CHAPTER TWO
That first gunfight with the Fallen had been brief and terrifying, but it had also been a warning. This place was falling apart, with all sorts of hiding spots and crawlspaces in every hallway. I wanted to run, to escape this Wall as quickly as possible, but all I’d achieve with that would be running into an ambush and probably dying. Instead, I moved slower, carefully, constantly checking behind me, or any suspicious gap in the ceiling. It was slow, yes, and I couldn’t help but worry I was giving them time to surround me anyway, but at least this way I had a decent chance of catching the four armed bastards before they shot me.
“We call the ones with two arms Dregs,” the Ghost explained as I paused behind a support pillar, sweeping the room for movement or suspicious holes in the wall. “From what we know of Fallen society, they’re pretty much at the bottom of the ladder.”
“Hence the name?” I whispered, moving forward towards a door. It was open just a crack, and whatever was on the other side, at least it looked like the lights were all on.
“More or less,” agreed the Ghost. “I haven’t exactly seen them fight much - A Ghost isn’t really suited for combat without a Guardian, so most of what I know about them comes from Vanguard reports on them. They say that most of the time, Dregs tend to use knives and shock pistols, with the occasional rifle. Oh, and they really like grenades,” it added, sounding slightly worried.
Glancing through the opening for signs of life, I couldn’t help but frown, understanding that worry well enough. The thought of facing explosives in these narrow corridors was terrifying, possibly even worse than the initial ‘aliens want to kill me’ nightmare. That said, it didn’t sound like a major concern, if only because I doubted they’d want to risk catching themselves in the blast. If I made it out of here and into the open however...
Unaware of my thoughts, the Ghost continued with its brief lesson. “In battle, they’re usually led by Vandals. Uh, those are the ones with four arms and bigger guns,” it added helpfully. “After that, there’s Captains, and Barons, and so on, but, well, I really hope there aren’t any of them here at the moment.”
Pressing my foot against the door, I slowly pushed it open, waiting for the squeal of rusted hinges to bring trouble running. This time, it seemed I was in luck, and I heard only the tiniest squeak before it was open enough to let me through into what looked like an old bunk room. “They’re not the friendliest sort, I assume?” I asked, grinning weakly at the unease in the robot's voice.
“They’re usually at least nine feet tall,” the Ghost said, its voice unnaturally flat. My tiny smile promptly vanished.
“Okay, yeah, no thanks.” Adding ‘Vanguard’ to my list of things to properly interrogate the robot about later, I dodged around the rusted frames that were once bed and moved to an open doorway across the room. It led to what had once been a small bathroom before something had taken out the far wall, revealing yet another corridor. Pausing, I tried to remember the recent twists and turns, then sighed. “Which way?”
“If you take a left here, it should lead back to that catwalk across the storeroom,” my guide replied. “And before you say anything, I know that risks us running into some of those Fallen, but it should also be the quickest way out of the Wall. We get out of here, we’ve got a better chance of disappearing, or maybe even finding a vehicle.”
Biting my lip slightly, I thought about that, then nodded. “Risk vs reward, I suppose.” Sighing, I stepped out into the hallway. Before I could say anything else, the sound of movement caught my attention. Soft, barely audible, but it was still enough to make me tense, bringing the Khvostov up. For several seconds, there was nothing. Then I heard it a second time, a scraping noise, coming from ahead of me, followed by tiny flecks of concrete falling from a gap in the ceiling about ten feet away.
A moment later, a Dreg dropped into view, landing in an easy crouch dead ahead. Looking through the rifles cracked sights, I saw four glowing white eyes lock onto me, and a faint chill of horror settled into my stomach at just how alien it truly looked. Not wasting any time, I squeezed the trigger. Clean shot, center of mass.
And I missed.
With a speed I sure didn’t expect, the Dreg darted down and to the side, easily avoiding my fire. The next thing I knew, bolts of that blue-white light the Ghost had called Arc energy were flying at me, and I fled back into the bathroom for cover. “Fast little bastard,” I muttered to myself, flinching back as several tiles shattered next to me.
“Should we double back?” asked the Ghost.
“No, they’ll surround us for sure that way. Only real option’s to break through-” The gunfire paused, and I took the opening, stepping out into the corridor again. Finding the Dreg was easy enough, as now that it had sprung its attempted ambush, it had nowhere to take cover. Looking up from reloading its weapon, it snarled at me and prepared to dodge, This time however, I was ready for the things speed, and it took several rounds to the chest and head, dropping it. Briefly, silence settled on the hallway, but it was quickly broken by the animalistic shouts of other aliens in the distance.
Cursing to myself, I started moving forward, but just as I passed the corpse, the Ghost told me to stop. “We don’t have time-” I began, but it cut me off.
“That pouch on its belt, open it up.” I frowned, but did as it instructed, finding a strange block of white crystal inside. Before I could take a good look at it, it disintegrated in a flash of light, and I responded by jumping up and shaking my fingers like they’d been burned.“Preprogrammed smartmatter,” the damn robot explained, sounding rather proud of itself. “This form’s used to store ammunition, which I can convert to a form your rifle can use.”
“Right, good, okay,” I replied, getting my breathing under control. Sure, ammo was good, but the little demon still could have warned me it was going to do that. “Can we go now?”
“We probably should.”
