In the tomb of the Dragon Empress, buried with her in the darkness, Hiroshima and Nagasaki flickered with a dull green light. The swords appeared to be rough-hewn chunks of metal, hand-forged with either a lack of skill or a simply a need to rapidly assemble a blade from partially-molten scrap metal. And each time another nuke detonated; another city fell; thousands more people, or millions, added to the horrific death toll; the glow grew just a bit brighter. The blades seem to glow with a dark malevolence; a hunger for death that could not be quenched.
The corpse the blades had been buried with; the brutally slain form of the Dragon Empress, in a carefully repaired version of her favorite red ceremonial dress; seemed to shift, in the darkness. The hands almost seemed to move... shifting towards the handles. It was almost a question... were the blades themselves moving, or were the hands?
As the newly crowned replacement in her rebuilt palace hundreds of yards away, protected by layers of concrete and lead, fitfully tried to sleep, the handles reached the corpse... and the entire body began to assume the same vivid green glow.
***
The first thing Eyeball knew when he awoke... was pain. He was sore, everywhere. His head, his legs, his arms, his feet... even his eyebrows were sore, somehow. A dim red light filled the room... but it wasn't a room. It was tiny... And before even opening his eyes, he could see a weapon pointed at him with his foresight. His own gun; the 10mm. He almost blinked. Apollo was holding that gun. And if he struck the hand... Apollo would pull the trigger, and just start screaming in pain. Whatever would happen, if the immortal child pulled that trigger inside this pod, both of them would be hurt. He'd live out the eleven seconds... but he couldn't be sure beyond that.
The hell? He didn't put any security features on it. Was this something to do with the runes? Was it somehow connected to him? Still. If he could just wait for Apollo to put it away. Did he know he was awake?
Apollo looked.. resigned. Alive, exhausted, and bruised, probably about the same shape Eyeball was in; and sitting on the other side of the tiny cabin, just a few feet outside of arm's reach. "And there we are. You know, quite a few of the possible futures showed you killing me. Most of them Zeus killed you during the process. The rest, I suspect he would have killed you later; I only have a vague idea of futures after my death."
Eyeball turned to face Apollo; while he was sitting, the two were almost at an even height. His helmet systems had already been online before he himself had awoken; already telling him, no significant damage. No broken bones. Heartbeat, everything a bit elevated; like he'd just run a few laps after taking a dose of Reflex. He smiled.
"I have to admit. I considered killing you. Mostly because I'd prefer if nobody knew exactly what I can do; it'd make it harder for people to setup an ambush that overwhelms my abilities. As it stands, all they have to do is create a trap that is inescapable and inevitable with a 3-second delay and I might just walk right into it. I hadn't really made up my mind, one way or the other. You hadn't really done anything to piss me off... you were just a threat."
He just stares at Apollo. "So, I'd like to thank you, for settling things for me. Making things easier. Up until I woke up just now, it was a moral quandary. Could go either way. Now? Well. You won't leave this escape pod alive."
Apollo frowned. "Thats.... You're unreasonably certain that's true. Your confidence is ill-founded. You're good, but despite appearances, I'm faster and stronger than you. I've been drinking Ambrosia for thousands of years. If this weapon weren't augmented with some frankly pitiful runework, it couldn't even hurt me except for a shot up the nose, or in the eye. The other one actually can't. Its why I took this one from you."
Eyeball tilted his head. "Ambrosia. So... there's really some sort of immortality juice out there?"
Apollo sighed, shaking his head. "No matter. Whatever you believe, this is the end. Eventually, I'll recover my powers, and take my place Any last words? Anything you'd like me to pass on? To your friends?" He thought for a moment. "Those who still live, or care, anyway."
Eyeball rolled his neck back and forth, stretching without leaving his seat. "Tell me about Ambrosia, I'll tell you a secret about the future."
Apollo reached down into his waistband, and slowly pulled out a small, silver-handled knife, keeping back; clearly concerned about some possible surprise attack, keeping the gun leveled on Eyeball's chest throughout. "Its a mutant plant. Sucks the life out of its environment, produces fruit that has the condensed life force equivalent of dozens of people. We have a grove of them we have to tend carefully, making sure the surroundings stay vibrant enough to keep it alive despite its constant attempts to kill it all."
Eyeball blinked. "Nice. You ready for the secret?"
"What? Some amusing quip? An insult?"
"Nah." He moved his hand as slowly and nonthreateningly as possible, pointing at the handgun. "You pull the trigger on that thing, it will hurt you more than me. And you'll be dead within seconds."
The seeming child stared at him. "I've listened to a thousand threats. A million promises. A billion lies. I've come to know our race and its foibles extremely well over the years. You're remarkably convincing. The worst part is, I half think you're not just telling the truth... but deliberately trying to provoke me into pulling the trigger."
Eyeball flattened his hand; leaving his palm pointed at Apollo. A glowing circle became visible at the center of his palm. "Honestly, it doesn't matter now. It seems strange. I've heard you watched the Pyramids being built. If we survive this war with the Jotun, it will be because of you. But... the fact that this war is happening at all, is because of you."
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Apollo blinked, startled. The gun was off-center for just a fraction of a second. He started to open his mouth, to say something.
He didn't have to pull a trigger. The artificial hand was connected to his nervous system; after months of practice, firing the weapon was as simple as breathing. The projectile hurtled down an accelerator faster than the speed of sound; a tiny, Osmium-tipped magnetic cartridge, going ever faster as it went. When it emerged; the sound was deafening in the enclosed space.
