Rise of Aen Page 34

  Soldiers of the Russian National army had dug in deep and had plenty of advanced notice about the impending attack. They were armed to the teeth and had a sheltered supply chain for ammo and other necessities. The Husk had advanced and been caught off guard by the resistance and now held on for a fight they had never seen coming. For every resistance fighter to fall, ten of the horde was dropped. Their resolve was unwavering and the men and women fought proud and hard.

  As their numbers began to waiver, the Husk drop ship loomed in the distance, as it brought more battalions of troops to the line. The size was a disadvantage here as it was quickly targeted by the anti-aircraft guns and when in range it began to take immediate damage. It began its descent a little before the fortifications set up by the rest of the alien horde as heavy rounds began to wear down the shields.

  Hovering just a few meters off the ground, the enemy troops frantically began to offload. The Russian troops, seeing the panic in the enemy actions had tanks target and open fire on the ship as well. The additional firepower paid off as the shields buckled and the ship exploded in a brilliant fireball with a little over half its troops unloaded on the ground and it fell with a resonant thud. A roar from the Russian troops erupted in the battlefield; it was the second of such ships they had felled in the last few hours! Morale was high on the line, the enemy wasn’t as strong as they thought they would be!

  But the hope that was building in the hearts of those who had fought so long now was a false one, as death loomed on the horizon. The destruction of the drop ship was viewed as a last straw by the Husk and they were unwilling to sacrifice much more equipment and troops in this skirmish. A small dark shadow became visible in the Southern sky behind the enemy lines; a foreboding sign of the doom that followed it. In the distance approached another Husk ship, but this time it was an attack cruiser that had begun to bombard the Earth in cities that were cleared by the alien troops.

  It didn’t take long for the Russian soldiers to take notice of the lumbering giant looming closer. Elation turned to sorrow; the realization that death would soon overtake them began to creep over the troops. Whispers started to roam and dissension began to rear its ugly head. Talk of a possible retreat surfaced along with a bit of panic, and it was at this time they began to notice the stranger in their midst—Aen had arrived.

  It had taken a few hours to regain enough strength to teleport to Moscow, even though he was aware of the conflict as soon as it started. The Seattle incident had taken a lot out of him, more than he was willing to admit. And with that expenditure of sheer power came some strange side effects, some of which were a bit worrisome. Most troubling to him was the faint echo of a ghostly voice that was too hard to interpret, but was becoming annoying. In concert with the whisper was flashes of another place—somewhere he had never been—that held a presence that unnerved him. Aen was not confident in his stability, but wrote most of this off on exhaustion and battle fatigue. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it; this was hardly the time to be seeing ghosts!

  Joining the others at the command bunker, he silently watched as the hulking menace approached. He too saw the finality in the act, but he also saw it as a sign of desperation. The Husk weren’t counting on meeting such resistance and were resorting to destroying the very commodity they coveted most. He wondered what percentage of the population they now deemed as an acceptable loss.

  “You are the one Admiral Yazukov spoke of,” The man in command said in his thick accent. “You are the hybrid, yes?”

  “Yes.” Aen’s eyes remained focused on the ship in the distant skies.

  “This ship that comes for us, it isn’t coming to take prisoners like those things did in the city?”

  “No.”

  “And our weapons aren’t enough to stop it?”

  “They won’t even drain the shields.” Aen knew these were men of honour and giving them false hope would be an insult to the very statement they made by surviving this long.

  “Then we are fucked,” the man said with a strange half-smile. “Break out the vodka comrades—we will enjoy our last moments as we take as many of these fuckers with us as possible!”

  The sound of corks popping and plastic mugs overflowing with spirits filled the room as the cannons once again resumed their symphony. Anti-aircraft cannons were redirected to the alien encampment and let loose upon their growing numbers. Celebration and chaos reigned at once; the Russians were going down the way they wanted and on their terms. But Aen wasn’t sure they would have to lose their lives today.

  “You might not be fucked, at least not yet, comrade,” Aen said sternly. The roar of excitement quickly died off as all the command team were eager to hear how the end was not near. They crowded around him and waited for him to speak. A small static charge began to build up in the room.

  “What is it you propose?” the commander asked after Aen showed no sign of sharing his plan.

  “If I told you what I aim to try, you would laugh,” Aen replied. “Just be ready to fire everything you have when it’s time.” He stepped forward and strode out of the tent towards the front battlements; his eyes all the while locked onto the cruiser.

  “Wait, comrade!” The man chased after him, finally grabbing Aen by the arm to get his attention. “How will we know when it’s time?”

  With a smile, Aen replied, “Trust me, you won’t be able to miss it.” He pulled free of the group and disappeared into thin air, leaving behind frayed nerves and a new resolve. He knew they would stand tough until he was ready, but he wasn’t as sure he could do what he hoped.

  Husk Attack Cruiser - One Day, Eight Hours since Arrival

  Alone and cold, Aen stood on an empty deck of the Husk cruiser with steam literally pouring off of his body. The ambient temperature of the room was almost at freezing; the aliens were dependent on machines and their very bodies were intertwined with the technology they created, and this coolness kept them at optimal operating efficiency. Aen, on the other hand, ran hot and the difference in temperature created a fog in the passage.