Thankfully, whatever map the Ghost had come up with was accurate, because just as it had said, the corridor led back to that catwalk I’d seen those Fallen cross earlier. Unfortunately, the platform in front of that catwalk was currently occupied by a pair of Dregs and a Vandal, all of which appeared to be quite mad at me. One of the Dregs snarled something at the top of its lungs, waved a pair of knives in the air, and promptly charged me. My response was to instinctively shoot the bastard long before he reached me, sending him crashing into a pile of old plastic shipping containers. Given he was still on the far side of the room, this was probably a mistake, but in my defense, those knives looked like they belonged in a slasher movie and I didn’t want them anywhere near me.
Either way, it left me with two serious problems. First was the fact that the other two Fallen had used the chance to move to better cover. Second, my gun was empty. I’d forgotten to reload, and thus, was now standing out in the open without bullets. Suitably terrified, I glanced around the room, then ran towards the first solid object I saw, even as I dropped the now empty magazine. “You said you were making me more ammo, right?” I gasped, diving behind my new cover.
“It’s ready, left hand!” came the reply, my fingers tingling from that teleport effect again, and the sudden weight of a fresh magazine appeared. Fumbling slightly, I managed to reload the gun, a moment before a pair of arc bolts grazed my helmet. For a moment, I froze, stunned, then swore as I realized I’d chosen to take cover behind a plastic box. Cursing my stupidity, I scrambled to my feet, then ran towards a nearby concrete pillar.
Pain ripped through my left shoulder, racing down my arm and across my chest. Gasping, I managed to make it behind the pillar in something of a controlled fall, leaning against it and taking a breath before looking down. A large piece of armor over my bicep was missing, and the flesh underneath… “Guardian, focus on my voice,” Ghost said, voice low and determined. “I’m monitoring your armors health monitors. I know it hurts, but it’s only the skin. You can make it through this.”
Taking a breath, I forced the nausea back. The pain was real, but I couldn’t let it dominate me. If it did, the Fallen would kill me. And then they would probably destroy Ghost as well. I couldn’t let that happen. I was starting to like the little robot, and besides, it still owed me a proper explanation for what was happening.
The pain faded somewhat, and the world came back into focus. I could hear one of the Fallen saying something in its native tongue, an odd series of barks that echoed oddly. But the other had gone quiet, not speaking or firing its weapons. I focused my attention and listened.
Above, claws scraped against metal, and I spun, bringing my rifle up. My left arm burned with pain, but I ignored it as I saw the Vandals crawling along the ceiling, two arms grabbing at handholds, the other two holding a large, misshapen rifle. Realizing it was seen, it brought the rifle around and took aim, a blue-white glow forming at the tip.
It seemed that alien rayguns needed time to charge before firing. My Khvostov didn’t. I hit the bastard right in the center of its row of eyes, taking the head clean off. To my surprise, there was no blood. Instead, a grey-white light leaked from the wound, evaporating into the air. “Huh,” I panted, watching as the body fell off the ceiling, landing awkwardly over a railing. Then, remembering the Vandal hadn’t been alone, I turned my attention to the Dreg.
Snarling furiously, the creature had stepped out from behind the overturned table it had been using for cover, and was holding a long stick whose tip was visibly crackling with energy. “Grenade!” Ghost yelled. My eyes widened, and I promptly shot the crazy alien mid-throw. It was a wild shot, barely clipping the Fallen, but it still made it drop the grenade. The Dreg froze, staring at the bomb at its feet in what I suspect was horror. Meanwhile I turned and ran like hell across the catwalk.
I expected fire, flames, debris, everything movies have taught us to expect from grenades. Instead, I heard a series of sharp cracks, and a flash of light I was quickly coming to associate with Arc energy. Reaching the other side of the catwalk, I turned back, then had to stop and stare. Small pulses of the blue-white energy were dancing over the floor and the unlucky Dregs corpse, occasionally causing a small burst of sparks when they touched something conductive. “Huh. You know, I expected more…”
“Boom?” Ghost offered.
“Yeah, that.” Groaning, I leaned against the catwalk railing, taking deep breaths to push down the pain. “God dammit.” Feeling my hands start to shake, even as my breathing sped up, I closed my eyes for a moment. This wasn’t the time, not yet. I could have a nice breakdown later, when I was away from murderous monsters. Thankfully, the terror began to recede slightly, the shaking fading away. Opening my eyes, I looked back across the catwalk, watching the last of the arc energy fade away. As the crackling came to an end however, another noise caught my ear. Chittering, hisses and barks, the sounds I was quickly coming to recognise as the language of the Fallen. And it was coming from the corridors behind me. Great.
Checking my rifle, I prepared myself for yet another fight, but as I turned, I caught sight of a small alcove, tucked away in the corner just past the hallway. It was probably a cupboard before time and rust hollowed it out, but now, with a little luck... “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Ghost noted as I ducked into my new hiding spot.
“Honestly, neither am I,” I admitted as I managed to reload the Khvostov. “But I’ve already been shot once today. Another fight right now probably won’t end well. Now quiet.” Pressing myself as tight as I could against the back wall, I listened as the voices came ever closer. Eventually, they reached the steps up to the catwalk and, without slowing down, continued on over to the other side. I didn’t dare look, just in case one of them was looking back, or lingering behind the rest, but at a guess, there were probably at least four or five of them.
