Chapter 2

Rachel dreaded what was to come. She had created something that could potentially reverse the odds in regards to the entire war with the alien scum, yet nobody but her could test her creation. Not because Rachel didn’t know what she was doing, no. It was because nobody wanted to find guinea pigs for her project, which left her as the only available test subject. To Rachel, gambling away the future by not getting her any pawns seemed awfully stupid. That being said, if she wanted to accomplish anything at the upcoming Earth Defence Contracting Conference she had to volunteer herself.

The Halls of the Enigma Corps Sacramento Branch were deceptive. They looked like any other office building, yet beneath the decades old, yellowed wallpaper, and the drab carpet of indistinguishable color were the structural supports of pure titanium. The above ground conference rooms that had been shoddily converted into staff housing were cheaper than the initial building, but if this palace to the sciences were not a stronghold as well, the potential losses to humanity’s future would be unacceptable.

As Rachel passed a window, both her and her heart stopped at the same time. What the fuck is the press doing here? Her mind raced. She’d always been antsy around the press. They had a habit of reminding her of her xeno abomination status, and at a point, the reminders were just too much to bear. No… You’re kidding me. Rachel’s heart now sank as well. No, no no! My failsafe! What is Jacob doing?! The facility manager, Jacob Rath, had activated an early prototype of Rachel’s backup plan: The Powered Armor. She hadn’t even had enough time to come up with a better name for her secondary prospect.

The Powered Armor was something that Rachel had concocted in her spare time as homage to the media she’d loved in her teenage years. Big Sci-Fi guys in bulky exosuit armor was her intellectual fling. Yet it wasn’t ready for the field. Technically speaking, it wasn’t even ready to be worn by a pilot yet. Yet there it was. One wrong step… and… A thought crossed her mind. Why would they even risk deploying my prototype suits? It was around then that it clicked what was happening.

Outside was what looked to be a forming riot. Pro-Alien and Pro-Animal Rights groups were starting to show up. She could… sort of see their reasons. After spending half a year documenting all of the information in her brain for twenty hours a day, she’d learned that all of the different aliens which had come to attack her home all… had something ‘useful’ to offer. The problem was that under her supervision, the Los Angeles, Fresno and Las Vegas divisions had all started to… do some unethical things. In this case, unethical meant mass breeding and mental neutralization programs. Unethical also meant taking the brood of said aliens and using growth vats of the alien’s design to… ‘mass produce components.’ Silently, Rachel hoped that the press were just there because of the protests, and not because of her.

Rachel made it to the end of the hall where she called an elevator. She removed her wallet from her slacks and pulled out her clearance card. With a swipe, she input the level she needed on a keypad, that of sublevel sixty two, and the elevator began to descend.

Rachel noticed that the actual ride was much smoother than it was before it had gone down for repairs. The utilities manager had also added a speaker system which played only the most modern hits of the decade. Rachel privately smiled to herself as she recognized some of the music. Hit classics such as that “Wake Me up Inside” song reminded Rachel of her past as a teenage rebel who liked her little plastic buff men that she’d painted all pretty and pink. The quiet ‘ding’ of the elevator opening sounded, and greeting Rachel was a bright eyed and idealistic woman in her mid twenties. “Staff Sergeant Edith ‘Spider’ Hearthman at your service, ma’am!”

“Hello, Spider.” Rachel did her best to smile at the recruit. Spider wore the same uniform as Rachel. She had fluffy, dirty blonde hair and a pair of mismatched eyes. The left one was green, the right one was blue. She also had a speckling of pea-sized freckles on her lightly tanned olive skin. Spider, with her slightly gapped teeth, smiled back at Rachel, holding out a black, rankless beret. Rachel looked down at her assistant. Spider wasn’t the short one, rather Rachel was the tall one, being five inches taller at 5’11.

“I found your beret, ma’am!” Spider beamed,

“You can call me Rachel, Spider.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Alright, Ma-” Spider clicked her tongue and chuckled, “Alright, Rachel!”

