38

Outside the windows, Zurich bathed under the afternoon light. The captain ordered his men to keep the ship a thousand feet above the airport, but everyone on the ground could already see it. Flanking the Achilles were three corvettes on each side, the other half controlled by Captain Abbott and Sully while Prime controlled the others.

I stepped out of the bridge and walked toward the elevator with Jason, Amelia, my family, and Kyle, with several Praetorian Knights nearby. The frigate contained five decks of corridors, passageways, habitation, and combat decks. The largest deck was the cargo bay at the bottom, which housed eighty star-fighters and five shuttles. About half of the former was already hovering above the airport, led by Ben and his squadron.

A show of strength, I thought.

Prime One, Alonso, Smitty, Tom, and Rachel were already waiting for me on the shuttle. I watched out the window as we slowly descended onto the tarmac and saw a sea of people crowded around a small platform with the local police acting as a barrier; a red carpet unrolled for a hundred feet from the stage toward our landing zone. The shuttle landed gently and lowered the ramp.

“Remember to smile,” Jason whispered behind me.

I thought bitterly that I was probably going to do a lot of that for the next two hours.

The legionnaires and then the Praetorian Knights marched out first, fully displaying their uniforms for the journalists and photographers waiting from the side of the stage. No doubt Uncle Nathan and Tom had instructed and trained them extensively before this occasion, making sure no step was out of sync. They flanked the carpet on each side and evenly positioned themselves apart.

Next, it was my turn.

Once I stepped out into the afternoon light, cheers rushed through the crowd—a marching band played by the side of the stage, the tune matching the crowd’s energy. Daniel and Isaac stood by my side while Prime One, Jason, Amelia, Uncle Nathan, and my father stood behind me, wearing their full regalia, and they actually looked good in them. We walked toward the stage; the legionnaires, centurions, and the Praetorian Knights bowed their heads as I passed.

I caught the reporters in the media section talking about my arrival toward the cameras in different languages. Quickly, babel kicked in, translating what they were saying. Some focused on Daniel and Isaac, while the others talked about my soldiers and entourage. After all, this would be their first public appearance, and everyone believed them to be my heirs. For a twelve and a nine-year-old, the boys handled themselves well from all the attention, raising their chins high and following my steps.

However, once Prime One appeared, their conversations quickly shifted to him.

“—This is just in. The first sighting of the Architects,” one German reporter told the camera.

“—This marks the first time that the Architect, called Prime, has appeared in public with the emperor!”

“—Hand in hand with a human—”

“—Humanity and machine together—”

“—A strong imperial force on Zurich—”

“—What does this mean for the empire at such blatant fascist display—”

I drowned them out.

At least the media and the crowd seemed to love Daniel and Isaac’s presence, and the boys beamed in return, stealing glances at me to make sure they were doing something right. I could feel a shift in the air as if I was no longer a static image they only saw through the screen, brochures, or posters, but that I had a life, a family, and responsibilities.

I nodded to the boys. “Go on. Wave.”

They waved and smiled, and even Daniel took a red rose from a pretty girl behind the barrier before we got onstage. Dozens of clicks from the photographers loved the candid moment. My family and I shook hands with each of the four federal council members on stage, including Senn and Vogel, who profusely thanked my presence for accepting all this pageantry.

I was surprised that France, New Zealand, Peru, and the UK sent their ambassadors to greet me personally. I reckoned Chabert, Walker, Carrasco, and President Seydoux didn’t want to be left out of the spotlight now that it’s trained at the Swiss. After all, they will be running this diplomatic win for a month. Behind the ambassadors were a handful of representatives from NATO.

I could tell that Senn and Vogel were proud they managed to “convince” me to do this shindig, making it seem like I was a busy man, and this was all beneath me when they mentioned it to the other two councilors. The latter politely shook my hand, a hint of jealousy crossing their faces when Senn and Vogel briefly chatted about the summit’s success and the business we discussed. I’ve heard they’ve been bragging within the Federal Palace about bringing the banks to the empire’s reach, thereby making the fucking banking investors, stockholders, and the Swiss government richer in less than a week (more than they could accumulate in half a decade). I reiterated that this was the council’s win just as much as mine, and the other two councilors smiled at that.

I gritted my teeth and politely said, “Well, councilors, I will keep in mind what we discussed. But don’t we have a lot of speeches to do?” I gestured to the stage. The marching band was still playing, and the crowd proudly waved the imperial flag in the air (This always made my heart flutter).

