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"Recognizing Reality"
A low humming noise reverberated around Malachi as he slid his fingers across the picture of his daughter, housed in an old, crumbling frame. He switched out the small pocket light illuminating the picture. The smell emitted by the old machinery running around him clouded the scent of perfume that lay within the porous wood. His wife had inadvertently allowed her favorite fragrance to spill onto the image while she hurriedly packed her husband’s things for the an equally rushed trip. Only a day before had he last seen her, her gentle brown eyes meeting his for what could be their last time together. He had met Allisa in 2821, in a small, rural community outside of New San Diego. Neither of them had ever involved themselves too deeply with the affairs of the Empire, and had lived quiet lives in near isolation to the rest of the world. Malachi worked as a porter of sorts, moving equipment for the military from one local city to the other. Normally, allowing a civilian to handle such things was out of the question; however, the goods were of such low concern, relics overshadowed by recent technology, that the low cost of Malachi’s price demands was enough to satisfy their qualms. Malachi had inherited his transporter from his father, and hence had few expenses to pay in comparison to other porters. Life was fair and simple, and regrets were sparse, if existent at all. The present was less forgiving. Malachi was alone now, towering amongst trees in a military vehicle from Los Angeles. Unlike most of the equipment the military had issued him, this was a new addition: one of the new Apocalypse models, as the identification papers read. Also in contrast to his usual deliveries, this vehicle came into his possession whole, ready for combat. He had no combat experience. He vaguely understood how the devices around him worked. Indeed, he would have rejected the idea of piloting the craft wholly if it weren’t for the desperate measures that were required of him. The Cybrids had returned to terran soil sooner than Petresun had anticipated, apparently; this was the only solution Malachi could resolve. The Emperor was nearly a god in Malachi’s eyes: a vigilant sentinel, protecting his own simple way of life in the shadows of harsher realities. Malachi had never been very intelligent. ------------------------ The humming continued, but only faintly. What equipment was producing this noise was out of the grasp of its manager’s limited knowledge. If this machine could speak, Malachi felt sure that it would ridicule him for his incompetence. Two weeks ago, his supplier had hastily delivered the vehicle to him so that he, in turn, should deliver it to a military instillation he had never been to before. Apparently, it was in desperate need of reinforcements, and Malachi was the only person available to deliver it. Although living outside of normal news, Malachi had recognized the sudden jump in his clients’ desperation. He could recognize the fear and weariness in the eyes of those he spoke to, as he signed their charts and delivered their goods. Although not a smart man, he felt certain that the life of his wife was in danger. Indeed, he had felt the sting of the war already. Maria, his only child, had disappeared two months ago. Neither he nor his wife knew the reason for her disappearance; she had vanished during the night. Whether by act or result, he felt certain that Maria had fled or been taken as a result of the Cybrid menace. This was reason enough for him to take up arms, regardless of his knowledge of combat. He gripped the controls, feeling his own tears upon their surface. Only here, in secret, did he feel secure in allowing his fear to show through. He knew Allisa had already suffered too much to experience his grief as well. He was her assurance. Doubt gripped at Malachi’s mind. Maria was a strong girl for her tender age, but how strong? Was she even alive? Malachi shook these thoughts from his mind. He knew little of the Cybrids, which was an oddity in the modern world, but he felt confident that they would not harm his little girl. What sort of inhuman monster had no compassion for children, after all? After this short term of service, he assured himself that he would return home to find his pride and joy awaiting his return. He would find reality restored to as he had left it, and life would return to as it once was. After all, the Empire was too strong to be shaken. Petresun was too great of a leader, too powerful a mind to forsake his people. ------------------------ His mind rested for a moment. The humming continued. Perhaps this was what being in his mother’s womb was like, he thought. The tight quarters and the steady beat of a nearby heart – the concept relaxed him; he felt protected. An officer over his communications system had hurriedly instructed him to wait at his current position and shut down his