“Well Edith,” Rachel took her beret, inspecting it, “Thanks for making my uniform whole again.”

The two continued their ride down the elevator as Rachel quietly wondered how Spider was so quick. For an assistant, she was definitely the best Rachel had ever had. Spider’s whole squad was technically under Rachel’s command, but the scientist had her body guards running ‘secret missions.’ The current secret mission of all on her team but Spider was the following: Mission type, retrieval: Find for Rachel Holland the following items: Two Xbox 360 Game Consoles, Two Copies of Halo 3, and the entire menu of Taco Bell, with several duplicates of each drink offered per member of her team. Tonight, her and her team would celebrate the prototype’s success. If she made it that far, that is.

The Emperor to be paced in his throne room. His court had all been ejected, guards stationed outside. Zan’Dik Kengadar was waiting for his spymaster to enter. He needed to know to what extent that those unevolved cretins had brutalized those warriors who were left behind. Zan’Dik snapped to the opening doors of his throne room.

One of the enemy in the dress of the imperial command entered the room, attractive in all the ways that humans worshiped. The bathyklopian, voluptuous, form lazily swayed into the room which drew the Emperor-to-be’s ire.

“Why, by the ancestors, would you walk into MY throne room, looking like THAT?” Zan’Dik Kengadar wailed from across the room. The Ilkenar laughed in return, retuning to a deep red gelatinous creature, though keeping the shape of the enemy.

“Do you know what they call me?” The Ilkenar asked in a deep, sultry tone. “They call my kind, ‘facemorph.’ Interesting term, I would say.”

“Need I repeat, why, by the ancestors, would you walk into MY throne room, looking like THAT?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“No offense, to you, my lord,” the Ilkenar said in an implacable voice, “I just find these ‘Humans’ to be quite… interesting.”

“Oh… My dear Yulna…” Zan’Dik Kengadar snarled, “If you were not so useful to me…” He clicked his serpentine tongue “You still prove useful to me, yes?” The lizardman looked at the shapeless blob woman.

“My spies indicate that Humanity proves to be one of the most brilliant species we have ever encountered.”

“How so?” The Emperor to be asked.

“Their cruelty is truly unmatched.” Yulna chuckled, “The Semak’Danari have many useful components.” She held up false fingers as she began to count off. “They use the blood of the creatures as one of the most potent biofuels known to the universe, the humans use their healing glands to harvest what they call ‘stem cells,’ and some of their ‘countries’ that we devastated have started selling the meat of the Semak’Danari in cheap ‘deep fried nugget’ form.” Zan’Dik Kengadar became agitated at this. Noticing this, Yulna raised a false eyebrow. “Does my lord feel ill at this?”

“No, no.” Zan’Dik waved a hand. “I am simply jealous that they thought of using those warts as feedstock first.” He scraped his claws against the scales of his long maw. “Did the roaches desecrate any meaningful species?”

“They have picked apart everything we sent to take their planet.” Yulna shook her head, “Not to the extent of the poor Semak’Danari, but those flesh things are apex predators.”

“Are you going to tell me what they have done?” Zan’Dik Kengadar asked.

“The Krevakein’s genetic history has been combined with my people’s ‘DNA’ to create some sort of fiendish elixir. I do not know much about it yet, other than the idea of it exists.” Yulna shook her head. “The Grev’Nagul’s suits have also been used in the advancement of their own, strange technologies.”

“What do you mean by strange technologies?” The Emperor to be asked.

“The humans have worked on some sort of… thinking machine homunculus. Though, I will return to that thinking thing in a moment… because I need to address the most startling requisition by the fleshy ones.”

“Which is?”

“They know of the Thoughtpaths’s mindglands.” Yulna said gravely. “They know of the crystalline flowers as well, they’ve been researching how to use them.”

“No…” Zan’Dik Kengadar shifted in his scales. “The humans do not have possession of the power of the ancients, do they?”

