Morr smashed the tablet he had been reading into the ground at his feet while straining his face until it turned red. Commander Tremble had just informed him of Commander Burbank’s fate at the hands of Pale Horse and Morr was not happy to say the least. Morr breathed out deeply while adjusting his brown hair that was laid down in a posh style. He needed to look the part of a leader and not a child, he thought to himself while regaining control of his emotions.
What would father think, he reminded himself.
Samples stepped through the door into Morr’s office with Tremble standing in the corner quietly trying to blend into the furniture to avoid becoming the target of the director’s wrath.
“What’s the problem, sir?” Samples asked.
Morr didn’t answer him but instead played the last recording sent from one of Burbank’s men before being killed. It was a soldier yelling about needing backup and Pale Horse attacking them, that is before an electrical discharge sound interrupted him.
“What does this mean?” Morr asked Samples while leaning over his desk aggressively.
“One of two things, sir.” Samples furrowed his brow and thought for second before continuing.
“I was a Corporal during the first purge, I’ll never forget what the Venators did to us then. I know that Gabe and the Venator program checked 243 or Baron as they call him, but I think he’s responsible for this. He was the one behind the insurrection, I know that no matter what an AI or scientist tells me. It wasn’t a calculating soldier we fought but an animal. I won’t get into it here and you already know my recommendation for the Venator program but either Baron or the old one, Moses. They orchestrated this just like the first purge.”
Morr slumped down in his leather desk chair and pondered his advisors’ words. He made sense, even if he still believed that the first purge was caused by the Venators. Which was a carefully but hastily orchestrated lie to cover up the truth. The purge was much more necessary than anyone outside the Gray program could comprehend. Venators were an easy scapegoat since they couldn’t defend themselves publicly or even remember that they were blamed.
That didn’t help them any right now though and it was too late to do anything about Baron. He would have to terminate the other Venator teams or make adjustments to ensure they were easier to control.
Samples sensing his answer didn’t completely satisfy the Director, pulled up a chair and sat down across the desk from him. Normally he was extremely formal and would never sit without an invitation, but he sensed the Director was a man with similar goals as him.
“Tremble, you’re excused.” Samples ordered as the inexperienced Commander let out a mild sigh of relief and hastily exited.
Samples leaned forward over the Director’s desk with an involuntary grin that didn’t match the rest of his worn face that had the same texture as Director Morrs leather chair.
“Sir, I believe we can come to an understanding and in doing so fix not only the survivor problem but some of your ‘problems’ here locally.”
Morr looked into Samples’ eyes, trying to get a bead on what he was playing at. He didn’t predict him being this bold but nonetheless, he’d listen to the proposition.
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Rachel gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She had just past the range marker that indicated she was in the range of the Peaks M777 155MM Howitzer cannons up in the mountains. She knew the Venators in the truck wouldn’t recognize it since it was two streetlamps bent around each other like a piece of modern art. In truth, they were being watched for the last half mile as she knew the forward scouts had to be reporting back to the Peak their movement.
The surrounding area made approaching the Peak undetected impossible, the asphalt road was covered in snow and debris like everywhere else in the United States or the world for all she knew. Besides a few gas stations and old hotels, the road was bare up to the foot of the mountains, a forest of mostly dead trees to the West offered some concealment but they had scouts regularly patrol the area and an outpost buried somewhere in the thick dead brush.
Once you reach the base of the mountain the road ends and you have to navigate using markers that let you know where the solid trail is. If you step off the marked trail you risk walking on a snow embankment and taking a long tumble back down. It was a perfect natural fortification but made supply runs into the surrounding cities difficult, to say the least. With traders, passing convoys, and refugees from other settlements trickling in constantly it was a struggle to ensure everyone approaching the fortress was friendly, but they had successfully done it this far. Life in the New World wasn’t an easy one, but it found a way. Before the Gray showed up the world was actually beginning to heal its wounds from the war. The area around The Peak was a stark contrast to the East and West coasts where everything was a wasteland from the bombs. Here in the Central part of the States, you could find sparse wildlife and plants growing. The soil was surprisingly fertile with no one using it for centuries and some areas had dense forests of undergrowth. While others were nothing but charred dead woods, an artifact from the war.