“Well, I’m in your head right now, so they can’t hear me,” Ghost pointed out. “Which is actually a good thing, because it lets me explain something important. Something I haven’t been able to tell you about yet. Take a look at your arm, where you were shot.” Frowning, I realized that the pain was starting to recede, feeling more like an ache than the burning sensation from earlier. Looking down, I blinked in surprise. A minute ago, my skin had been burned away, revealing the flesh underneath. Now though, the skin was back, a soft golden-brown that almost seemed to glow as the pain faded away completely. A moment later, the bodysuit I was wearing began to repair itself as well, new material seemingly growing from the edges of the tear.
Before I could say anything, and probably get us both killed, Ghost began to explain. “Your armor isn’t the best, given I had to use whatever materials were around, but I was still able to include a basic self-repair system. But your own healing, that comes from somewhere else. You are a Guardian,” it said, its voice low, almost… reverent. “Your soul is a conduit for the Travelers Light, a power unlike anything else in the universe. The power to stand against the Darkness that threatens us all. Increased physical abilities, including regeneration, are part of the standard package, as it were.”
Even if the situation hadn’t been so dangerous, I doubt I would have been able to speak. Superpowers. Honest to god superpowers. Aliens, strange robots, and now superpowers. I thought back to when I’d run towards the Wall, only now realizing I’d never felt tired or even short of breath. And I might have even been running faster than I’d noticed. Grinning to myself, I listened to the sound of Fallen arguing in the distance. My chances of getting out of this madhouse might have just gone up a lot. At the same time though, there was something about what Ghost said that was bouncing around the back of my mind. Traveler. I’d heard that name somewhere before, somewhere important, but for now, the details seemed to elude me.
Shaking my head, I put the thought aside for the moment. Judging by the noise, at least a few Fallen were moving on, away from me. It made sense really. If they didn’t realize that they’d run past my hiding spot, the logical assumption was that I’d doubled back down a side corridor. Shifting slightly, I risked a quick peek, leaning out of my hiding spot as little as possible. On the other side of the catwalk stood two Dregs, their backs to me as they talked to each other. One of them growled something, then knelt down next to the corpse of the Vandal I’d fought earlier. Despite the situation, I winced slightly, feeling a slight stab of guilt. Yes, it had been trying to kill me, and I hadn’t really had any other choice but to fight back, but seeing one of its own kind mourn it-
Snarling, the other Dreg shoved the first one aside, before planting a foot on the corpse's chest, reaching down and pulling at something. I heard a rather disturbing crack, and the Dreg stumbled back, holding up a piece of armor in triumph. Understanding dawned on me, and the guilt faded away to nothing. “Typical,” Ghost muttered, clearly thinking the same thing. “You know, some people back in the City think that the entire Fallen culture is based around stealing anything they can from anyone that can’t stop them. It really would explain a lot.”
As the two Dregs began to fight over the body, I ducked into the corridor the’d originally emerged from, bringing my rifle up. Once I made certain nothing was going to pop out of hiding and attack, I started moving forward as quickly as I could while still staying quiet. “Hey, if it distracts them from following us I’m not sure we can really complain right now,” I whispered back.
***
It seemed that my earlier comments to Ghost had been more accurate than I would have thought. Despite the paranoia brought on by the fights, which led to us checking every corner and looking over my shoulder every five seconds, it appeared we’d actually managed to get past most of the Fallen lurking in the Wall. Soon enough, the narrow hallways came to an end, opening into what had once been a pump room of some sort, before time and looters had ripped the machinery apart. Now, it seemed like the Fallen had converted it into a living area of some sort, with various supplies and equipment stacked in corners, and red banners hanging on the walls.
Completing a sweep of the room, I looked up at the central banner, considering the symbol woven into it. The best description I could think of was three blades, shaped to look like an animal's skull. “What is this?” I asked Ghost as it appeared in the air next to my head.
“The symbol of the House of Devils,” it replied, running its scanner lights over the object. “Ever since the Battle of Twilight Gap, they’ve been the most active House on Earth. Or at least the most visible. The House of Kings are mostly in hiding, but they still pop up from time to time, plotting against the City.” Turning away from the banner, it flew around the room, scanning various supplies. “I’ve heard reports that Winter is mostly based on Venus these days, scavenging anything that’s survived the biosphere degradation,” it continued as it paused by one of the old pumps. Behind it, I tilted my head to the side thoughtfully, mentally filing Venus away as yet another interesting little detail of this strange world. “As for the Wolves, who knows? The last time anyone heard about them, they went up against the Reef. That didn’t go well for them,” it mused, twitching in what seemed like the robot version of a shudder, before pausing and turning back to me. “And you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” it asked, sounding sheepish.
Chuckling softly, I shook my head. “Not really, but it’s helping,” I replied. “Fair warning, I am going to interrogate you later. At length. Once a horde of four armed aliens aren’t trying to kill us. So we should probably keep moving,” I pointed out, my amusement fading. Bobbing up and down in a nod, Ghost flew back towards me, vanishing in a flicker of light again, and I set off for a side door that opened up into an old air vent. One that turned out to be slightly flooded, which I discovered by stepping right into a puddle. “Well, at least I know my boots are properly sealed,” I muttered, ignoring the giggling in the back of my head.
Trying to avoid the water, both on the ground and dripping from various cracks in the ceiling, I made my way down the tunnel, ducking between the blades of a fan that broke down an eternity ago. Surprisingly enough, there were still some fans slowly spinning further down, sending shadows spinning across the curved walls. Given the amount of light coming down the tunnel, there had to be an exit not that much further down. If I could get past the fans...