vehicle to avoid detection. It had taken him quite some time to deduce the controls for such an action. Afterwards, he had taken the liberty of shutting down his cockpit’s internal lights, although this wasn’t truly necessary. Approximately a kilometer away, the residents of a small community hid within their homes. Apparently, they did not feel as reassured by the Apocalypse’s presence as Malachi did. Something sounded on the instrument panel. What exactly the sound meant Malachi could not discern. He panicked. Fumbling about in the darkness of his cockpit, enhanced solely by the light of Luna, in a quarter of her strength, he managed to locate the cockpit’s light switch once again. His instruments lit up, revealing a blip on his radar. Something indeed was approaching. Trying not to panic further, Malachi remembered what the voice over the communications system had told him: “If you happen to encounter anything, let it pass. Retain minimal activity, just enough to scan the enemy, and then send that information back to base.” He froze. He certainly wasn’t going to screw this up; he had to survive for his daughter’s sake. “Daddy, I picked these for Mommy!” “Those are pretty, sweetheart. What are they?” The sepia-toned image of a distant memory returned to him. “Do you know?” “No, Daddy! What are they!” “Oh, I wouldn’t know, dear. Daddy just knows how to drive big trucks.” Maria laughed. Malachi found his memories interrupted by the distant sound of something massive trudging across the earth. He couldn’t make out what was in the distance just yet. Something told him he didn’t want to. His mind drifted once more. “So how much do I owe you this time, Cias?” Malachi smiled as he began to open his account on a technical pad. “Just the same, Mr. Kaeti. The thorns were forgiving this week.” Cias had been Malachi’s gardener for about a year and a half at this point. He had hired him after Allisa had become preoccupied with her own job in Meruti, a local town. She had always loved her garden, but never had time to care for it. Malachi cherished the opportunity to provide her with this single luxury. “Cias! Did you plant any new flowers today!” Maria had found her way into the back, to her favorite friend outside of the family. She always seemed to ask the same question, regardless of how many times she received the same answer. “It isn’t the season for any of the flowers your mommy wants yet, Maria dear,” Cias said with a smile, crouched down to meet her appreciative gaze. “Maybe next week?” “Okay!” she responded, turning and skipping back inside of her home. Cias had been a close friend of the family ever since he had started his work, especially because of his relationship with Maria. He too had been heartbroken of the news of Maria’s disappearance, although he had moved away to help in the war effort months before. He had helped forge several of Malachi’s favorite memories of his daughter. Malachi once again shook his head, trying to clear his mind. The fear of his own potential death drove him to remember what had brought him here, although it now clouded his mind, endangering him further. ------------------------ His thoughts scattered like frightened animals, and his mind became clear as he got his first glimpse of the blip he had come to fear. Towering at approximately the same height as his own vehicle, an alien form, the partially silhouetted machine strode into a clearing, obviously heading directly towards the very community Malachi had been told to protect. He panicked once again. The instructions of the faceless voice greeted his thoughts once again, reassuring him to stay calm and wait for the threat to pass him by. Trying his best to follow the instructions of his wiser superiors, Malachi waited for the beastly shape to approach him. The thunderous clap of metal hitting rock and soft dirt echoed in his cockpit, which remain lit from his previous excursion into hysteria. The machine did not approach him directly, but passed in front of him several hundred meters away. Hesitantly, he targeted his opponent, one of the few actions he had been able to teach himself. It froze. Malachi did as well. Shifting its massive, hideous head from side to side, it scanned the area for nearly a minute before turning back towards its place of origin. As it began to slowly tread back, at a pace lesser than it had once been, Malachi eyed the readout on his barely visible HUD. The information on a monitor below had numerous technical readouts, but on the cockpit window itself, only a simple image and name appeared. The named read “JUDGE.” Malachi had no knowledge of what a Cybrid was supposed to look like, much less what their nicknames were. However, from the sheer shape of the vehicle, he was certain this was something unholy. Trying to open a communications link, as he recalled in his instructions, Malachi began to pull levers and push buttons he had intended to avoid. Suddenly, his vehicle