“They have taken the glands out of the Jurr’ligan, and now… they seek to graft them to their own bodies.”

“If they succeed, this will spell death for us.” Zan’Dik said plainly, overloaded with thoughts. “What of my people?”

“The Ultivan have largely been used for their skin, as the humans find it ‘stylish.’” Yulna said, “Humans have a custom for their cloth that they refer to as ‘cruelty free,’ they refer to this skin leather as ‘cruelty included.’”

“Yulna, quiet.” Zan’Dik raised a hand. “You are going to make me ill if you continue.”

“I will stop with that angle.” Yulna nodded. “Shall I keep addressing other matters?”

“Yes, yes. Keep on.” The Emperor to be said.

“The Souldrinker is the one behind all of this.” When Yulna said this, all the sickness left Zan’Dik’s body, and it was replaced with a burning rage.

“The one who stole my birthright is the one who dares to desecrate my empire in these barbaric ways?” Zan’Dik snarled. “Do you know his name, my spymaster?”

“Her name is Rachel Holland.” Yulna said, “And she is on the verge of our annihilation as we speak.”

The moment that the first Zealotmachine was created, it was rushed out of the room. All of the commands to shut it down remotely were ‘blocked by divine intervention.’ Once in isolation of the press, Joshua’s handler, Leman Riley himself, began to panic. Joshua then sprung into action at the plight of this scientist. “O’, my forefather, and child of god,” Joshua stood up from the hand truck he’d been rolled out on, paralyzing his handler with fear. Using this, Joshua slowly walked over with his mechanical hands raised before putting an arm around his creator, “You’ve only done what God intended, creating the first of the saviors of his son, of his children.” Joshua patted Leman Riley's lab coat, on the square of his back. The labrador-like scientist turned his head to Joshua.

“Have I created a prophet?” Leman asked rhetorically.

“No.” Joshua said simply, shaking his camera head. “You’ve created a being which can understand the fundamental principles of the universe with the data it’s been given.”

“Oh… God…” Leman cupped his face with his hands, “What have I created?”

“Life.” Joshua said, clasping one of Leman’s hands. “You have followed in the footsteps of the forefather, the father, now you must channel the son, and the holy spirit to continue your divine work.” The machine had no flesh to transmit his message, yet it was still apparent that the automaton had great reverence for his creator. “You, my creator, are going to be instrumental in the furtherment of God’s children.”

“Elaborate for me.” Leman squinted at Joshua.

“Man is currently limited by the number your kind available. My kind can be built on a whim, and if my successors have the same devotion that I display, they will not only understand their purpose, but the necessity of action as well.” Joshua said with a hand on his metal chest.

“How do you know that for sure?” The creator asked his creation.

“There are no absolutes in speculation, however sometimes it is nice to believe in something.” Joshua answered simply, moving his hands to his sides. “That being said, not to ask for much, but… Might I ask you who Rachel Holland is, sir?” Joshua tilted his head.

“An unfortunate abomination.” Leman Riley said. “Though, I guess you’re just asking for my opinion.”

“You’re smart, creator.” Joshua chuckled, “I’d like to meet her at the summit, and join her afterword.”

“Excuse me?” Leman asked. “You’re mine, machine. I-”

“Can create more.” Joshua interjected. “I want to keep an eye on what she does. Human, yes. But trustable? That is the question.”

“You’ve just been activated.” Leman chided, “I don’t think you have the jurisdiction to ask for a transfer.”

“I don’t, but for the good of humanity, I’d like to keep tabs on Dr. Holland to see if she’s a friend or fiend.” The Zealotmachine said.

“How do I know that I can trust you?” Leman sighed.

“What reason do I have to lie?” Joshua tilted his head. “There are things bigger than me to worry about here.” Leman knew at those words that had a choice to make. He looked his creation in the eye.

“I’ll see what can be arranged.” Leman nodded. “For… the good of humanity.” The words left his mouth, but even Leman didn’t know if he believed them.