“There, on the right,” Ghost said suddenly, pointing out a doorway just before the next fan blades. “That should lead out into the Cosmodrome. There has to be something we can fly out of here.”
Bringing my rifle up, I entered the doorway and moved down the short tunnel. “Cosmodrome? Like the Baikonur Cosmodrome?” I asked, the word triggering something in my brain. It was like when Ghost had mentioned the Traveler. There was something about this place, something important to me, but once again, I couldn’t grasp the details. Then again, I’d been here, supposedly dead, when Ghost found me, so maybe it was as simple as that.
“Well, if the maps I found are accurate, yeah,” Ghost replied cheerfully, unaware of my thoughts. And then I emerged from the Wall and stepped into the Cosmodrome, rifle at the ready for any threats. Thankfully, while the first thing I saw would definitely have been a threat once, the tank had been left to the elements for centuries, leaving it nothing but a rusted husk. I caught sight of several more tanks, covered in rust and dirt, along with what was left of a truck and some shipping crates. Then I looked past them, past some old buildings, and looked up.
Spaceships. Visible in the distance, but still looking like they were the size of skyscrapers, were two spaceships, standing tall in their launch scaffolding. It was obvious even from this distance that they were as old and neglected as everything else around us, but even so, I still had to stop and take in the sight. They weren’t really a single craft, but multiple vessels fused together. Giant rockets, shuttlecraft of some sort, massive storage containers, and three spheres on top that I suspected were the size of city blocks. They were clearly designed to leave Earth as fast as possible, with as much mass as possible, and quite possibly never stop.
“Colony ships,” Ghost said quietly, as much awe in its voice as I was feeling right now. “Back in the Golden Age, hundreds of them launched from places like here. This is where humanity began its march to the stars.”
“I can’t think of anywhere more appropriate,” I replied, smiling softly. Gagarin’s legacy, continuing on from here. Incredible. Then the smile faded. “But the Golden Age didn’t last,” I noted as I walked past the tanks and along a decayed service road. “You say we climbed up, but it looks like we fell back down again.”
For a moment, the tiny machine didn’t reply. I took the time to jump down over a ledge to what had once been an unloading area for shipping containers. “We don’t know much about the Collapse,” it admitted. “Most of the records were destroyed, and the survivors either didn’t pass on the relevant details, or weren’t in the right place to know what happened. But we know it didn’t happen because of humanity. It was an attack.”
Frowning thoughtfully, I turned back in the direction of the Wall. “The Fallen?” I asked.
“They’re a symptom, not the disease,” Ghost said. It would have continued, except for the sudden rumbling noise that echoed across the Cosmodrome. Spinning towards the noise, I instinctively brought my rifle up, before my eyes widened and I lowered it again. After all, I couldn’t really imagine any gun having much effect against two massive cones of blue-white light, rippling out from a point in the sky. I watched as the light brightened in intensity, the noise growing louder by the second. “Jump point!” Ghost exclaimed, sounding horrified. “We’ve got a ship incoming, a big one!”
With a deafening roar, the rift exploded, sending a shockwave of energy racing across the sky. The wind that followed it knocked me back several feet as it passed, but I barely noticed it, my eyes locked on one of the two spaceships. Everything it had endured, centuries of neglect, the elements, probably the Fallen looting it, it all came to an end when that shockwave hit. As I stood there, the launch scaffolding buckled, the craft began to tilt, and then something inside the ancient vessel buckled. It snapped, just below the spheres, collapsing in on itself as it fell, and all I could do was watch as a piece of history died.
For a moment, I didn’t more, stunned by what I’d just seen. But then the roar of engines dragged my attention back to reality, and I looked towards the colony ships killer. “That’s… not a human look,” I said at last, watching the misshapen craft pass overhead. It was a bizarre sight, an asymmetrical mess, with a long, pointed bow, a gigantic engine hanging off the port side, and odd curves and bulges elsewhere.
“It can’t be. That’s a Fallen Ketch,” Ghost muttered, disbelieving. “They’ve never brought them so close to the surface before.”
Adjusting my grip on the Khvostov, I watched as half a dozen smaller ships in a similar design style appeared out of thin air, taking up positions around the Ketch. “Well, it looks like the Fallen decided to break from tradition,” I muttered. “I don’t think this is just a raiding party.”
“No, it’s not,” Ghost agreed, appearing next to me, even as the Ketch continued to fly away, passing out of sight behind the buildings. “That Ketch could have hundreds of soldiers on board, maybe more. That’s an occupation force. They’re planning on holding the Cosmodrome.”
Imagining an army of the vicious monsters I’d fought in the wall, I couldn’t help but shudder. Licking suddenly dry lips, I asked, “Do we need to go that way?”
Pausing to consider its maps for a moment, Ghost shook its body. “That path leads to the Rocketyards. It’s mostly heavy industry and train lines to supply the colony ships.” It turned around and pointed to the left, pretty much the exact opposite direction the Ketch had gone. “That way leads to the docks for smaller jumpships. And that’s probably our best bet for finding something we can fly, or at least getting further away from the Fallen - hey, wait up!” it protested, flying after me as I broke into a run before it could finish. “Just because I have anti-grav propulsion doesn’t mean I like high speed flying!”
