Location: Peru, IBA
He should have died.
He was supposed to have been killed.
Yet he lived.
Emperor Petresun I sat in his electronic throne quite comfortably, adjusting its controls and linking himself to the complex camera network of the secret facility. The neural interface allowed him to view the palace through any monitor and display himself via hologram throughout many areas of the complex, much like his palace in Nova Alexandria. The fall of that city four years ago had seemed the fall of the Empire, and subsequently the end of all humanity. But as ancient Rome had survived its brutal sack, so too did Nova Alexandria; the people of the once proud Imperial City struggled desperately for life amongst the ruins, side by side with the soldiers of the Terran Defense Force. The will to survive was strong, but they would not have been victorious without their Emperor. Solomon Petresun, the savior of mankind...
Now Petresun didn't need his cameras any longer. Nor did he need his womb chair of old; that constraining device which had pinned him in place while his people were suffering. He did not even need the electronic devices built into his high security throne room. Both the Imperial Guard and the Immortal Brotherhood had agreed on shunting him away to this secure area beneath the Andes Mountains in Peru. The South American continent was still consumed by the flames of war as the TDF struggled to suppress the Cybrid forces contained in the southern hemisphere. The entire Inca-Brazil Axis was in a state of virtual anarchy, and some of the greatest of the Knight legions had been dispatched there to instill order and muster enough force to contain the Cybrids.
It was a terrible thing that the war was not yet over, but the machines were crumbling. The unbelievable double victory in the Battle of Nova Alexandria and the destruction of PROMETHEUS had resounded across the solar system, and the tide had turned against the Cybrids almost instantly. Already beaten off the colony worlds, the faltering and leaderless armies of the Dark Intellect were broken and flailing. Not a single Cybrid victory had been attained since Prometheus was off-lined, and the Immortal Emperor preceded over the hosts of man with the hawk-like vigilance of the Templar of old. For this was no longer the frail man who had watched over the Earth for two centuries - this was Petresun the God.
The Emperor as a deity; many churches in his honor had already sprung up. And perhaps the future of the empire lay in theocracy - there was nothing that could disprove Petresun's divinity, and many instances where it seemed as though he were truly in control of the cosmos. By this time he himself believed in his own grace. Why should he not? Did he not see everything that lived? Did he not feel the very forces of nature at work in the planet around him? It was an unbelievable transformation - from man to deity. When Petresun had first become an immortal he had believed that he had achieved a plateau. Heightened senses, abilities and perceptions; in this seemed to lay the ultimate secrets of life. It gave him an even greater drive to live. It protected him from his neurotic fear of death...
However, immortality was like nothing compared to his newfound powers. He kept from the Brotherhood the full extent of his power... allowed himself to be shuffled around maximum security bases like cargo. To do otherwise might reveal that he was allowing the war to continue unduly. Petresun sincerely felt within the core of his being the power to bring the fighting to an end with the snap of his fingers. That though, would be too much help to humanity. There needed to be more death, more suffering... only then would the human race become stronger and learn from this war. And so he let it continue, omnisciently watched soldiers dying and struggling and being inspired and losing hope and destroying the Cybrids, and felt the terrible feelings surging through the circuits of every Cybrid as weapons of humanity savaged their pilotforms or BioDerm shock troopers tore them apart with candleguns or armored gauntlets.
This war, though terrible, was now on its way to reaching an end. The carnage seemed to be wasting itself each new month the battles stretched into, and the Cybrid fronts were worn thin almost everywhere. In Europe and South America they were fighting on, but many of their own kind had already fled. The Metagen factions had risen up in bitter civil war against their Promethean masters, and so by dissent and despair the Cybrid grip on Earth was sundered. A decade of warfare was the result of Petresun's own obsessive build-up and preparation, and though it had barely been enough to hold back the armies of Prometheus, with his new strength he was confident that he could weather any storm of troubles humanity might face in the future. Anything...
It could have turned out so much differently. The war had nearly been lost on that day in Nova Alexandria, and he had nearly been killed. But something had happened... something he still did not completely understand. Closing his eyes, he relived the moments that would change the course of history...
Date: 2832
Location: Nova Alexandria, Imperial Protectorate
Two Cybrid Advocate interceptors streaked through the sky above the great capital city of Nova Alexandria. Beneath them the repeated flashes of weapons fire could be seen all along a front line stretching through the very city streets in the early morning light. Day was dawning over the Imperial City, and with the light would come the morning artillery barrage. As the front shifted into Nova Alexandria the TDF defenders and the citizens grew to know and dread the routine of Cybrid day-to-day operations, but as terrifying as that orderly and efficient routine was, it was nothing compared to the apprehension felt by all when the Cybrid attackers did not follow their routine. This morning though, it had begun.