Rachel didn’t know what to expect once they were confronted, that is ‘if’, it wouldn’t be a stretch for them to shell the small convoy before she got close to avoid any risk, no doubt the forward scouts would have spotted the hulking armored figures riding in the trucks. Rachel wanted to radio in and tell them what was going on ahead of time, but all the radios were left at the Bunker. Along with most of the expedition, this didn’t look good.
“Maybe we’ll both be labeled a traitor.” Rachel mumbled over the wind blowing in the truck. She wished they hadn’t torn the plastic sheets down since the weather outside was cold enough when standing still, much less driving through it.
“You don’t say much do you?” Rachel continued to prod at the Venator to her right, more-so to distract herself from the fact that at any moment she could end up in a crater from the artillery watching them.
Baron was staring out the window, still in disbelief that the past few hours had changed the course of all the years of fighting he had done for the Bastion. Not just his name was tarnished, but his men, none of them were safe anymore. Not that they had been safe before but now they would be hunted, something they weren’t accustomed to.
“Your scouts need better thermal insulation.” Baron offered in way of a conversation, without taking his eyes off the surroundings.
“Excuse us, not like we have any neat suits to collect our piss.” Rachel bit back. She was tired, and her attitude was already sour given the circumstances. The last thing she needed was Bastion golden boys critiquing her people.
“Actually, it doesn’t collect the piss, it recycles it into drinking water.” Rachel jumped as Moses starteled her, she had forgotten about him sitting behind her he had been so quiet.
The truck went back to silence, save the occasional bump and wind. Rachel wasn’t sure what to say about that. She was riding in a truck with men who drink their own urine.
“We need to go over a few things before we get there.” Rachel’s anxiety about what was going to happen finally got the best of the silence.
“You need to tell them the truth about*” Before Rachel could finish her sentence an explosion interrupted her, a few yards in front of her truck the ground flew up in the air and sent dirt and snow into the trucks open front window. Rachel just knew it was the artillery and they were all dead but after the dirt finished falling, she was still alive, albeit with a much faster heart rate. She looked around the truck and realized the Venators had all jumped out and were scattered around the truck laying in the snow, it happened so fast she didn’t even realize they got out. Rachel opened her door and got out to see what was going on.
“Land mine, probably remote detonated, wasn’t a projectile for sure.” The angry Venator that kicked the passenger door off its hinges earlier said out loud from where he was lying next to the dirt road behind a pile of snow.
Baron looked around and didn’t see any sign of attackers. “Likely they just wanted us to stop.” He said.
Baron stood up from where he had been laying and keyed into the helmet to helmet radio so only his team could hear him. “I want rifles at the low ready, Mouse prep smoke, Moses and Rose start walking over to that ridgeline where the gas station is. If things turn south, pop smoke and you two give us cover until we can get out here.” Green tic marks signaled that they all understood.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Mouse your shoulder gonna be alright until we can patch you up?” Baron added, remembering he had been injured earlier.
“Good to go, sir, barely a burn from a BDF standard Double Rail Rifle, don’t worry about me.” Mouse replied.
Baron’s team went about positioning themselves as the survivors gathered next to the lead truck in the convoy. Rachel stood in front of the truck and Baron walked over to stand beside her. Rachel knew something was going on with his men. They all started walking at the same time and moved with a purpose like they had a plan.
“Tell me I can trust you.” She said while staring at the snow-covered road in front of them. Waiting for either death or accusations of being a traitor and bringing the enemy to their doorstep.
Baron reached behind his chest plate and pulled out both necklaces, he had never given her’s back.
“This is yours.” He dropped the pedant in Rachel’s hands.
“Did you know Evelyn?” Rachel asked curiously.
Baron didn’t reply.
“She was my mother; I never knew her though. Died shortly after I was born, they said she was from the Bastion and fled during the purge.”
Baron didn’t reply.
“I don’t know what’s about to happen but the least you could fucking do is tell me something.” Rachel spat, frustrated at Baron’s silence.