***
That first gunfight with the Fallen had been brief and terrifying, but it had also been a warning. This place was falling apart, with all sorts of hiding spots and crawlspaces in every hallway. I wanted to run, to escape this Wall as quickly as possible, but all I’d achieve with that would be running into an ambush and probably dying. Instead, I moved slower, carefully, constantly checking behind me, or any suspicious gap in the ceiling. It was slow, yes, and I couldn’t help but worry I was giving them time to surround me anyway, but at least this way I had a decent chance of catching the four armed bastards before they shot me.
“We call the ones with two arms Dregs,” the Ghost explained as I paused behind a support pillar, sweeping the room for movement or suspicious holes in the wall. “From what we know of Fallen society, they’re pretty much at the bottom of the ladder.”
“Hence the name?” I whispered, moving forward towards a door. It was open just a crack, and whatever was on the other side, at least it looked like the lights were all on.
“More or less,” agreed the Ghost. “I haven’t exactly seen them fight much - A Ghost isn’t really suited for combat without a Guardian, so most of what I know about them comes from Vanguard reports on them. They say that most of the time, Dregs tend to use knives and shock pistols, with the occasional rifle. Oh, and they really like grenades,” it added, sounding slightly worried.
Glancing through the opening for signs of life, I couldn’t help but frown, understanding that worry well enough. The thought of facing explosives in these narrow corridors was terrifying, possibly even worse than the initial ‘aliens want to kill me’ nightmare. That said, it didn’t sound like a major concern, if only because I doubted they’d want to risk catching themselves in the blast. If I made it out of here and into the open however...
Unaware of my thoughts, the Ghost continued with its brief lesson. “In battle, they’re usually led by Vandals. Uh, those are the ones with four arms and bigger guns,” it added helpfully. “After that, there’s Captains, and Barons, and so on, but, well, I really hope there aren’t any of them here at the moment.”
Pressing my foot against the door, I slowly pushed it open, waiting for the squeal of rusted hinges to bring trouble running. This time, it seemed I was in luck, and I heard only the tiniest squeak before it was open enough to let me through into what looked like an old bunk room. “They’re not the friendliest sort, I assume?” I asked, grinning weakly at the unease in the robot's voice.
“They’re usually at least nine feet tall,” the Ghost said, its voice unnaturally flat. My tiny smile promptly vanished.
“Okay, yeah, no thanks.” Adding ‘Vanguard’ to my list of things to properly interrogate the robot about later, I dodged around the rusted frames that were once bed and moved to an open doorway across the room. It led to what had once been a small bathroom before something had taken out the far wall, revealing yet another corridor. Pausing, I tried to remember the recent twists and turns, then sighed. “Which way?”
“If you take a left here, it should lead back to that catwalk across the storeroom,” my guide replied. “And before you say anything, I know that risks us running into some of those Fallen, but it should also be the quickest way out of the Wall. We get out of here, we’ve got a better chance of disappearing, or maybe even finding a vehicle.”
Biting my lip slightly, I thought about that, then nodded. “Risk vs reward, I suppose.” Sighing, I stepped out into the hallway. Before I could say anything else, the sound of movement caught my attention. Soft, barely audible, but it was still enough to make me tense, bringing the Khvostov up. For several seconds, there was nothing. Then I heard it a second time, a scraping noise, coming from ahead of me, followed by tiny flecks of concrete falling from a gap in the ceiling about ten feet away.
A moment later, a Dreg dropped into view, landing in an easy crouch dead ahead. Looking through the rifles cracked sights, I saw four glowing white eyes lock onto me, and a faint chill of horror settled into my stomach at just how alien it truly looked. Not wasting any time, I squeezed the trigger. Clean shot, center of mass.
And I missed.
With a speed I sure didn’t expect, the Dreg darted down and to the side, easily avoiding my fire. The next thing I knew, bolts of that blue-white light the Ghost had called Arc energy were flying at me, and I fled back into the bathroom for cover. “Fast little bastard,” I muttered to myself, flinching back as several tiles shattered next to me.
“Should we double back?” asked the Ghost.
“No, they’ll surround us for sure that way. Only real option’s to break through-” The gunfire paused, and I took the opening, stepping out into the corridor again. Finding the Dreg was easy enough, as now that it had sprung its attempted ambush, it had nowhere to take cover. Looking up from reloading its weapon, it snarled at me and prepared to dodge, This time however, I was ready for the things speed, and it took several rounds to the chest and head, dropping it. Briefly, silence settled on the hallway, but it was quickly broken by the animalistic shouts of other aliens in the distance.
Cursing to myself, I started moving forward, but just as I passed the corpse, the Ghost told me to stop. “We don’t have time-” I began, but it cut me off.
“That pouch on its belt, open it up.” I frowned, but did as it instructed, finding a strange block of white crystal inside. Before I could take a good look at it, it disintegrated in a flash of light, and I responded by jumping up and shaking my fingers like they’d been burned.“Preprogrammed smartmatter,” the damn robot explained, sounding rather proud of itself. “This form’s used to store ammunition, which I can convert to a form your rifle can use.”
“Right, good, okay,” I replied, getting my breathing under control. Sure, ammo was good, but the little demon still could have warned me it was going to do that. “Can we go now?”
“We probably should.”
