-translucent white hair. His hands were gnarled, and his knuckles protruded from the sallow, waxy skin. On his face was a breathing mask that was hooked into a respirator machine. There were a few other bonuses to the mask, as Elijah well knew: cameras, scanners, and microphones to pick up his speech when necessary.
A dark blue bodysuit that Elijah knew to be for thermal and fluid regulation covered the rest of his father's body. The countless number of tubes and wires connecting to the devices around the chair ran in and out of the suit and the ancient man's body, swirling with proper fluids and waste substances. It kept the old man alive for a span of time that no one could guess. If you could call that living, Elijah thought.
The only thing that did not appear to be far too old to function was the old man's eyes. From the second Elijah and Victor entered the room; Franklin Lange's deep blue eyes watched them, revealing a great deal of remaining awareness.
"Here I was hoping to hear you plead for your life," Elijah said, raising his weapon, "but I suppose you wouldn't remember how to breath without that mask, much less speak."
One of the gnarled hands twitched. Lange's withered arm rose, and he gripped the breathing mask. With a concentrated effort, he moved the mask down, away from his face. He pulled in a few slow breaths on his own but gave a dry, bone-rattling cough. He wiped his mouth with a trembling arm and settled a glare on Elijah.
The voice that came from the decrepit man was grating and raspy, yet it remained clear and comprehensible, containing a strength that belied his extreme age. "So you've made it. You've arrived to do, what? Exact your vengeance?"
"Something like that." Elijah scowled, irritated at the old man's flippant attitude.
"Here I am." Lange released a rattling laugh. "What are you waiting for? Lost your nerve?"
That's it, Elijah thought, clenching his teeth. "Very well, then. If you wish to speed along your journey to oblivion, who am I to argue." He aimed his pistol and stepped forward.
Victor, remaining silent and following along, suddenly tensed. Everything in the room and surrounding the seat appeared to be intended to keep the old man alive and connected to the world. Elijah, blinded by desire for retribution did not question why someone so obsessed with survival suddenly didn't seem to care.
As Elijah brought the weapon to bear, the old man's hand moved and touched something on the arm of the chair. Victor's eyes went wide as panels on each side of the wall slid open. He lunged forward, gripping Elijah by the shoulder and hurling him bodily to the floor. Elijah gave a startled cry and skidded back several feet.
The thrumming intensified and a pulse issued from the panels flanking Victor. The lighting in the room dimmed significantly, and the other machinery chugged as something drew a massive amount of power. The air around Victor shimmered, and the light warped.
Victor's entire body convulsed, muscles seizing, before he toppled to the ground. Elijah felt a twinge of shock roll through his body with a cold, icy grip settling in his chest as Victor's lifeless eyes stared out at him. A dribble of thick blood leaking out of the bodyguard's nose. Elijah's breathing and heart-rate skyrocketed, and a small jolt fired into his mind, which began to cloud over as the world blurred around the edges.
Elijah's eyes flashed to the chair's arm console where Lange's claw-like hand still clutched. Lange's weathered face drew back in an anxious look to see Elijah raise his sidearm and fire. Rounds punched through the fragile machinery in and around the chair. There was a splatter of blood as one bullet glanced off Lange's wrist. The ancient man let out a cry and jerked his hand back.
Elijah turned and fired into the each panel on the wall, damaging and disabling the projector devices. He pointed the gun back at Lange, who now, instead of looking confident and relaxed, appeared frightened. He squirmed in the chair, and his eyes jerked back and forth as though trying to find a way out; he appeared very much like a trapped animal.
Keeping one eye and the weapon trained on the old man, Elijah knelt next to Victor. He touched the man's neck, looking for a pulse. The flesh felt thick and tense, as though it or the tissue beneath had solidified to the consistency of a boiled egg. Victor was quite dead.
Elijah clenched his teeth, and his body trembled with a coldness seeping through his limbs, his weak heart flailing around.
"Very clever, Father. Projecting the energy from the sterilization field as a…" He closed his eyes, willing calm over his body, "final defense." His finger twitched on the trigger. "I adm
it we didn't anticipate anything like it."
The heavily-wrinkled face twisted in a scowl. "You can't kill me. I am the soul of Haven!" he rasped. "The consequences would be dire. You would destroy everything."
Elijah spoke slowly, voice dripping with venom. "Do you understand what you've done, Father?" He hissed breath through his teeth. "You've now taken everything from me. Victor was the very last thing in this world I cared about. The man who shielded me from your wrath and kept me alive long enough to see my mother avenged is dead." He gave a grim smile, feeling a slow, searing agony flood into his chest. "You and I are all that remains."
Lange glared, still helpless in his chair. "That's not true. The Citizens, your people are still here. They will remain behind, and when I die they will be cast into oblivion with us. Would you sacrifice them and the lives of thousands for your petty vengeance?"
Elijah stood. He raised the weapon once more, stared into his father's eyes, and said, "Yes."