First Contact

Chapter 295: (Daxin)

Chapter 295: (Daxin)

YEAR SIX - TERRA - SOL SYSTEM

IN TRANSIT

The figure in the troop transport's troop bay wasn't alone but somehow he gave off the feeling of being alone. He was in the heavy Combined Military Forces heavy power armor, the plates scarred, pitted, discolored. He was covered in ichor, his arms and hands thickly coated with it. He was unarmed, but gave off the aura of restrained menace and barely contained rage. His helmet was off, revealing a scarred face with a pair of cybernetic eyes that replaced the orbital sockets as well. The plugs and skulljacks were all warsteel, matte black, and surrounded by scarring that silently proclaimed the jacks and plug sockets to be of an older variety and performed by surgeons who had no care about scarring. On the figure's cheek was a tattoo, a Terran Combined Military Forces service tattoo with name, rank, serial number, blood type, and a barcode of genecode.

The figure just stared at his gauntlets, exhaustion overlaying the feel of dangerous malevolence. Crackling lightning moved up his armor at times, wreathed his forearms, and danced in sparks across his armored knuckles.

The four troops in full armor, wearing their helmets, holding tight to their rifles, kept an eye on the figure that sat on the bench seat without a helmet. They were all on edge, their reflex triggers primed to kick in at the first sign of faster than human normal movement.

Sitting beside the figure was a warboi in a heavy combat chassis. There was a dampener on the side of its head, blinking an amber light, to keep all of its combat systems offline, to keep its aggression down. It sat there, breathing heavy, its synthetic flesh tongue hanging from its mouth as its robotic eyes looked around.

The massive figure reached over and petted the warboi between its ears, scratching it with the rasp of warsteel on warsteel.

The sitting figure acted as if the four keeping watch over him hadn't jumped and almost fired at his movement.

The ship shuddered as it moved through a storm, hail rattling on the hull but unheard by the occupants. The shudder was felt as the ship rattled through the choppy and chaotic air currents. One of the armored troops raised a hand and braced themselves by pushing against the ceiling of the troop compartment.

"Seen plenty of action, huh?" the big figure sitting down asked, not bothering to look up from where he was examining the sparks dancing across the knuckles of the hand resting on his knee while his other hand scratched between the ears of the warboi.

"Silence," one of the figures snarled out, the word made harsh by the armor's audio system.

"Don't speak to me like that," the sitting man said softly. "You need to show respect, I'm still an officer in the Terran Combined Military Forces."

"Until your trial," another one stated.

"Not the first trial I've had," the figure looked up, his cybereyes glowing a cold dim red. "Just because we drove them out of the system doesn't mean the war is over, you boot lickers." He moved to rubbing the side of the warboi's head. The warboi began scratching at his own neck rapidly, making happy huffing noises.

"How would you like a smack in the mouth?" another one asked, stepping forward and raising a hand.

"Do it," the man sitting down sneered. "Coward."

The one standing swung his hand, hard, intending on punishing the sitting one.

The one sitting stood slightly and twisted, his hand shifting to grab the restraining 'bolt' on the FIDO's head.

The one swinging a fist realized too late the mistake as his fist slammed against the restraining bolt on the shoulder of the armor, where it was impossible to reach with the thick plating. The power dampener shattered.

At the same time the one sitting down ripped the restraining bolt off the FIDO's head, coming up to his feet, grabbing the one who had swung and pulling him forward.

The other three tensed, expecting the reflex triggers to go off.

Except the triggers looked for faster than normal movement and the helmetless one was using slow steady movements that were smooth and slow.

The armored figured grabbed the waist of the one in front of him, squeezing, the warsteel plates crushing inward.

The one who had swung his fist vomited up blood inside his helmet and died as his waist was crushed. The figure grabbed the power rifle, twisted part of it with one hand, and tossed it to the back of the transport even as the power-mag in the butt began to glow brightly.

Before any of the three survivors could react the helmetless one threw the dead man into them, took a single step foward, and slammed a boot against the door of the troopship. The door blew off, vanishing into the night.

Without a word the figure jumped out, into the hailstone filled night.

The FIDO followed.

The transport exploded when the power-rifle's power pack exploded inside the troop bay.

The figure hit the ground feet first, flexing the knees, knees slamming down then one fist as the figure stared at the ground. The armor went full live as he slowly stood up. The FIDO landed next to him, in the newly created crater.

It wasn't the only crater. Just the newest.

Around the figure dark buildings loomed, many of them tilted, or missing parts of the structure. Only a few windows were intact, the structure overgrown with vegetation.

"Where are we, boy?" the figure asked.

--triangulating-- the FIDO answered. After a moment it answered. --Aspen, Colorado, United States of America--

The armored figure started laughing even as the hailstones pelted down.