The projectile went above Apollo's heart; penetrating the clavicle, his spine, and the wall behind him. As his arms went limp, and Apollo began to fall, the shockwave did catastrophic damage to his internal organs. The polymer panels inside the pod cracked; and a single ray of natural sunlight, shaded green, pierced the dimly lit pod.
Eyeball pulled to his feet, freeing both arms from the straps. There was barely room to stand inside the pod. The boy was twitching; somehow just barely still alive; when he pulled the tenner from his grip. His eyes looked up. It seemed as if they met his own, through the reflective helmet's surface.
A second shot. Carefully placed, directly to the temple; ending it quickly. He went limp.
Eyeball glanced down at the gun. Most of these magical devices only felt as if they were glowing. His helmet's built-in camera would likely show it as the same simple gunmetal it always had been, if it were a lesser weapon. For something this potent... the red glow was more visible after Apollo was slain. Considering magical weapons... He looked at the silver-handled dagger speculatively.
What sort of dagger would a multi-thousand-year-old carry around with him? Was it a dangerous weapon? A trap? Some sort of special tool? For a moment, he envisioned a secretive Apollo's vault, that used the dagger as a key... and considered searching the boy's corpse. He picked up the dagger, regardless; a dark grey blade, a silver handle... and collected its sheathe as well, just in case... before yanking the opening lever of the escape pod...
To reveal... a tree. Just inches away. The escape pod seemed to have landed inside of a jungle of some sort; and his GPS system wasn't working anymore. Just as he started to curse the reliance on orbital equipment for this sort of nonsense, he noticed... a map on the inside of the escape pod door. Complete with a 'You are here' dot.
Not a digital map. An old-fashioned paper map, laminated and taped to the door. As he peeled it off, he could hear a faint buzzing sound. Lovely. He was looking forward to a long trudge through mud, bugs, and predators before he could find a path out of here... miles away to the east. He glanced up. And of course, its noon. No clue which way east is. Lovely.
***
Sergeant Skinner ducked when the first charge went off; and he heard an alien shriek of pain and anger. He hadn't expected that; they hadn't actually gotten one for miles now. He and his men carried their Gauss rifles a bit further, and started to dig into the ice and snow; their suits should conceal them from thermal imaging, so the Jotun would need to get in close to find them; and he hoped to make them pay for every step of that advance.
As further charges went off, he could hear energy weapons fire; a distinct buzz and steam explosion without any report of gunfire; and more charges detonating. They were advancing. And fast. Looking carefully for traps along the way, shooting anything suspicious as they advanced; but for a Jotun soldier, a careful advance was faster than a human could walk, or even run. Some of his men had already died slowing and misdirecting him from there.
He looked around at his men. Twenty-six. In the last war, they would've considered it a victory if they killed even a single Jotun. There were hundreds on that ship. "Keep your guns on auto, boys. These things can tell the difference between you and a Jotun, and will just shoot as soon as it comes across the sensors. You try to aim, you're dead. Aim at the ones already on the ground to finish them off. Just sweep the gun, let it fire. And don't bother with any cover less than two meters thick. These aren't AKs they'll be shooting at you."
This was a decent enough ambush point. Large boulders and chunks of ice obstructing view of anyone emerging from the canyon. They'd deliberately left a trail the Jotun would hopefully follow out of it; and had a wide open area, with each soldier behind his own cover; even better, they could pile snow atop themselves, and their insulated suits would hide them from most sensors until the first shots fired made those weapons heat up.
He took a slow, deep breath.. and heard a sudden loud pop; followed by a sudden flash of flame and steam; another pop; there was a wounded Jotun at the canyon exit, crawling away; he'd already shot the man who hit him and was crawling for cover. Skinner saw one of his other men carefully line up a shot; and the Jotun's head vanish in a grisly splatter of alien flesh against the rocks and ice. He cursed; within moments, the man vanished as a Jotun drone; a semi-automated drone likely controlled by one of the other Jotun; slammed into the location he'd fired from, ending the executioner with a flash.
He quietly willed his men to be quiet, immobile. One dead Jotun, two dead soldiers. If they could keep those numbers up, the war would be a short one.
Suddenly, a dozen popping sounds; three Jotun were out of the canyon; one wounded, trailing blue-grey fluids behind it as it rushed ahead; the other two leaping high over the battlefield, spraying energy blasts at anything that looked like cover.
Weapons were raised; several men tried to draw a bead on a Jotun; over the next several seconds, the creatures leaping like enormous insects from soldier to soldier, the two uninjured ones had driven twenty of his men from cover, plasma blasts searing flesh and setting ammunition off, shattering cover and forcing startled reactions out of the men behind it; he'd gone from 26 to 5 in seconds as more Jotun drones had dropped down, self-destructing on soldiers moments after they revealed themselves; he couldn't even see how many of the things were in the surrounding air.
The Gauss rifles and their auto-fire had done their job, however. All three Jotun were sporting injuries; one actually had two missing limbs, and had fallen out of the sky; while the least injured one was still flying; leaking its own fluids from its injuries, clearly not in the best of shape, but observing the field from above, clearly looking for more hidden soldiers.
This... was perfect. He and his men were likely doomed, yes. They would soon be sweeping the area with better sensors; the Jotun had short-range sensors that no thermal suit could fool, and eventually a human just had to move enough to trigger a motion detector. But an AC would be coming to pick up that wounded Jotun. They could set off the charges; hopefully undetectable beneath the ice and snow; and take even more of the crabs with them. There was even the slight chance one of his men might live; one of the corporals was actually behind cover that might stand up to the blast.
Even better... they were seven miles from McMurdo. The aliens had followed them all this way. There was a chance... not much of one, but a chance... that Frostbite's trickery with rearranging the terrain might preserve the base he was supposed to be protecting.