Vogel grinned. “Of course, of course, emperor! We are just happy to see you again. Um, welcome to Switzerland!”

I forced a smile. “Thanks for the warm welcome, councilors.”

“Ah, well, you’re paying for it.” Senn laughed. “No matter. We are glad you graced us with your presence, your grace. Over the past week since the summit, the Swiss people have been willing to extend a friendly hand to the empire. See?” He nodded over to the crowd.

I glanced over to the large airport terminal. Behind that building, many protesters were screaming bloody murder because I dared step foot on European soil, throwing the words “Traitor to Humanity” all over the place. I merely nodded at Senn’s “truth.”

With the Swiss Federal Council, we marched to the front of the stage, a force of unity between Switzerland and the Empire, and waved to the crowd who would become my people. My father chatted up with the councilors, using his blue-collar charm to talk about anything he fancied, and it seemed like they were getting along quite well while a few ribbon cuttings and the placard showing I did on the stage. I got jealous that my family got to sit for the better part of an hour while I stood like a peacock in full display in the zoo. Only Uncle Nathan scanned the crowd like they were about to lunge into the stage and rip me apart. He had his forerunner-made pistol hidden under his cloak, ready to use it if necessary.

I gave my speech that Meredith and Jason wrote for me as eloquently as I could put it, and I also tried to imitate what a leader should sound like from the movies. I sounded a little like Bill Pullman on Independence Day. I considered using the same speech I did for the troops, but Jason almost had a heart attack.

“You never do a speech twice. Never. Do you want to invite the trolls online and mock you?”

Although I wanted to tell him I didn’t care about the trolls, he had a point. We couldn’t afford any mistake, even as petty as a repeated speech.

It was a standard affair of unity and progress, hope amidst a brutal war, and perseverance toward a bright future. However, the protesters brought out their megaphones and speakers, and their voices occasionally interrupted my speech. I let it be. It was a free country, and they had every right to air their grievances against me, annoying as it was. I listened as two of the councilors, including Vogel, did their speech about the need for a strong diplomatic alliance and the welcomed contributions that the alien’s technology would provide to humanity; again, another standard affair.

If I weren’t on stage with every angle covered by all the cameras, I would have fallen asleep already. If I had my phone, I’d look up YouTube videos.

Forerunner, Prime interrupted in my head. There’s been a problem.

I froze. What?

The airport has been breached. The protesters are storming the tarmac. Shall we respond?

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I looked around, and a few police officers had their ears trained on their radios. The ensuing chaos had also notified them; a few had already rushed to control the unwelcome crowd. Still, Zurich airport was a big place. It might take them fifteen minutes just to run to where we were now—enough time for Vogel to finish his speech—if they could get past the Swiss police, the legionnaires, and the Praetorian Knights.

Let the local police handle it. We don’t want to escalate things, but send the drones to form a perimeter sweep. Observation only.

Yes, forerunner. I will notify you of further development, Prime said.

Vogel was halfway through his speech, and it didn’t seem like it would end soon. I anxiously wanted to return to my ship and get these people back to Segerstrom Station. Cutting off his remarks would be seen as rude, and I am already on thin ice by most of the world leaders, waiting for a chance for my next fuck-up.

I motioned for Alonso to approach. “Heard about the breach?” Alonso asked.

I nodded. “Take the princes back to the shuttle and keep them there.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine—”

Suddenly, I heard it; the sound of a car engine approaching.

To my right, A white pickup truck darted from behind a Boeing 767, barreling toward the crowd while several police cars chasing them. Everyone’s heads turned toward the noise, and even Vogel blubbered, frozen from the interruption.

Then everything happened so fast.

During those first six seconds, I couldn’t even make a sound as the truck careened through the crowd, barreling forward until it collided with a solid metal barrier, causing the hood and the engine to distort and warp around it. The truck’s momentum finally halted; blood splattered across its wake. The crowd screamed and scattered.

A loud gunshot rang out, and Vogel’s body crumpled like a ragdoll behind the podium. Eyes were blank and empty, a bloody hole inches above the bridge of his nose.

I noticed the revolver first, but it wasn’t pointed at me but at my brothers, coming from the policeman below the stage. I couldn’t forget his eyes, seething with unbridled hatred and unwavering determination. Time slowed down as he squeezed the trigger.