Thankfully, whatever map the Ghost had come up with was accurate, because just as it had said, the corridor led back to that catwalk I’d seen those Fallen cross earlier. Unfortunately, the platform in front of that catwalk was currently occupied by a pair of Dregs and a Vandal, all of which appeared to be quite mad at me. One of the Dregs snarled something at the top of its lungs, waved a pair of knives in the air, and promptly charged me. My response was to instinctively shoot the bastard long before he reached me, sending him crashing into a pile of old plastic shipping containers. Given he was still on the far side of the room, this was probably a mistake, but in my defense, those knives looked like they belonged in a slasher movie and I didn’t want them anywhere near me.
Either way, it left me with two serious problems. First was the fact that the other two Fallen had used the chance to move to better cover. Second, my gun was empty. I’d forgotten to reload, and thus, was now standing out in the open without bullets. Suitably terrified, I glanced around the room, then ran towards the first solid object I saw, even as I dropped the now empty magazine. “You said you were making me more ammo, right?” I gasped, diving behind my new cover.
“It’s ready, left hand!” came the reply, my fingers tingling from that teleport effect again, and the sudden weight of a fresh magazine appeared. Fumbling slightly, I managed to reload the gun, a moment before a pair of arc bolts grazed my helmet. For a moment, I froze, stunned, then swore as I realized I’d chosen to take cover behind a plastic box. Cursing my stupidity, I scrambled to my feet, then ran towards a nearby concrete pillar.
Pain ripped through my left shoulder, racing down my arm and across my chest. Gasping, I managed to make it behind the pillar in something of a controlled fall, leaning against it and taking a breath before looking down. A large piece of armor over my bicep was missing, and the flesh underneath… “Guardian, focus on my voice,” Ghost said, voice low and determined. “I’m monitoring your armors health monitors. I know it hurts, but it’s only the skin. You can make it through this.”
Taking a breath, I forced the nausea back. The pain was real, but I couldn’t let it dominate me. If it did, the Fallen would kill me. And then they would probably destroy Ghost as well. I couldn’t let that happen. I was starting to like the little robot, and besides, it still owed me a proper explanation for what was happening.
The pain faded somewhat, and the world came back into focus. I could hear one of the Fallen saying something in its native tongue, an odd series of barks that echoed oddly. But the other had gone quiet, not speaking or firing its weapons. I focused my attention and listened.
Above, claws scraped against metal, and I spun, bringing my rifle up. My left arm burned with pain, but I ignored it as I saw the Vandals crawling along the ceiling, two arms grabbing at handholds, the other two holding a large, misshapen rifle. Realizing it was seen, it brought the rifle around and took aim, a blue-white glow forming at the tip.
It seemed that alien rayguns needed time to charge before firing. My Khvostov didn’t. I hit the bastard right in the center of its row of eyes, taking the head clean off. To my surprise, there was no blood. Instead, a grey-white light leaked from the wound, evaporating into the air. “Huh,” I panted, watching as the body fell off the ceiling, landing awkwardly over a railing. Then, remembering the Vandal hadn’t been alone, I turned my attention to the Dreg.
Snarling furiously, the creature had stepped out from behind the overturned table it had been using for cover, and was holding a long stick whose tip was visibly crackling with energy. “Grenade!” Ghost yelled. My eyes widened, and I promptly shot the crazy alien mid-throw. It was a wild shot, barely clipping the Fallen, but it still made it drop the grenade. The Dreg froze, staring at the bomb at its feet in what I suspect was horror. Meanwhile I turned and ran like hell across the catwalk.
I expected fire, flames, debris, everything movies have taught us to expect from grenades. Instead, I heard a series of sharp cracks, and a flash of light I was quickly coming to associate with Arc energy. Reaching the other side of the catwalk, I turned back, then had to stop and stare. Small pulses of the blue-white energy were dancing over the floor and the unlucky Dregs corpse, occasionally causing a small burst of sparks when they touched something conductive. “Huh. You know, I expected more…”
“Boom?” Ghost offered.
“Yeah, that.” Groaning, I leaned against the catwalk railing, taking deep breaths to push down the pain. “God dammit.” Feeling my hands start to shake, even as my breathing sped up, I closed my eyes for a moment. This wasn’t the time, not yet. I could have a nice breakdown later, when I was away from murderous monsters. Thankfully, the terror began to recede slightly, the shaking fading away. Opening my eyes, I looked back across the catwalk, watching the last of the arc energy fade away. As the crackling came to an end however, another noise caught my ear. Chittering, hisses and barks, the sounds I was quickly coming to recognise as the language of the Fallen. And it was coming from the corridors behind me. Great.
Checking my rifle, I prepared myself for yet another fight, but as I turned, I caught sight of a small alcove, tucked away in the corner just past the hallway. It was probably a cupboard before time and rust hollowed it out, but now, with a little luck... “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Ghost noted as I ducked into my new hiding spot.
“Honestly, neither am I,” I admitted as I managed to reload the Khvostov. “But I’ve already been shot once today. Another fight right now probably won’t end well. Now quiet.” Pressing myself as tight as I could against the back wall, I listened as the voices came ever closer. Eventually, they reached the steps up to the catwalk and, without slowing down, continued on over to the other side. I didn’t dare look, just in case one of them was looking back, or lingering behind the rest, but at a guess, there were probably at least four or five of them.
