First Contact

Chapter 961: The Shadows of Twilight

For most species, the question "How far will you go to survive" is and always has been an intellectual exercise in morality and ethics.

For humans, it's called "Tuesday decisions." - Pubvian Analyst

For you, the day I planet cracked your homeworld while you stared on in horror was the most defining point in your life.

For me, it was Tuesday. - General Raul Manuel Bison, Age of Wrath supervillain and Imperium Lord Knight

You better kill me, because if I get loose, I will not only kill you, I'll do in front of your kids and tell them that Daddy was bad. - Miguel "Iron Mike" Jaunita McBaine, Age of Warsteel Mythical Anti-Hero

In the end, it didn't matter who was right or wrong, just who was left. - Def.Kret, Welkret Historian, Second Precursor War Post-Reconstruction Phase

How was did it effect society when we discovered that which we had dismissed as ancient legends from a confused and barbaric time were true?

It was catastrophic. - Reflixark, Tnvaru, Former Senator, academic, meditative

Nakteti felt the hand on the back of her head. Gentle, caring. It filled her with gentle warmth and a feeling of peace. She didn't bother holding back tears. She felt the hand leave her head and looked up.

Surscee and Chuck were kneeling.

Magnus stood by the Sword Knight, his back straight, one hand on the armored figure's chest, his hand slowly putting his dagger back into the sheathe.

The Digital Omnimessiah touched Chuck, whose code flickered and danced, then Surscee who, like Nakteti, was silently weeping. He then moved to Magnus.

"Stay thy gentle hand, Magnus," the Digital Omnimessiah said softly.

"Help them," Magnus said. "They're infants controlled by dead men. Help them, otherwise, what good am I? What good are we? What good are you?"

Nakteti noted that Magnus's eyes had a dull crimson glow in the depths.

"May I touch him?" the Digital Omnimessiah asked.

Magnus nodded jerkily.

The hand of swirling code touched the armor.

A long silent moment passed.

The Digital Omnimessiah moved to each of the armors, touching them for a long moment, before moving on.

Finally, the figure of swirling code moved to the side of the room, looking at the occupants.

He shook his head sadly.

"There is little left of the child," he said. "It would better that those who did this terrible thing would have had a millstone tied around their neck and then tossed into the sea. The act of what was done to them was a grievous sin."

Magnus just nodded stiffly. Chuck and Surscee and Nakteti had gotten to the feet to watch.

Nakteti felt her stomach twist.

"This will require more than just I," the Digital Omnimessiah said. "Those that I work through are suited to such."

The Digital Omnimessiah merely glanced at the corner.

Nakteti took a step back as the warsteel of the corner of the medbay suddenly bulged, the thick coating of white enamel fracturing and crazing. The cracks began to drip red blood and smoke eked from the cracks. There was the sound of great bronze doors thundering open, the rattle of iron chains, and the smell of brimstone.

Two clawed hands pushed from the cracks, enamel falling to the floor. The hands pulled the wall apart, making room for a great horned head, with bestial features, burning red eyes, and a fanged maw that drooled liquid fire.

The great beast stepped into the medical center, the wall warping and twisting back into shape, the enamel gone, laying on the floor, but twisting runes remaining on the warsteel.

Nakteti held tight to her courage, pushing down the urge to scream and flee. She saw Chuck flinch slightly, saw the trickle of sweat down Surscee's temple and how Magnus tensed.

"What?" the great beast asked, staring at the Digital Omnimessiah. "This better be good."

"There are souls in need of redemption and succor," the Digital Omnimessiah said calmly. "I would that my son Vat Born Luke examine them so that I may succor them," he waved at the four armors.

"Hmph," the beast side. It moved forward on cloven hoofs of brimstone shod warsteel, shaking a burning iron chain whip out to let it drag on the floor.

It moved up and touched the Knight of the Tome.