  There were no alarms, no blaring sirens going off as he stood there but he was sure they knew he was here. On a thermal scan he would stick out in this environment like a sore thumb. Deciding not to waste any time, he began to push his body to perform much like it did the night before; he hoped he had something left in the tank. His eyes closed and he pictured his heart as it began to churn. At first it was slow, not ready to react to what he wanted but soon began to churn out power. In his mind, he planned on using his telekinesis to cripple the ship and bring it down; ambitious, but effective, he hoped.

  As he concentrated, he felt the heat from a plasma round strike his torso. The blast threw him back a few feet, but he kept up his concentration. In response to the threat, his body created a sphere of blazing hot radiation that surrounded him; hot enough to boil away any more plasma rounds that would come his way. Now he was protected, but try as he might there was still nothing happening to the ship to slow it from destroying the helpless soldiers below.

  “Let go of your humanity and embrace what you have become.”

  His eyes sprang open as the whisper in his mind startled him. It was the first time he could truly understand this ghostly voice, but what did it mean? Aen closed his eyes again and tried with all his might to tear something loose in this ship.

  Nothing happened, but a few creaks and groans from the girders.

  “Embrace what you are and you will be unstoppable.”

  It was her voice; the Empress was whispering riddles in his head from light years away. How? Aen grew frustrated with his lack of effectiveness, knowing time was running out. Why couldn’t he do this?

  “To find yourself, look at your heart.”

  His heart—was she talking about his emotions or how he felt? What about his heart? It wasn’t human anymore...and maybe neither was he! It took a moment, but Aen got the rid
dle. In his chest roared a star, the key to all his power and might. It wasn’t telekinesis he possessed; it wasn’t the ability to teleport himself he had been using. He was harnessing the power of a star and all its glorious possibilities! When he moved about the planet, he was moving at the speed of light while shifting his body at the atomic level, not teleporting his mass from one place to another. And instead of moving things with his mind, he was manipulating gravity using powerful magnetic waves. He was a star; he was one of the Lyarran gods incarnate and it was about time he acted like one!

  Opening his eyes slowly, Aen saw that there were many Husk soldiers trying to blast through his defences. A grim smile grew on his face as he now knew he was beyond their attempts at harming him physically. He ignored them and began to refocus his effort on the ship itself. Magnetic loops of charged plasma burst from his body—solar prominences—as his effort was about to pay off.

  Reaching out with his arms and hands pressed together, Aen felt the magnetic energy in the ship and grasped at it; magnifying them a thousand fold as he built up the charge he would need. The increase magnetism crushed the Husk in its path like empty pop cans; their insides squishing out in yellow ooze. Aen knew he wasn’t only going to damage the ship to bring it down, he was about to obliterate it completely!

  Using the magnetic fields, he held the ship still, so it could no longer close in on its prey below. The energy shields began to buckle and break like glass, with a metallic crashing sound. From below, the Russian forces watched as the hull began to cave in at the center line along the ship’s length with an echoing sound of metal being crushed as if one was at the center of a junkyard during business hours. Inside, Aen felt the hull giving and quickly raised the temperature of his protective bubble to immense heights before clasping his hands into fists. The alien ship responded by imploding around him, a giant ball of twisted metal, as the unseen gravitational force pushed it towards its center mass.

  Still safe at the middle of the crushed remains, Aen then opened his hands and threw his arms to his sides as the remnants of the ship flew apart and exploded outwards; in a flash the gigantic monstrosity had been disintegrated! Clear from the wreckage, Aen dispersed his protective barrier and hung in the air weightlessly. His eyes glowed fiercely as he looked down upon the confused Husk horde huddled below; the aliens were in shock at what they had witnessed. The angry God hovered above the battlescape with energy radiating from his very core. Like all the soldiers below, Aen though the battle was over but it wasn’t at all, not yet.

  At first, the Husk cowered beneath him; confusion and fear ran through their ranks. Feelings of power and might filled his mind as his ego inflated from his recent accomplishment. But then, the creatures began to reassume their formations and a unified clatter arose as he assumed they were roaring at him. Aen found it amusing, but he would soon pay for his arrogance. It wasn’t until he looked at the distant glare of the Russian soldiers that looked fearfully over his head that clued him in—then he felt the overwhelming heat!

  There was only a moment for him to glance up to see what they did, but what he saw was death. The enemy hadn’t been afraid, they were stalling for time—time needed for the capital ship high above to move into firing position and let loose a high yield, accelerated plasma round. It was a perfect deception and a well-executed plan; Aen was about to pay for his arrogance and the momentum of the war was about to swing back to the attackers once more. The round was gigantic, it enveloped the sky completely as it rained down on Aen. It struck him hard and swept him downwards as it smashed into the Earth with the force of a hundred atom bombs; the result was tragic.