“Well, I’m in your head right now, so they can’t hear me,” Ghost pointed out. “Which is actually a good thing, because it lets me explain something important. Something I haven’t been able to tell you about yet. Take a look at your arm, where you were shot.” Frowning, I realized that the pain was starting to recede, feeling more like an ache than the burning sensation from earlier. Looking down, I blinked in surprise. A minute ago, my skin had been burned away, revealing the flesh underneath. Now though, the skin was back, a soft golden-brown that almost seemed to glow as the pain faded away completely. A moment later, the bodysuit I was wearing began to repair itself as well, new material seemingly growing from the edges of the tear.
Before I could say anything, and probably get us both killed, Ghost began to explain. “Your armor isn’t the best, given I had to use whatever materials were around, but I was still able to include a basic self-repair system. But your own healing, that comes from somewhere else. You are a Guardian,” it said, its voice low, almost… reverent. “Your soul is a conduit for the Travelers Light, a power unlike anything else in the universe. The power to stand against the Darkness that threatens us all. Increased physical abilities, including regeneration, are part of the standard package, as it were.”
Even if the situation hadn’t been so dangerous, I doubt I would have been able to speak. Superpowers. Honest to god superpowers. Aliens, strange robots, and now superpowers. I thought back to when I’d run towards the Wall, only now realizing I’d never felt tired or even short of breath. And I might have even been running faster than I’d noticed. Grinning to myself, I listened to the sound of Fallen arguing in the distance. My chances of getting out of this madhouse might have just gone up a lot. At the same time though, there was something about what Ghost said that was bouncing around the back of my mind. Traveler. I’d heard that name somewhere before, somewhere important, but for now, the details seemed to elude me.
Shaking my head, I put the thought aside for the moment. Judging by the noise, at least a few Fallen were moving on, away from me. It made sense really. If they didn’t realize that they’d run past my hiding spot, the logical assumption was that I’d doubled back down a side corridor. Shifting slightly, I risked a quick peek, leaning out of my hiding spot as little as possible. On the other side of the catwalk stood two Dregs, their backs to me as they talked to each other. One of them growled something, then knelt down next to the corpse of the Vandal I’d fought earlier. Despite the situation, I winced slightly, feeling a slight stab of guilt. Yes, it had been trying to kill me, and I hadn’t really had any other choice but to fight back, but seeing one of its own kind mourn it-
Snarling, the other Dreg shoved the first one aside, before planting a foot on the corpse's chest, reaching down and pulling at something. I heard a rather disturbing crack, and the Dreg stumbled back, holding up a piece of armor in triumph. Understanding dawned on me, and the guilt faded away to nothing. “Typical,” Ghost muttered, clearly thinking the same thing. “You know, some people back in the City think that the entire Fallen culture is based around stealing anything they can from anyone that can’t stop them. It really would explain a lot.”
As the two Dregs began to fight over the body, I ducked into the corridor the’d originally emerged from, bringing my rifle up. Once I made certain nothing was going to pop out of hiding and attack, I started moving forward as quickly as I could while still staying quiet. “Hey, if it distracts them from following us I’m not sure we can really complain right now,” I whispered back.
***
It seemed that my earlier comments to Ghost had been more accurate than I would have thought. Despite the paranoia brought on by the fights, which led to us checking every corner and looking over my shoulder every five seconds, it appeared we’d actually managed to get past most of the Fallen lurking in the Wall. Soon enough, the narrow hallways came to an end, opening into what had once been a pump room of some sort, before time and looters had ripped the machinery apart. Now, it seemed like the Fallen had converted it into a living area of some sort, with various supplies and equipment stacked in corners, and red banners hanging on the walls.
Completing a sweep of the room, I looked up at the central banner, considering the symbol woven into it. The best description I could think of was three blades, shaped to look like an animal's skull. “What is this?” I asked Ghost as it appeared in the air next to my head.
“The symbol of the House of Devils,” it replied, running its scanner lights over the object. “Ever since the Battle of Twilight Gap, they’ve been the most active House on Earth. Or at least the most visible. The House of Kings are mostly in hiding, but they still pop up from time to time, plotting against the City.” Turning away from the banner, it flew around the room, scanning various supplies. “I’ve heard reports that Winter is mostly based on Venus these days, scavenging anything that’s survived the biosphere degradation,” it continued as it paused by one of the old pumps. Behind it, I tilted my head to the side thoughtfully, mentally filing Venus away as yet another interesting little detail of this strange world. “As for the Wolves, who knows? The last time anyone heard about them, they went up against the Reef. That didn’t go well for them,” it mused, twitching in what seemed like the robot version of a shudder, before pausing and turning back to me. “And you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” it asked, sounding sheepish.
Chuckling softly, I shook my head. “Not really, but it’s helping,” I replied. “Fair warning, I am going to interrogate you later. At length. Once a horde of four armed aliens aren’t trying to kill us. So we should probably keep moving,” I pointed out, my amusement fading. Bobbing up and down in a nod, Ghost flew back towards me, vanishing in a flicker of light again, and I set off for a side door that opened up into an old air vent. One that turned out to be slightly flooded, which I discovered by stepping right into a puddle. “Well, at least I know my boots are properly sealed,” I muttered, ignoring the giggling in the back of my head.
Trying to avoid the water, both on the ground and dripping from various cracks in the ceiling, I made my way down the tunnel, ducking between the blades of a fan that broke down an eternity ago. Surprisingly enough, there were still some fans slowly spinning further down, sending shadows spinning across the curved walls. Given the amount of light coming down the tunnel, there had to be an exit not that much further down. If I could get past the fans...