The sleek Cybrid aerospace craft lanced through the air leaving thin trails behind them. The TDF had taken to calling them "Demons," for their speed and frightening appearance. As the reconnaissance flight passed overhead they gathered data, searching for and recording the newest TDF deployments, and tagging critical target facilities for artillery strikes. Anti-aircraft defenses sprung to life and a cascade of bullets and heavy lasers traced arcs and patterns through the atmosphere after and around the incoming fighters. Missiles were now in short supply and were held back, but the rain of energy weapons was joined by the distinct greenish flashes and bright green-white globes from rare 'Cache' weapons, those recovered by the Grand Fleet and brought to Earth.
Although they were few, they were both powerful and accurate, with several finding their mark on one of the Cybrid vessels. The blast tore off its port stabilizer and engine nacelle. The Demon fell from the sky ingloriously, or it began to before being shredded by other energy weapons shooting up from the ground. The shockwave tore it apart and caused its wingmate to peel off and avert collision and loss of control. Ground fire failed to corral the fighter into a kill zone and it fled, increasing its speed and blowing past the massive Pyramid in the city's center, the Imperial Palace. Even as it gained altitude and disengaged, artillery began falling on the city proper. As the pilotform glanced below it could see hundreds of tiny black and grey spires mushrooming up from the bombardment.
Meanwhile below the attack had commenced. It was 0730 hours when the Cybrids brought up their heavy hercs and broke the thin line of defense along the Imperial Boulevard leading towards the Palace. The air smelt of smoke, gunpowder and burnt ozone, and TDF troopers struggled to find cover behind destroyed hovercraft and in the ruins of buildings even as squads of well-armed Hunter-Killers lumbered past them down the street. The wreckage of six Imperial Hercs, including two Knights, was all that remained of their reinforcements. Panicked transmissions crackled over the bandwidth of the Nova Alexandria Tactical Communications Center.
"What the hell's going on TAC-COM? Where are our support forces? We've lost contact with the unit on our left, those guys must be history because about seven or eight light 'brid hercs just flanked the main axis of defense."
"We need air support! The whole goddamn glitch air corps is out here hammering us!"
"Strongpoint Cairo just fell, Alamein is holding as far as we can tell... no contact with Osiris, Horus and Ra firebases, assumed to be wiped out, our Suez foothold is reporting massive Cybrid naval activity and amphibious assault along their front. Odessa reports it is under assault and unable to launch Banshee sorties at the moment, we're not getting air cover for some time."
A cacophony of messages and white noise filled the comm. The flooded channels were being managed by a small group of fatigued analysts and strategists at NATCC. After a few minutes the ranking officer prepared to issue his orders to the defenders of Nova Alexandria.
"Sir!" a female tech said to him. "Look! The Palace is on fire!" The despair in her voice was quite evident, and as the other techs and tacticians looked out the windows towards the towering pyramidal structure all could see the thick black smoke belching from the mid-upper region of the Palace. The defense line had crumbled and apparently the Palace's overburdened shield generators were beginning to fail.
"All units, this is TAC-COM. Fall back to a new defensive position at or near... Block 42C, form up a line running west to east and meeting at the corner of Polonsky Street and John W. Dixon Avenue. Abandon, repeat, abandon the perimeter around the Imperial Palace. The Emperor has chosen to remain behind with his Elite Guard and the combat situation within this zone is no longer within TDF jurisdiction. Leave the elites to handle the Emperor gentlemen, and focus on getting your units out alive from this mess. If we cannot hold the second line we will be forced to order a general withdrawal, and since you all well know there is no other place to go, each of you unit commanders had better make damn sure we're not going anywhere. Dig in boys and girls; we'll get you help as soon as we can find it." After he was finished the commanding officer terminated the transmission and pressed his left hand against his forehead for several seconds. "Damn." He quietly said at last.
In inner chamber of the ground floor of the Imperial Palace, Petresun sat in his wombcouch staring ahead blankly. His Empire was about to be toppled, he knew. He was thinking back in history, ancient days before the devastation when barbarians would destroy civilizations with their reckless wars and violent traditions. PROMETHEUS had harnessed that most base of emotions and programmed it into his little demonic children, and led them with all the cunning and intellect of all humanity's greatest generals, statesmen and prophets combined. And he was to blame for his foolish loss of temper against Victor, and the Martian Rebellion. He felt no anger, no disappointment. He felt no emotional response at this moment, and he simply looked straight ahead wondering what was to come next.
"Emperor..." an Imperial Guardsman approached his chair and knelt before him. "Our forces are retreating from this area. We have a shuttle waiting that can ferry you away from here. Please my Lord, if we lose you..." the Guardsman looked up at him with tears in his eyes, pleadingly, "...we cannot lose you my Emperor!" Petresun turned his stare down on the sobbing Guardsman. He was of moderate height with short brown hair and an incredible build, like most reincarnated immortals. He bit his lip, trying to hold his emotions back, but was obviously having difficulty doing so.