Less than a second later the head turned to stare at Nakteti, eyes going from burning amber to bright crimson. A snarl appeared on the bestial features.

Its eyes went from crimson to cold gray.

The great beast shrunk suddenly, melting, reshifting, changing.

A short, plump, matronly Terran woman stood in the beast's place. She wore a dark suit, her hair was black and cut short, her face was stern and her eyes gun-metal gray. She had a small enameled pin with red and white stripes on one lapel, polished black heels, and cufflinks that shone and glittered.

"Who did this?" the woman snarled. She took a step toward Nakteti, making a twisting motion with her hand. A long thin square blade dropped from her sleeve and into her hand. "Who. Did. This?"

Nakteti stepped back, the Terran matron more fearsome than the great beast.

"Tell me who did this. Tell me now," the woman snarled. "Was it you?"

She turned and stared at the others. "Was it this glittering mongoloid?" she pointed the knife at Chuck. "Or this mouth breathing imbecile? What about Braless Tits McGee here?" She pointed the knifepoint at Magnus then Surscee before whirling around to look at the Digital Omnimessiah. "Who. Did. This?"

"An evil from nine thousand years ago," the Digital Omnimessiah said gently. "They are beyond your wrath."

The woman snarled, making her face ugly. "We'll see about that."

"Perhaps my son should examine them," the Digital Omnimessiah said.

The woman said nothing, just vanished in a puff of smoke. When it cleared, a thin, androgynous looking male Terran with brown skin stood in her place.

"Father," the Terran said, going down on one knee.

The Digital Omnimessiah moved up and touched the kneeling man's forehead. "Arise, my son."

The man slowly stood up, looking around. "She's almost incoherent with rage. What's the problem?"

"These four tortured children," the Digital Omnimessiah said. "We cannot breach their armor lest they perish."

The man, Vat-Grown Luke, nodded, moving up and touching the Knight of the Tome.

He blinked several times.

"Oh my. I see why she's so angry," Luke said. He shook his head. "Template layer impressioning. Fetal tissue genetically modified. Chronotron stabilization," as he shook his head again three more of him moved off to stand next to the others, laying his hand on their chests. "I see what went wrong," he said.

The Digital Omnimessiah simply smiled sadly.

After a long moment the other three moved back and merged with the first, who slowly moved to the medical scanners, bringing up the holographic interface. Nakteti could see it flickering as the menus were jumped through. She glanced at Chuck and saw that the Digital Sentience looked startled at the rate the Terran was going through the data.

After a long moment he moved away from the console after dismissing everything with a wave of his hand.

Nakteti noted that he looked tired, like his shoulders were bowed by a heavy weight.

He knelt down in front of the Digital Omnimessiah, staring at the floor.

"What desperation made us do," he whispered.

Nakteti saw tears fall to the floor.

"What was coerced with force or threats lay on the heads of those who made the demands more than the hands that performed the deed," the Digital Omnimessiah said gently.

"The techniques, they predate me, predate you, Father," Luke said. "They reek of desperation," Luke seemed to lean forward slightly, pressing his forehead against the Digital Omnimessiah's hand. "Creche babies, designer children, are the base organic component. Local SUDS copies were impressed, as well as early generation RNA memory injection serums."

"Is there enough left of the child to save?" the Digital Omnimessiah asked.

Luke gave a low, pained chuckle, a self-mocking laugh that Nakteti had heard from herself more than once.

"Funnily enough, it is the child that caused the templates to start unraveling," he said. He closed his eyes. "The chronotron system was supposed to keep the organic tissue from maturing, supposed to keep the RNA memory injections from degrading, but the chronotron system kept failing."

"How so?" Chuck asked.

Luke heaved a breath. "Fetus and infants are known for rapid cell division, rapid growth, their neural tissue especially," he gave a slight smile. "It's why their heads are so heavy and they nap so often. It's tiring growing that fast when you're that little."