“There, on the right,” Ghost said suddenly, pointing out a doorway just before the next fan blades. “That should lead out into the Cosmodrome. There has to be something we can fly out of here.”
Bringing my rifle up, I entered the doorway and moved down the short tunnel. “Cosmodrome? Like the Baikonur Cosmodrome?” I asked, the word triggering something in my brain. It was like when Ghost had mentioned the Traveler. There was something about this place, something important to me, but once again, I couldn’t grasp the details. Then again, I’d been here, supposedly dead, when Ghost found me, so maybe it was as simple as that.
“Well, if the maps I found are accurate, yeah,” Ghost replied cheerfully, unaware of my thoughts. And then I emerged from the Wall and stepped into the Cosmodrome, rifle at the ready for any threats. Thankfully, while the first thing I saw would definitely have been a threat once, the tank had been left to the elements for centuries, leaving it nothing but a rusted husk. I caught sight of several more tanks, covered in rust and dirt, along with what was left of a truck and some shipping crates. Then I looked past them, past some old buildings, and looked up.
Spaceships. Visible in the distance, but still looking like they were the size of skyscrapers, were two spaceships, standing tall in their launch scaffolding. It was obvious even from this distance that they were as old and neglected as everything else around us, but even so, I still had to stop and take in the sight. They weren’t really a single craft, but multiple vessels fused together. Giant rockets, shuttlecraft of some sort, massive storage containers, and three spheres on top that I suspected were the size of city blocks. They were clearly designed to leave Earth as fast as possible, with as much mass as possible, and quite possibly never stop.
“Colony ships,” Ghost said quietly, as much awe in its voice as I was feeling right now. “Back in the Golden Age, hundreds of them launched from places like here. This is where humanity began its march to the stars.”
“I can’t think of anywhere more appropriate,” I replied, smiling softly. Gagarin’s legacy, continuing on from here. Incredible. Then the smile faded. “But the Golden Age didn’t last,” I noted as I walked past the tanks and along a decayed service road. “You say we climbed up, but it looks like we fell back down again.”
For a moment, the tiny machine didn’t reply. I took the time to jump down over a ledge to what had once been an unloading area for shipping containers. “We don’t know much about the Collapse,” it admitted. “Most of the records were destroyed, and the survivors either didn’t pass on the relevant details, or weren’t in the right place to know what happened. But we know it didn’t happen because of humanity. It was an attack.”
Frowning thoughtfully, I turned back in the direction of the Wall. “The Fallen?” I asked.
“They’re a symptom, not the disease,” Ghost said. It would have continued, except for the sudden rumbling noise that echoed across the Cosmodrome. Spinning towards the noise, I instinctively brought my rifle up, before my eyes widened and I lowered it again. After all, I couldn’t really imagine any gun having much effect against two massive cones of blue-white light, rippling out from a point in the sky. I watched as the light brightened in intensity, the noise growing louder by the second. “Jump point!” Ghost exclaimed, sounding horrified. “We’ve got a ship incoming, a big one!”
With a deafening roar, the rift exploded, sending a shockwave of energy racing across the sky. The wind that followed it knocked me back several feet as it passed, but I barely noticed it, my eyes locked on one of the two spaceships. Everything it had endured, centuries of neglect, the elements, probably the Fallen looting it, it all came to an end when that shockwave hit. As I stood there, the launch scaffolding buckled, the craft began to tilt, and then something inside the ancient vessel buckled. It snapped, just below the spheres, collapsing in on itself as it fell, and all I could do was watch as a piece of history died.
For a moment, I didn’t more, stunned by what I’d just seen. But then the roar of engines dragged my attention back to reality, and I looked towards the colony ships killer. “That’s… not a human look,” I said at last, watching the misshapen craft pass overhead. It was a bizarre sight, an asymmetrical mess, with a long, pointed bow, a gigantic engine hanging off the port side, and odd curves and bulges elsewhere.
“It can’t be. That’s a Fallen Ketch,” Ghost muttered, disbelieving. “They’ve never brought them so close to the surface before.”
Adjusting my grip on the Khvostov, I watched as half a dozen smaller ships in a similar design style appeared out of thin air, taking up positions around the Ketch. “Well, it looks like the Fallen decided to break from tradition,” I muttered. “I don’t think this is just a raiding party.”
“No, it’s not,” Ghost agreed, appearing next to me, even as the Ketch continued to fly away, passing out of sight behind the buildings. “That Ketch could have hundreds of soldiers on board, maybe more. That’s an occupation force. They’re planning on holding the Cosmodrome.”
Imagining an army of the vicious monsters I’d fought in the wall, I couldn’t help but shudder. Licking suddenly dry lips, I asked, “Do we need to go that way?”
Pausing to consider its maps for a moment, Ghost shook its body. “That path leads to the Rocketyards. It’s mostly heavy industry and train lines to supply the colony ships.” It turned around and pointed to the left, pretty much the exact opposite direction the Ketch had gone. “That way leads to the docks for smaller jumpships. And that’s probably our best bet for finding something we can fly, or at least getting further away from the Fallen - hey, wait up!” it protested, flying after me as I broke into a run before it could finish. “Just because I have anti-grav propulsion doesn’t mean I like high speed flying!”
***