On instinct, I jumped in front of Daniel and Isaac, shielding them, but I didn’t feel the bullet enter my body. Instead, I heard the bullet shatter upon impact on my shields. The officer relentlessly pulled the trigger one after another, but the shields blocked the next four shots. I didn’t know if it was shock or the audacity to assassinate me and my family, but I stood, rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed upon him.

Silence settled like a suffocating blanket, broken only by the rapid thumping of my heart and the faint sound of my brother’ gasps for air. Time resumed its relentless march forward, urging me to act.

The officer froze, mouth agape; disbelief etched upon his face. Daniel, Isaac, and I should be dead with those five bullets aimed at our heads, necks, and chests. He fired again, heard the unmistakable click of an empty weapon, and then Smitty, Tom, and Kyle ran from his flank and slammed against him, pinning him down to the ground.

Five men stepped out from the truck, throwing smoke grenades at the crowd and shouting something in German. Prime’s translator quickly kicked in. “Traitors! All Traitors!” They screamed. “The Segerstroms must die!” They shot at the fleeing crowd. Several went down.

Jason, Amelia, and my father grabbed my arms, trying to get me back to the shuttle, but people were injured and needed my help. They needed nanites. Anger bubbled up my throat, and I shouted for them to get off and let me go. They were strong, but I was stronger.

I pushed Daniel and Isaac into their arms. “Get them out of here now!”

“What about you?” Amelia asked.

“Dad, Amelia, please! Get the boys back to the shuttle!”

I turned around and commanded the nanites inside of me to focus on the soles of my boots. The nanites seeped from my skin and the nanite box on my belt, concentrated beneath my feet, and I floated off the ground toward the truck. This distracted the gunmen momentarily from their constant shouting, reveling in the chaos they had caused, but no doubt surprised that I could fly.

I wanted them dead.

I shouldn’t be surprised when they pulled out their guns and aimed them at me. In an instant, the man who screamed traitor caught something at my periphery before half his head exploded, bits of his blood and brain splayed across the truck’s mangled hood. Uncle Nathan had fired the shot and ducked behind the stage for cover. Alonso quickly covered my back and shot the other man, trying to run away. Half of his torso was missing.

I triggered [Cloud Barrier].

One ducked behind the truck while I rushed toward the other, firing at me, but my nanites quickly blocked the bullets. I slammed him against the door, grabbed his head, and smashed his face against the side view mirror. The man staggered back and dropped to his knees, clutching his face in agony, trying to pry the pieces of broken glass stuck on his cheeks. I took out my short sword, the ceramic fiber glowing orange hot, but the man was quicker, opening the driver’s side door to block my swing.

It didn’t.

The heat blade cut through the metal like a knife on butter, slicing it in half. I had to thank the quartz for inspiring me to create the weapon. The tip caught him by the chest and scorched his shirt open. I marched forward as the man struggled to get up, but his legs betrayed him, and he fell on his butt.

“No! No!” He begged.

I took another swing and cut off his head clean.

I pushed upward and flew up to the truck’s roof. There I met the eyes of the fourth man, having witnessed the other’s decapitation. He must have seen how I looked and knew I wouldn’t let him live. He ran, but I sent my nanites after him. They wrapped around his neck and dangled him five feet off the ground. He tried to aim his gun at me, but I swatted it away easily.

“Enough!” I said. “Who sent you?”

He struggled to catch a breath, but it was no mistake that this man hated me. What have I ever done to him? They should leave my family out of this if they wanted me dead. This seemed like a coordinated attack. The policeman, the truck, the attack on these civilians, and I had no doubt he knew who the policeman was.

I heard a pin drop and clattered onto the tarmac. I followed where it came from and quickly spotted the grenade dangling on the man’s belt. Scrambling, I ordered the nanites to fly up to the sky. He barely reached a hundred feet before he exploded, raining guts and blood across the tarmac.

The ringing in my ears overwhelmed me. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. Was that blood on my fingertips? A piece of flesh stuck between the strings of my boots? I killed them. The words echoed in my head. I killed them. I walked back toward the stage and caught a glimpse of the man’s head that I had decapitated, rolling on the ground, kicked by the fleeing crowd like a football, and I almost wanted to puke.

I did that, I thought. That’s me who killed him.

I was a Marine for seven years, but I’ve only made three confirmed kills from insurgents during my service abroad. Sure, I’ve fired many shots, but it had been years since the last man I killed. It was still hard to stomach having to take a life. And with the forerunner’s power coursing within me, I killed them in thirty seconds. Not within seven years.