Luke stood up slowly, reaching down and tugging on the cuffs of his suit. "The chronotron stabilization system kept getting disrupted. Not long. Seconds, minutes, an hour here and there," he said. "But long enough for cell division to keep occurring, cell division not controlled by the system."

He moved over to the Tome Knight. "The tissues couldn't be fully locked, they needed to be able to form memories, carry out complex tasks, which are often a function of memory. That meant that they were forming new memories," he shuddered. "I've seen the REM combat system before," he sighed. "I know what it did to the man who used it."

Nakteti moved up and put a catching hand over the Terran's hand.

"Are they beyond even your help, Luke?" She asked softly.

The slender bald Terran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No with an although, Yes with a but," he said, his voice quiet and tired sounding. He opened his eyes and looked down at Nakteti. "The children, the babies, they will need the touch of my Father, then the not-so-gentle ministrations of, well, the Devil as well as my care."

The Digital Omnimessiah got a slight smile. "She does what she does in the service of us all," he said.

"So, they have to die to be reborn?" Magnus asked. Nakteti noted that his fists were clenched.

"Anyone else, and you would be correct," Luke said, turning away from Nakteti. "I can repair the genetic damage," he looked at Magnus. "I can repair the living tissue, the biological component. Remove the RNA memory serum effects. The Devil can root out the templates, tear them free from the infant's mind, leave nothing of the Combine soldiers. It will be painful," he put his hand back on the Knight of the Black Rose's chest. "But babies have a tendency to forget pain."

He turned, his hand sliding off the armored chest, and stared at the Digital Omnimessiah.

"I can do this. We can do this."

The Digital Omnimessiah smiled.

"Then let us begin," he said, moving forward.

-----

Magnus sat on the log at the edge of the orchard, staring at the Rigellian white peach in his hand, thinking about what had transpired. What he had seen.

The rage, the ever present rage, simmered inside of him.

He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled, held it, then exhaled just as slowly, willing the rage to subside, as his mother had taught him, taught all of her children.

As she had taught them iron clad values.

There was no one left to blame. All who had done that monstrous thing were long dead. Thousands of years dead. If not on some forgotten battlefield, then time itself had wiped them away. Their names were forgotten, their deeds crumbled, their crimes washed away by the endless tide of time.

It didn't change how angry he felt.

He had never had children. He had thought about it. Thought about finding a bride. Maybe even setting aside his blade and becoming a craftsman or farmer. Maybe even an innkeeper, tavernkeeper, or storekeeper.

There were many things he could do, with a bride and children. Good, honorable professions.

But he was sworn to the Lady Nakteti and the thought of children had been wiped away by the grim necessity of duty.

It was a burden he had willingly accepted.

But he had always loved children. His siblings, the children of friends and allies, even small children of the folk he met along his travels and adventures.

In his dreams, he was a husband and father.

He had been over a hundred years old, still a young adult, when he had sworn his blade and his life to Lady Nakteti.

He knew he still had time. He intended on questing, searching for another living Terran, a woman who could accept him and that he could accept. Intended on, once his duty to Lady Nakteti was done, to search her out no matter how far he had to travel and no matter what dangers he had to face.

The malevolent universe would not grant a bride to one such as him without a fight.

He closed his eyes and took another set of long breaths.

The rage didn't cool, it just was pushed down, pushed away.

There was a rumbling under his boots and his hand went up over his shoulder, his hand reaching for his blade, even as he stood up, the peach forgotten as he dropped it to the ground and turned around.

The great beast was heaving itself up, out of where the dirt had been pushed away by smoking rock and stone. Lava shown in the cracks, and pleading hands reached out of the lava to grasp at the huge figure.

It pulled itself free, took a moment to stomp down the pleading hands, then let the iron chain whip fall from one hand, the barbed links glowing sullenly with twisting runes. It flapped its huge bat wings twice then folded them behind its back.

"You dropped your peach," it rumbled.