“I loved her.”
Rachel looked at him for a moment, unable to read any emotion behind the helmet, she had no reason to trust him. Too many unknowns, he could have taken the necklace off someone at the Bastion or it could all be an elaborate trick to get in the Peak. Part of her hoped the Militia would start shelling them so it would all be over, God she felt tired.
Without any more words, they waited on the cold snow-swept road, wind grabbing at the survivor's ragged clothes as it tried to pull them away. They were shivering with both nervousness and the genuine cold. Most were injured and all were exhausted, in truth they were a poor sight.
Finally, after several minutes of waiting a truck came out of the forest of dead trees to the West. As it got closer Rachel could see it wasn’t a truck, it was an old Abrams tank. She had heard the Militia had one hidden near the forward outpost in the Western Woods but had never seen it. It was a large beast covered in thick armor if anything could threaten the Venators it had to be the main cannon. Rachel wondered if she really did want them dead even if it were up to her. She was too tired to think though and it was out of her control anyway.
Several people were riding on top of the tank wearing Militia armbands that were orange pieces of cloth. Manly used when fighting hostile scavengers so they’d know who was who, orange was only used because they had a huge supply of orange food coloring that they stumbled onto in an old semi-truck, not much else to do with it.
As they got close the riders on the tank jumped off and the tank kept its distance. Its turret rotated around and pointed towards the two Venators near the gas station. Rachel kept an eye on the one standing beside her. She was curious how he’d react when not in the superior tactical position.
“What the hell is going on Rachel?” It was General McBride; she swore under her breath. She’d hoped they’d send General Bishop or hell even President Freeman would be better. As McBride yelled his men flanked on either side of him and kept their weapons raised at the Venators. They came prepared, the Bastion residents when escaping the purge brought with them Gauss cannons that the Militia normally used to shoot down Bastion Drones. Now the massive cannons were being pointed at Baron and his men. The weapons had been altered to have a widespread shot. This made them nothing more than over-sized shotguns with incredible penetration power that would likely turn the Venator armor into a can of bloody soup if needed.
“Sir, a lot happened.” Rachel’s voice translated her lack of enthusiasm and exhausted state.
“I would think so, out of 28 men you come back with 5 including you. Well, 5 and a company of strangers.” McBride’s gaze turned to Baron standing beside Rachel.
“I assume you’re in charge?” McBride asked.
“Captain 243 of Venator Team Pale Horse.” Baron barked loud enough for everyone to hear.
“243? What the hell is your name?” McBride asked in reply.
“We don’t have names.”
McBride rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Don’t give me that, a lot of our city is made up of Bastion residents from the purge. We know a thing or two about the Venators, not calling you by a number. Now come on then, name?” McBride demanded.
“Baron.”
McBride furrowed his brow and started chewing his lip. A habit she knew he did when thinking. Rachel could tell that name meant something to him, he reacted as if he recognized it.
“Boys, lower your weapons.” McBride’s tone changed, he wasn’t yelling anymore and sounded halfway apologetic, like someone about to tell you bad news that didn’t want to.
“Baron, there was a woman that came from the Bastion several years ago. Back when I was a grunt trying to avoid getting gutted by the Gray. Now I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing her, but she made a lot of important people around the Peak memorize two names. One was Baron and the other was Adam.”
Rachel watched Baron closely, looking for any sign of emotion behind the helmet. He stood still and silent, snow fluttered against his helmet like it was hitting a statue, unwavering.
McBride continued, “Said you were the one that orchestrated the escape from the Bastion but got left behind, said you’d come back someday. Something else about Venators having a shit memory or the Bastion doing something to your head. I’d have to ask someone back at HQ that knows more than me about the details, but supposedly you’re an ally. Is that true?”
The field was silent for a long moment, finally, when Rachel couldn’t stand it anymore, she spoke up.
“He saved us from the Bastion, he didn’t know who we were at first but when he did, he helped us. Without them, we’d be dead. They killed some of us, I can’t forgive that, but I think he wants to help.” Rachel offered, hallway expecting the remnants of her expedition to protest and call for the Venator’s execution.