powered up to its full capacity. This was obviously not good. Malachi quickly disengaged the switch he had thrown, but it was too late. The “JUDGE” turned and eyed the Apocalypse through the makeshift cloak of trees; it had discovered Malachi. ------------------------ A voice suddenly boomed through the internal speakers of his communications system. “Meat. Submit//surrender for inquisition\\judgement.” Whatever had just been said sounded deadly enough to Malachi. His years of handling such equipment suddenly kicked in, and he threw the reactor switch without hesitation. His Apocalypse arose, and stepped forward to confront the enemy. The voice echoed once more: “Submit//surrender. Rebellion shall result in offlining//termination.” With a resolution he did not expect from himself, Malachi found the trigger and poured his ammunition into the shields the enemy Adjudicator. The creature began to move with surprising speed for its size, evading the next wave of attacks as it flew past Malachi’s right side. As the Cybrid crushed the smaller objects in its path, Malachi caught a glimpse of something peculiar as it dashed past his field of vision. Turning, he spotted what he had feared he had seen: in a delicate series of chains wrapped around the head of the machine, a child dangled from its inhuman neck, half-conscious, but weeping as the chains bore into her skin. “Maria...” The voice returned. “Die efficiently.” A beam weapon struck the Apocalypse in the face, causing Malachi to instinctively lift his hands in front of his face. The powerful shields around him protected the vehicle from harm. Now terrified at the thought of hitting his daughter, Malachi began to fumble about the terrain, unable to think of an appropriate plan. He could not fire back, but he could not die. His intention for even accepting this mission was to provide a safe future for his daughter. Now, he found himself confronted with two biological desires: the necessity of preservation, and the drive of protection. The Adjudicator continued to fire its weapons into his shields, eating away at their strength. Eventually, it began to cease its maneuvering at all. The Cybrid within knew its prey would not fight back. Radioing for help would do no good – help would never arrive. Firing back could potentially kill his daughter. The only chance he could have had was to destroy just enough of the vehicle to disable it, and avoid its vital areas. Unfortunately, he did not have the skill for such an act. He did not have a choice. With the Adjudicator now still, confident in its success, with weakened shields, a single shot could easily finish it off. Through the now disabled HUD on his HERC, Malachi saw his daughter reaching her hand out to him. She could not see who was behind the controls; she only knew that this was her chance for salvation. The speakers rang out over his communications system once more, now filled with the screams of his daughter. A sinister laughter danced behind her voice, echoing the sentiments of the rest of humanity: the enemy was not human. It knew humanity, and hated it for its compassion, its life. Death was a necessity for this situation. The trigger pulled, the powerful weapons mounted on the Apocalypse connected with absolute force, obliterating a section of the Adjudicator’s essential armor. Malachi had won. ------------------------ “Daddy, Cias said the flowers will come up this year, even though he’s not here.” “Well, maybe not all of them, Maria. You can’t expect the garden to look the same without being cared for, but it’ll still be pretty.” “Can I take care of it, daddy?” “We’ll see, hon.” ------------------------ A half-year had passed since that day. Malachi was now an officer in the military, fully trained for his duties. His wife had brought him news only weeks earlier that the Empire had executed Cias on grounds of treason. After his death, doctors discovered that his brain was cybernetic: the gardener that had befriended the Kaeti family had always been the enemy. It was Cias that had kidnapped Maria. Investigators assumed that this was also the reason the Cybrids had specifically used Maria as a living shield for the attack: they knew her father would be the only resistance. Every facet of the relationship amongst the family was part of a plan, conceived years in advance for a single attack. The cunning and fearsome exactness of the Cybrid contrivance was terrifying to Malachi, even to this day. That night, Malachi had left his HERC to inspect the ruins of the Adjudicator for his daughter. He only found shreds of broken flesh and scattered blood. The trauma of his failure is something he has lived with to this day. However, even in his now teetering sanity, he has striven beyond his past towards what he felt was necessary for the future of humanity. He no longer would allow himself to become a tool of reassurance and blind faith. He finally had recognized the true nature of reality. |