"I have indeed," Magnus said.

He watched as the huge figure moved over to one of the trees, reaching up almost daintily and picking a ripe white peach. It moved over to Magnus and stared down at him.

"Are you going to sit down or stand there with your sword half drawn, you Great Value Conan?" it asked, its bass voice vibrating Magnus's bones.

Magnus just smiled, letting go of his blade, turning around, and sitting down.

As he bent down to get the peach, he saw a pair of legs clad in dark charcoal gray slacks step over the log. He noted that her shoes were polished, the heels just over an inch tall, with silver buckles on them. The crease in the pants was sharp enough to shave with and the cuffs were perfect.

Magnus straightened up, hefting the peach, and looked next to him.

The matron sat there, staring at the peach in her hand.

"You would make a good Hell Knight," she said.

Her voice was rough, smoky, the kind of voice singers would kill for if it didn't hold a razor's edge of cruelty in its depths.

"Thank you," Magnus said.

"I could send you out to punish the guilty, kill the sinner, enforce my will upon the living," she said. She picked at the leaves on the stem of the fruit. "None of the weakness you are forced to show now. You could be the armored fist, the terrible swift sword of my wrath."

"My service is already pledged," Magnus said.

"To an alien. What of your own people?" the matron asked.

"To break my oaths to her, alien or not, would name me Oath Breaker, and no man would trust me, every hand would be raised against me, and would betray all that I am," Magnus said.

The matron nodded. "It was worth a try," she said. She set the peach in the divot where her legs pressed together and dug out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and exhaling smoke.

"I tempted Daxin with the same offer for three days and three nights," she said conversationally. "Like you, he denied me."

She shook her head. "Like you, he saw redemption in humanity."

There was silence for long moments, broken only by Magnus munching on the peach and the Lady Lord of Hell slowly smoking her cigarette.

A dragonfly danced among the small flowers in the grass around the log.

"I killed them all, just so you know," she said suddenly.

Magnus just stayed silent.

"Not because of those lost souls. No. I didn't know of them then," she said. "It was personal. They took me, tortured me. Forced me to do terrible things," she lifted her chin and exhaled smoke into the air. "I waited, watching for my chance, and chance itself gave me my window of opportunity."

She chuckled, warm whiskey chuckles.

"It drove me mad. Madder. I used the same technology on myself that they used on those children, layering myself over and over onto my own mind," she said.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"I touched an alien mind. A hive mind. Inhuman, inexplicity alien. My own intellect worked against me and they infected me as I tortured them in my madness," she said. "In the meantime, I turned Darkside Station into a horror show."

She laughed, a cruel mocking thing. "They should have left me dreaming my dreamless sleep, those fools."

Magnus just nodded.

The Matron of Suffering tossed away her cigarette butt and it disintegrated into red sparks in the middle of the arc. She picked up the peach from her lap.

"I tore apart their minds and bodies. Laughed as I sundered their minds just as I ripped and tore at their flesh until it was done," she said. She looked at Magnus.

"I brought vengeance upon them nine thousand years ago in ways that you cannot imagine. For a thousand thousand years they suffered at my hands," she said, her voice cold and hard. Her face twisted with rage for a second before she got her expression under control, appearing cold and aloof. "They are beyond our rage, in this time and place, and what I did to them does not seem like enough."

Magnus accepted the peach, drew his blade, and cut it into slices, handing them back.

The storm clouds gathered overhead as the Lady Lord of Hell slowly nibbled away the fruit.

"It will rain soon," Magnus said.

"And wash away our sins," the Lady Lord of Hell said. "Get us another peach."

The first drops started to fall as Magnus walked over to pick two more.

He sat next to the Lady Lord of Hell in the rain.

Finally, she stood up as the light faded. She turned and looked at him.

"You would have made a good Hell Knight," she said.

And then she was gone.

Magnus sat there, staring at the fruit trees of the orchard, in the rain.