  Everything below was wiped out, Husk and human alike. The round drove deep into the ground, creating a crater a mile wide and deep. Displaced rock and soil shot up into the air and darkened the skies. The ground rippled as the shock wave spread out for hundreds of miles followed by the intense heat of the blast. There was no fleeing, no running away for those in the path of the destruction. In a matter of minutes, Moscow was gone and the only sound to be heard was that of rock and debris hitting the ground as it fell. Gone were the heroic troops of Russia; their valiant stand was for naught. Gone were the Husk troops, sacrificed by their masters up high to rid themselves of a greater threat. And most of all, gone was Aen. He had stood at the forefront of the battlefield and fought hard to save mankind; now there was nothing between Earth and the slavers.

  Fires burned and debris fell; Moscow was now a desolate wasteland. Once it stood and beckoned the world with its culture, its iconic Kremlin, now it was all gone; rubble and wreckage replaced beauty and wonder. The darkened skies blocked most satellite imagery from piercing the haze, but the devastation was apparent regardless. At one point this had almost been the greatest triumph of human perseverance, but now it stood as its worst defeat.

  Groom Lake Military Installation –

  Code Name Area 51, Nevada -

  One Day, Nine Hours since Arrival

  Patterson stood in front of the wall-sized video-screen as the images of the blast repeated in a stomach-wrenching loop. Over and over, the scene played out from the many different angles from the satellites above. He stood with his head lowered in frustration, his eyes closed and his lips pursed. His entire stature was that of a defeated man; his entire program that he had started for this very reason had failed.

  The entire war room was deathly quiet as the events in Russia had shaken the entire defence strategy to the core. They had bet it all on this hybrid creature to hold back the tide until help arrived; they all now felt that they had bet on the wrong horse. Aen was gone; nothing could have survived a shot like that! So they waited for the American general to regain his composure and lead them once more. They waited in silence.

  Before this moment, there were very few battles which were going well. The western seaboard had fallen completely from northern British Columbia down through California. Those who couldn’t run from the Husk invaders were trampled beneath their feet. The enemy was pushing a steady line inland and was starting a similar offensive on the east coast. They were being herded like sheep.

  Minutes ticked by; Patterson stood unmoved. He wasn’t quiet due to shock, he was thinking deeply on what to do next. In his mind, there was only one solution: fight back harder!

  “Move the counter attack plan up—we go in two hours,” he said after what seemed to be an eternity. “Tell them to arm the Thunderwells, and when that ship is overhead, get in position to fire at will! He gave us two extra days—not as much as we needed, but let’s not waste them!”

  Everyone in the room either got on the phone to relay orders or to use whatever computer stations still functioning. A new air of purpose filled them; the time for the real offensive had begun! Patterson stood stoically with his back to the flurry of activity and his eyes remained closed. His thoughts were locked on the horrors that occurred not too long ago and the true cost of what had just been lost. No one else knew how much they needed Aen and how much they still did. Yes he had bought them a few extra days, but help was still another few days away and he feared that without his help humanity would fall before these Lyarrans arrived.

  Humanity teetered on the brink of collapse; freedom looked to be lost. Hope was fleeting and the future looked very dim, but Patterson remained focused. They had to stand now, if not they would be gone from history in a matter of hours.

  Lyarran Vessel Amarra, South Pacific -

  One Day, Nine Hours since Arrival

  A thousand different permutations calculated in mere seconds as Caretaker assessed what to do next. Although he was programmed with a personality, he was not able to feel the shock and fear at what had happened. Instead he began to calculate the different variables for the probability of the human race being able to survive this fight—it wasn’t favourable.

  Then he began to run a diagnostic on the Amarra to see if it would be able to join the fray. Reactor power was i
nsufficient to do much more than just stay operational; the ship was grounded without Aen as its power source. Point of defence systems were back online as the drones had repaired all the external turrets. If anything, at least the Amarra could defend itself if nothing more.

  Caretaker hummed softly as he ran different scenarios on what to do, while sending off reports to the incoming Lyarran vessels on what happened. He was sure it would create some hesitation on their part to rush after this—the real prize they sought was the Harbinger and with him gone so would be their true motivation.

  An idea popped into his mind and made him pause on all his multi-tasking due to its audacity; what if Aen hadn’t been killed? It was a wild thought, but one worth entertaining so he launched some scans of the blast area to see if any of Aen’s unique energy readings. Unlike the enemy who had trouble tracking him, Caretaker had become quite adept at finding his elusive partner if he was active.

  Data began to return on the scans; there was no trace of the Harbinger as he suspected. It was early, perhaps too early after the incident, and he figured that Aen may be unconscious yet. It was a gamble to hold out hope, but he was sure that he could dedicate some run-time programming to the task while figuring other solutions. Ameia would have wanted him to try, and she had always been the closest thing to a friend he had.

  Lyarran Flagship Lyarra’s Fire, Alpha Centari -

  Two Days since Arrival

  The Lyarra’s Fire sat quietly in orbit around an ice giant, flanked by her two warship escorts, with her reactors on full-vent and intake tubes extended into the cold planet’s atmosphere. She had been run hard thus far, and now had stopped for a much needed cool-down. Warm air billowed into space as it hit the cold vacuum, the reactors had been pushed far beyond the normal redline to make up time. They were only six days away from Terra Sol, six days from jumping into a near-hopeless warzone.