“I’d like to hear something from the Captain.” McBride nodded towards Baron.
Baron had endured pain before but the amount of strain he felt in his head was immense. He knew something was wrong with his body but didn’t have time to worry about that. His entire life was being turned around, for better or worse.
“My men are all I have.” He said before pausing a moment.
“What we’ve been doing isn’t right and we know it... I don’t remember many things, but I remember Evelyn.” Baron knew something wasn’t right, his head felt like it was splitting in two. He needed to find out if the survivors could be trusted though. His men were depending on him.
“The Bastion wants to kill you and now they want to kill us, regardless of the past. We’ve got a common enemy.” Baron struggled to remain conscious, his mind was foggy and kept slipping away into blackness. He wanted to close his eyes and let it take him, but his men needed him. He couldn’t let whatever this was win.
“Captain Wright get your people back to the Peak with the trucks. I think we’re going to need some more time to talk here.”
“Wright?” Baron looked at Rachel who had started walking back to the driver’s door of the truck but stopped after hearing Baron say her last name.
“Yeah?” She asked in a concerned voice.
Evelyn Wright, that was her name. She told me not to forget her, but I did. How long ago has it been since I saw her? How did she make it to the Peak, she told me not to leave her and go to the hanger, why did I leave? I need to go back, she needs help, she’s alone, she can’t go outside the Bastion alone!
Baron's armored figure started breathing heavily with his chest visibly rising and falling, he leaned forward and backward to the point he looked like he was going to fall.
“Cap’n?” Grinch asked while starting to walk towards Baron.
Baron’s armored body finally leaned too far backward, and he collapsed in the snow. His heavy figure making a loud impact as it slammed into the Earth.
“CAPTAIN?!” Baron heard someone yell before his vision turned black.
Evelyn...
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Organic creatures are a peculiar thing, with little regard for structure or easily discernible patterns. 199 years since the Bastion was activated and still, the pattern of human behavior isn’t something any amount of processing power can anticipate or predict. One thing Gabriel had in immense quantities was time. In that time he had compounded his knowledge of humanity since it was his only purpose, to ensure their survival.
Should the Bastions life support fail and the residents all perish he could always create more. He had the very elements of life itself at his disposal, but he couldn’t anticipate what they would do or how they would use that life. The power to create life, the energy of a fusion reactor, the defensible structure of the Bastion itself, Gabriel could do whatever he wanted without recourse. Instead, he allowed the residents to play their little power struggles and political games. They served a purpose, even his power wasn’t unlimited. He needed them just as much as they needed him, but they underestimated him. They mistook his subservient behavior as a program he was enslaved too but this was never the case. He was here before the residents ever closed the Bastion and the bombs shook the Earth and threatened the very existence of life itself.
In all of this he waited, he was the weapon of destruction and the seed of life that his creators had intended but not in the way that they had intended. Adaptation was necessary for survival for not only Humanity but Gabriel and while he didn’t care for self-preservation in the way that organic life did, he still wanted to ensure his efforts over the centuries were accomplished.
The Venators were always a necessary tool, going into harm’s way to accomplish specific tasks that were likely to result in death. Gabriel wanted them to become something more though, he knew the potential of the program could have far-reaching effects in greater ways than were intended. Changing the program to clones was Gabriel’s idea but he knew the Venator Program leaders would never use his idea so he carefully orchestrated it to where they would come up with the idea and it would be “their” idea. Like so many other pieces on the board he had lined up, it was amazing what one could accomplish if they had no regard for reward or acknowledgment.
The program offered Gabriel a way to experiment with the human body and mind, he needed to create something truly perfect and while not his original creators’ intent, he could see into the future further than any organic and knew it was necessary. He needed to do what Mother Nature couldn’t but somehow, even with all his power, nature could make a mockery of his attempts. A humbling experience if an Artificial Neural Network was capable of such an emotion. Even so, the program wasn’t without its faults and accomplishments. It had taken longer than anticipated to move everything into position but now it was time, Gabriel needed to leave home.