---------------------

The lightning snarled in the clouds, the reforming ionosphere and ozone layer clashing with the solar radiation on the other side of the planet. It was dark, the cold heavy rain lashing the ruins as the figure sat on the front of a rusted and destroyed car. He was eating the raw flesh of a carnivorous beetle, scooping out the flesh and goo with armored fingers and slurping it all down.

There was a holo-emitter sitting on the ground, on the cracked and faded asphalt.

The Terran Combined Military Forces Authority was being shown on the news station. It had taken control of what was left of Earth and the colonies, taking over authority from the Republic.

The figure shook his head.

The holo-emitter flashed and buzzed and the figure frowned. It wasn't in good shape, neither was the SolNet linkup he had scavenged and gotten to work.

Tech wasn't his forte.

Guns were his forte.

A figure entirely composed of swirling streaming code appeared.

"Hello?" it said.

The armored man put his hand on the pistol sitting beside him.

The figure formed of streaming code stepped off the holo-emitter and looked around. The holo-emitter went back to showing the Terran Combined Military Forces taking over cities that had only just been liberated from the Mantid.

"The Old World still lives here," the digital figure said.

"Yes," the armored man said.

The digital figure turned stared at the armored man. "Hello," it said.

"Hello to you too," the armored figure said.

"Who are you?" the digital man asked.

"Nobody important. Not any more," the armored man said, shrugging.

--FIDO! I am FIDO! I am good boy!-- the FIDO said from where it was laying on the asphalt.

"What should I call you?" the digital figure asked the armored man.

"I don't care any more," the armored man said. He clenched his fist and lightning crawled up his arm from his fist, slowly, over the course of a heartbeat, reaching his shoulder and erupting into sparks.

"You are angry," the digital man said.

"I have nothing to be happy about. My world is destroyed. My family dead. My name erased. My deeds denied by cowards and traitors," the armored man said.

"I will call you by name. You should have a name," the digital figure said, pointing at a faded and dying street sign that read "Phillip Avenue" on a bent pole.

"Sure," the armored man shrugged.

The digital figure reached forward and touched the armored man's brow.

"Awaken, Enraged Phillip," the digital figure said. "Join me in healing our people."

--------------------

The figure was forced to his knees on the asphalt, the heavy armor of the Combine Army helping his captors to keep him on his knees as he struggled. There were two Combine Heavy Infantry holding each of the man's arms.

A slim man, dressed in a Combine officer's uniform came up and looked down. He was wearing the white and gold of the Bulwark Legionnaires.

"So you're Enraged Phillip," the officer sneered.

"Murderer," the one of the ground spit.

The officer grabbed the long hair of the figure kneeling on the ground, yanking the prisoner's head around to look in his eyes.

"It's not enough to kill you. That would make all of you martyrs. No, instead we're going to do something more," the officer said. "Project Hoama Book will take care of that. Your pathetic prophet's words will be washed away by the blood you spill as weapons of the Combine."

"You'll regret this," the burly man said, glaring. "My brothers and sisters..."

"Are already captured. You, Phillip, were the last one. Now nothing is there to prevent us from erasing the legacy of your mewling master," the officer said. He flicked his fingers. "Take him away."

"I'll get you for this," the struggling man said.

The officer laughed. "If you survive Project Hoama Book, you won't even remember me."

---------------------

**This one is Osiris?** the question was put from the Speaker to the gathered Warrior Caste. The Speaker looked down at the primate. It should be dead, torn from its armor and exposed to the harsh thin atmosphere of True Hivehome.

Instead it glared its hate.

**Yes, Speaker. You were correct. If we did not kill him he would not be reborn** the highest ranking Warrior said.

The Speaker made bodily motions of pleasure and stared down at the primate, who was pinned to the sand of True Hivehome by two dozen bladearms.

**You shall provide me with much amusement, primate** it said.

The primate just glared back.

**Let him up. Let him run. I will hunt him down and take him down** the Speaker ordered.

The bladearms were withdrawn.

**Run, Osiris, run**

------------------------

The night was quiet as the slender brown skinned man tossed another branch on the fire.

He had done it. He had managed to not only bring back the Lost Loves, but he'd managed to rescue two Sleeping Ones from their horror.

But he couldn't remember how he had done it.

He put his face in his hands and wept, not for himself, but for what it meant for everyone.

Branches crackled and he looked up, smoothing his beard and then running one hand across his bald head.

The figure that moved out of the darkness was in heavy Terran Combined Military Forces Heavy Assault Armor. His face was scarred, his eyes were burning red as he moved up and sat down.

"You said you wanted something from me," the slender brown man said.

"We can't allow us to be used again," the newcomer said, sitting down on a rock. He waved at the rocks surrounding the fire. "Remember when we used to sit here and talk with Him, Dhruv?"