My head spun.

Then, a shadow loomed over me.

The fifth gunman!

I turned around. He didn’t have a gun with him, but instead, he raised a machete over his head, ready to strike me down. The first thing I thought about was that I never tested the shields against blades, only by ranged propellants like guns. I was behind the truck, and both Uncle Nathan, Alonso, and the other knights did not have a clean shot against my attacker.

I was about to activate another [Cloud Barrier], but a huge, towering man lunged forward and grabbed the assailant’s wrist, twisting it with an unyielding force that the machete fell from his grip. He struck the back of the assailant’s legs with his knee, bringing him down to his knees. With the machete now in this giant’s hand, he yanked the man’s hair back, exposing his neck, and made a clean slice to the bone.

A crimson torrent erupted, staining the cold pavement. I stood transfixed, my breath caught in my throat as the fifth gunman writhed on the ground, clutching his bleeding neck, fighting for his last gasps of air. Time seemed to slow as his life ebbed away, a mere handful of seconds between him and death.

Alonso and three more knights rushed behind the truck and aimed the rifle at the giant.

“Stop,” I commanded.

Alonso eyed the stranger warily, resting his finger close to the trigger. Uncle Nathan jogged toward us.

Another man, lanky and much shorter than the giant, rushed from the crowd. “He’s with me! He’s with me! He’s harmless!” Then, his eyes landed on the dying man on the tarmac. “Oof. Mostly harmless.”

I didn’t expect the giant to drop to one knee suddenly and bow his head to me. “Your grace,” he said. “I serve.”

Alonso lowered his rifle now and raised his eyebrow at me.

The other man forced a smile and walked over to the giant. “Drum, get the fuck up, man.”

“He’s emperor,” the giant—Drum—said. “Pay respects.”

“It’s alright,” I said. “Er, you can get up now. Drum, is it?”

Drum got up. “Yes.”

I looked down at the fifth gunman’s body. “That’s not your first time.”

Drum spared no hint of a smile. “Former Army Rangers. My brother—” He pointed to the other man, “—Cole. Not Ranger.”

He had an odd way of speaking about him, but I quickly spotted the scars on his head, where a mottled patch of hair grew. I suspected some brain damage right away. Combat injury, I guessed.

“Thank you.”

Drum grunted. “Anything for the emperor. My service.”

I nodded. “You’re one of the immigrants?”

“Yes, your grace,” Cole said, bowing his head. “We were watching when the truck plowed into the crowd.”

The crowd. My people. “Fuck.”

Cole held his expression when I cussed all of a sudden. Drum remained impassive as a stone.

As the smoke cleared, I approached a man cradling an injured little boy of no more than eight; his arm bent and broken. Many were injured, and I was afraid some did not make it.

“Prime, send out the medical team and get these people into the med bay quickly. Prioritize the most injured. Send the fleet within close orbit, just in case.”

Right away, forerunner, Prime said in my head. Your heart rate has spiked. Shall I send a medical unit to attend to you?

“No. That won’t be necessary.”

“We got one of them in custody,” Uncle Nathan said.

He and I walked over to Kyle, Tom, and Smitty, still pinning the policeman on the ground. The other Praetorian Knights quickly gathered around me, scanning the crowd for more attackers. The councilors' guards were checking on Vogel, but it just confirmed to me that he was already dead.

The policeman tried to murder my brothers, but I let my rage temper as I crouched down and picked up his badge and ID. I looked at his name: Oskar Fuchs. I asked Prime to run his badge number, but the sixty-year-old Oskar Fuchs I saw on the hologram was not the man in his late thirties lying in front of me.

I leaned close to his ear. “Who are you?”

The man gritted between his teeth. “The true humans.”

“I said, who the fuck are you?”

The man began to spew something under his breath, but I only caught a few sentences in German about humanity’s true inheritors and those who wanted to betray our kind. In their eyes, I was a traitor—a sellout who had bartered our species’ fate to our alien oppressors, exploiting their advanced technology.

“You’re just a pitiful insect ensnared in the jaws of a carnivorous plant,” he sneered in German, the venom in his words thickening the air around us. “While you still have the chance, save yourself the disgrace and end your life.”

Tom grimaced. His translator kicked in. “What should we do with him?”

I stood up. “Bring him to the fucking ship.”