"My faithful servant, leave me and either go to your post or flee this damned place. The city is falling. I will fall with it. Because my people are suffering, I refuse to leave them. This is the end for me." He spoke slowly and articulately, and through speaking to the immortal he managed to console himself as well. "Go make your peace with the heavens. It is what I am doing now as well." The sound of weapons fire had grown closer now, no longer distant but right outside. Every so often there would be a sound like thunder and dust would fall from the upper reaches of the walls and ceilings. The Palace was beginning to come apart around the Emperor.
"Respectfully... I refuse to leave. I will die here instead with you... my last death, sire." The Guardsman wiped his eyes but only succeeded in smearing his tears around his face. The immortal's body was as handsome as some sort of Greek sculpture of a hero, and Petresun felt a pang of grief and compassion for the pain he was inflicting on him.
"Nyca is more than capable of defending me herself. You are free, David."
"I refuse to leave!" replied the Guardsman. "You have chosen my course for me." With that David walked over to the door and posted next to it, unarmed but determined. Petresun felt no warmth from his pawn's devotion and passion, but merely thought of the retreating TDF, his TDF, leaving him here in his Palace to rot. He had expected death, but retreat and death together? He wanted to die with his soldiers, not alone with a handful of the Immortal Brotherhood to guard him. Where were they? Where were his people?
"Do you think they are traitors?" Petresun did not turn. The comment came from Nyca, his head bodyguard. In this incarnation Nyca was a beautiful woman with red hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the physique of a body-builder. Nyca was a loyal member of the Brotherhood, but she sometimes bordered on insubordinate. At length Petresun answered.
"Their position was untenable."
"Ah, but so is ours, is it not?" Nyca gave one of her classic sarcastic grins and the Emperor scowled back. Suddenly the sound and shockwave of an explosion rocked the secure room. "It's time." Nyca said, and with that her grin died flat and her eyes became hard and deadly serious. She walked out of the shadows behind the Emperor's couch over to the door in just a few strides and shouldered a hand-held plasma weapon. Grimly she looked towards the Emperor for a signal to move out past the sealed door and out into the Palace Courtyard. With a wave of his hand, Petresun released them to their duties and sank back into his trancelike meditation.
The outer wall of the Courtyard collapsed as an Adjudicator herc burst through it and brought its weapons to bear...
The Cybrid was chimed an Acknowledge//Submit order. Only
David hefted his warhead and sprinted out of the secure door and across the stone floor of the Courtyard. He ran past the columns and statues, underneath the domed entrance to the secure room and its beautiful arches, he ran underneath the convergence of the Cybrid herc's weapons and armed the missile before thrusting it under the chassis of the herc. It exploded with a flash and ended both him and his target.
Next a large Executioner hobbled through the hole formed by the Adjudicator. Activating its weapons systems and scanning for targets, it stepped over the ruins of the other warform and marched forward, shaking the floor with each step.
The Cybrid returned fire with a hail of bullets and particle weapons, which lanced out but only kicked up ashes from the Guardswoman's cover. Very quickly the machine shifted its fire to columns and statues above her, and rained rubble down onto her. With a scream Nyca was crushed, buried beneath the remains of the columns. The Executioner then promptly blew open the armored plate with powerful linked weapons fire, and the Emperor sat helpless and with closed eyes, facing the barrels of its weapons. The Emperor was about to die.
Petresun had sunk deep within himself, and found peace. He felt as though he could touch the core of the universe with his mind. A thousand stars swirled around the center of his mind's eye and he felt a feeling of complete peace. After all this time his mind had been furiously working and it simply needed rest now. The galaxy was there before him with its millions of worlds and wonderful shining colors and its peaceful dark places, and he could see within every person's soul on Earth and elsewhere, and he knew the sum of all knowledge as it was meant to be known, in the context of emotion and intellect and feeling, and not in harsh mechanical equations and summaries and conclusions. He felt as though the light of the universe and from the core of all creation was around him, engulfing him, and the darkness left him and he felt as though it was as though he was completely surrounded by peace. Then, the stars around him warped and the light bent. He was ascending to the heavens, he was tracing along the curve in time and he was about to end, or begin again.
Sensing the approach he slowed himself, regained his mind and felt controlled yet somewhat startled. He felt his mental self reach out and grasp that curve of time and light. He pulled it towards himself... he seized on its power, its strength. It wanted to pull him forward and over the edge, but he instead pulled it back to him, harnessing that light as though it were an ointment, or elixir, and he pushed and pulled it, manipulating it to create a laurel for himself. He took the light within his mind as one would take hot iron and fashion a crown out of it. It was like drinking an ancient potion, and he felt alive and strong once again. The feeling of peace was leaving and something told him it was time to return to reality. Now.
His eyes snapped open. Staring him in the face was the barrel of a particle weapon and to the right of that a bulky heavy autocannon, both strapped to the huge partially concealed form of the Executioner carrying them. The beam weapon hissed as it recalibrated itself to target his wombchair and the autocannon revved up, spinning up to release its deadly bursts of hypervelocity rounds. In a matter of seconds the Emperor would be killed. Petresun threw up his hands in defense as the Cybrid commenced firing.