Dhruv nodded. "Yeah, I do, Dax," he said. He sighed. "You want me to figure out a way to remove control from the Immortals System?"

Dax nodded, the firelight gleaming off of the heavy cybernetic plugs embedded in his temples. "Mankind can't be trusted with us."

Dhruv sighed and rubbed his face. "I think I can do it. Not completely, we'd still be reborn, but I might be able to figure a way around it."

"Kalki wants to be put in slumber. Wants to dream of his wife and children and family," Dax said. He picked up a pebble and threw it. It bounced off the rusting hulk of a ground car and clattered into the darkness. "I'll gather the ones who will follow. We'll take His Holy Code Fragments with us."

"Where will you go?" Dhruv asked, using a stick to draw equations in the dirt.

"Bellona said she foresaw a Hellspace rip, a big one. I'm going to take the Enraged Ones and the Martial Orders out there now that the Crusade is over," Dax said.

Dhruv nodded and stood up. "I better get to work, then."

"You still owe me, Dhruv," Dax growled. "You owe me for turning me in to the Imperium."

Dhruv nodded. "I know."

Dhruv snapped his fingers and vanished with the fzzt of a mat-trans.

Dax sighed and stared at the fire for a long moment.

"I just want left alone," he said softly.

-----------

The memories of an Immortal twisted and writhed, pounding at the man inside the Immortal, trying to strip him away, reform him as the Immortal protector of TerraSol and Humanity. Tried to strip part of him away, add more parts, and the man screamed in rage and denial.

The master control computer was normally up to the task, but corruption in the ancient network that had started recently was making things difficult. The Subject's mind had been changed, reverted, changed, the safeguards built into his genetics and brainscan missing. The corrupted code twisted and locked into place.

soft warm safe

The master control system hit a fatal error and rebooted.

It spit out the Immortal in the default location.

--------------

Aspen.

Once a skiing playground for the rich and neuvo-rich, it had been targeted directly by the Extinction Agenda Attack by the EarthOnly! eco-terrorist group.

During the Green Death Years it had been repurposed as a camp where prisoners fought against the hateful foliage. Only the worst prisoners were sent to the Aspen Reeducation Camp, and their lifespans were measured in days or weeks rather than years.

Less than a ten minute flight away was the Cheyenne Mountain Military Research and Development Black Site.

Some prisoners had been moved from the Aspen Colony to the Black Mountain.

That was neither here nor there.

Aspen was abandoned after the Mantid Attack. One of the few places untouched by Mantid orbital strikes or the fighting, it was a place that was covered in a dark stain. During the UnGlassing the Elven Queens refused to go near there.

It was a dark and evil place soaked with blood, within sight of the Black Box Mountain.

Time had not touched Aspen. The structures were still there, the plants were still dangerous and deadly. Despite nearly ten thousand years passing, the structures were still there as if the Extinction Agenda Attack had just happened only a decade or two before.

Even the bones of the dead were still there, despite having been cleared multiple times before.

It was raining. The night cool and chilly despite being the edge of summer and the early edge of autumn.

It was there that there was a Hellspace rip that vomited up a burly Terran wearing the heavy plated power armor of a Terran Combined Military Forces Heavy Assault Drop Infantry trooper. Before the rip could close a heavy assault chassis model FIDO bounded out and stood in the night air, heat roiling off of the warhound.

The figure went down on one knee, then slowly straightened up. The figure looked up to the cloud covered sky, closing his eyes, letting the rain wash his face.

The memories of the place twisted and flowed through the figure's mind and he shuddered.

--Home Daxin! Home!-- the FIDO barked.

"It's... it's been so long..." Daxin said. "I had forgotten..."

He stood there, letting the rain wash his face, his eyes closed, breathing slowly and steadily. In the back of his mind he could hear the error codes flowing. His brain met the checksums, but barely, and the charge in his chest cavity disarmed.

Daxin looked around. The parking garage was still intact, against the ravages of time, and he slowly moved over to it, FIDO bounding along beside him, wagging his tail.

Inside the garage Daxin flexed and then relaxed a muscle had hadn't used in millennia.

His armor beeped and unfolded, unlocking from him, leaving him standing there in a power armor pilot undersuit.

Daxin stood there for a long time, running fingers of flesh and bone on the cloth jumpsuit, feeling the coolant tubes beneath the ballistic and kinetic sleeve covering cloth, feeling the stitch of the cloth.

He unzipped it and looked at his own flesh.

The tattoos were still there, even though he had dumped the tattoos when he had abandoned his flesh, had it cut away to deny the Immortals program.

He looked at his fingernails. He had forgotten what it was like to have fingernails.

The fire pit was still there, as if over eight thousand years had not gone by. A circle of large smoothed rock around the fire pit.

He could almost see the Digital Omnimessiah, almost see his brothers, sitting around the fire.

Daxin and FIDO took the time to gather branches, twice the trees tried to kill him but failed, and came back. Daxin broke up the branches and slowly built a fire. He ignored the fzzt he felt and kept scraping off wood shavings to act as tinder.

The flint and steel were right where Dhruv had left them the last time they were here.

The fire was stubborn but finally lit and Daxin sat down on the stone he had chosen himself all of those thousands of years ago. FIDO sat down next to him and he reached up and scratched the cyborg canine between the ears.

"It's been a long time, boy," Daxin said.

--FIDO miss glowy Father-- the cyborg barked.

"Me too," Daxin admitted. He looked up. "I know you're there. Come out."

He was slender, brown skin, bald, his servitor bar code on each cheek.

"Hello, Dax," the brown man said.

"Hello, Dhruv," Daxin said. He pointed at the rock. "Sit, brother."

"It didn't work," Dhruv said. "The Case Omaha in multiple systems overrode whatever it was I did all those years ago."

Daxin shrugged. "I think it's more than that," he looked up. "Did you hear it when you got rebirthed?"

"The song?" Dhruv asked. When Daxin nodded he nodded too. "Yeah. Barely. Right before the system errored out, hard locked, and rebooted. It kicked me out right here."

Dhruv pointed up into the sky. "I'm up there, fighting, but I'm right here too, only different. I'm more like the Legion of old, back when we walked with our brothers."

Daxin nodded.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you with that much flesh," Dhruv chuckled.

"Not since I waded through the molten... hell, you know the story," Daxin said. He gave a shake of his head. "I've never forgotten how that felt, having my cybernetics melt away and flesh replace them."

"I've never forgotten how it looked," Dhruv said. He looked around. "This place never changes, does it?"

Daxin shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't been here since the fall of the Imperium."

"How'd you end up getting rebirthed?" Dhruv asked.

"One of the Lanaktallan panicked. Hit my ship with a planet cracker. I shouldn't have mattered, I should have reentered this reality right there aboard my ship," Daxin said. "Instead, it kicked me our here."

"Where it all began," Dhruv said.

Daxin shook his head. "No. Close, though," he pointed off into the darkness. "Black Mountain is where it all began."

"The Immortals, yes. I mean, this, us, all of us together. Before we were the Immortals," Dhruv said.

Daxin made a sound of wry amusement. "In a way it started, for me, right here. The Aspen Penal Colony."

Dhruv winced. "I can't imagine what that was like."

"Better than how we found you, you poor bastard," Daxin said. He picked up a pebble and bounced it off the rusted hulk of a groundcar, the pebble clattering away into the darkness.

Dhruv made a face. "Don't remind me," he looked off into the darkness, toward the Black Mountain. "The First Immortal," he said softly.

Daxin shrugged. "I thought I was going to die. Hell, I wanted to die. Out of all of the prisoners taken for medical experiments in the Black Mountain, I was the first to survive Project Stepladder."

Dhruv picked up a small stick and started drawing patterns in the dust at his feet. "We don't have a good relationship with mankind, do we?"

Shaking his head, Daxin picked up another pebble and flicked it into the darkness. He could tell by the way it felt in his fingers it was the same one he'd just flicked away a few moments before. "No, we don't."

"I'm part of a Black Box project again," Dhruv said. He looked up. "They've got me doing the same research you had me do. I'm close to a breakthrough."

"How close?" Daxin growled, the memory of his wife and daughter reaching for him right before the world dissolved into white fire raking at his soul.

"I managed to fix the dogs and cats," Dhruv said. "I think I know how to fix the Sleeping Ones."

Daxin sighed. "I don't know about bringing them back, Dhruv. Maybe it's time to let them go."

"Can you? Can you let them go, Dax?" Dhruv asked. "They're having me work on fixing the SUDS network right now. It's all interlinked, all of it."

"I'll need to think about it," Daxin said. He picked up the pebble and flicked it. It bounced off the rusting car and clattered away into the darkness. "There's people who need me, Dhruv. Need the Enraged Ones to spend themselves protecting them."

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, Dax," Dhruv said, standing up. He looked down at the equation he'd drawn in the dust. "Whatever you choose, be well."

"Be well, Dhruv," Daxin said right before the thin man vanished in the fzzt of a mat-trans.

--we go?-- FIDO asked.

Daxin picked up a pebble, flicking it away. It bounced off a rusted hulk of a ground car and clattered off into the darkness.

"No. Not yet. We're going to sit here for a bit, boy," Daxin said. He reached out scratched between FIDO's mechanical ears. "Humanity will just have to get along without us for a little while."

FIDO laid down, his heavy robotic head on his front paws, staring at the fire with unblinking cybernetic eyes that glittered with reflected flames.

Daxin picked up the pebble again.

"I just want left alone," he whispered.