The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (8 page)

8

THE SPIDER'S SHIELD

On the morning of the mission to Fever Island, the shadow of the Thrall flagship, "Lunar Wrath", could be seen sweeping across the coldness of the ocean waves. Inside, I was looking through the ship's transparent shell, finding that I couldn't get my mind off of Sentria. I was assigned to a different squad and we wouldn't be able to look out for one another as much as I'd hoped.

Our relationship was widely known and those in charge wanted to avoid lending us any kind of special treatment. They didn't want to risk our focus being spent solely on each other, setting aside the needs of the legion and the mission itself. We both understood perfectly, but what command didn't realize was that our focus would only be strained all the more if separated. When not together, all we ever did was think about the other.

Deep in the hull, a legion of thirty of us were lined up in formation and awaiting orders. Every operative was assigned a jet pack, all clad in strange suits from the Blood Tech warehouse that I had found activated in the forest just one day before. The energy armor was robust and muscular. Its fitted form brought me confidence in wearing it.

Neon lighting, woven into the suits, had all been color coded for each individual squad of three. With thirty of us, it was a total of ten squads. Along with Nix, I was assigned to Lime Squad. Commander Zero had his blue Azure Squad. Sentria led Ivory and the others were all call signed with the likes of Coral, Scarlet, and so on.

What was odd about our suits wasn't necessarily the colors woven subtly into the fabrics. There was a triangular patch in the armor that had been placed just right over every operative's sternum. The triangle was black and reflective. From its three angles, strange veins stretched out into an interlaced network over the entire suit. Sentria, a Squad Captain always in the know, informed me that the patches were conduits for the Blood Tech. What she didn't tell me was what it was going to be used for.

Our Commander walked into the upper bay platform that formed a bridge across the hull. The beefy man sifted a hand over his freshly buzzed white hair and paced up to the guard rail. The legion saluted him from below. Zero then turned to one side and proceeded to stand at attention, placing his right fist over his heart.

Behind the Commander, the bay doors slid open to either side. In the entrance was the silhouette of a titan. A man among animals. A ghost among men. His dark skin hid his frame in the shadows. All we could see were two glowing purple eyes staring out from within. From the darkness of the bay's lift, the Overlord stepped into the light.

Throughout the spectating ranks, it was a moment of awe. I told myself to remember that moment. It was nothing we could actually physically see that made us awestruck. Instead, it was a sort of presence that made us feel reverent.

Fossil served as the harbinger for Deadstock's entry. "All hail the Overlord!"

"Hail, Overlord!" The legion beckoned back, all at once, down on one knee with fists over our hearts. "Hail, Overlord!"

Up on the platform bridge, Fossil greeted him with a lowered head as Deadstock stepped forth from the lift's exit. Old acquaintances, the Overlord paused and extended an empty hand toward the Australian. Fossil raised his gaze from the floor, met him in the eye, and put up his own hand. The two then shook. It was the first time the two of them had seen each other since the Last Day of the Last War. They swapped no words. Their eyes said everything. There was no need for anything more.

Fossil appeared apologetic as if he might be burdening himself with an offense from long ago. Maybe it was some kind of guilt regarding the Last War. Whatever it was, time had healed it for Deadstock and the firm shake of his hand was attempting to pass that healing on to Fossil.

The Overlord wasn't in a regular suit like the rest of us. In fact he wasn't even wearing a field helmet or any kind of battle armor at all. From what I hear, he never did. On his lower half, the Overlord wore a traditional pair of Thrall fatigues, patterned with a dark camouflage print and tucked into his thick traveler boots.

A jet pack was strapped to the broad of his back and his shades were sifted up onto his short black hair. He had geared up in a light protective vest that would do little in battle except to accentuate the massiveness of his bare arms. The center of the vest was marked with a simple symbol. It was the mark of the Thralldom, a pyramid with a flame hovering over the peak.

Like the rest of the legion, he had a few neon markings on his vest and pants, but his gear carried no affiliation with any squad in particular. He was all lit up purple, the only one among us to be call signed with Squad Violet, a singular squad of his own. Besides the jet pack, he had no other attached armaments besides his prevailing piece and blade, the Dragon's Throat and the Dragon's Tooth. I highly anticipated to see what those things could do in battle.

"Incoming message from United Corps," said a loud, deep voice that had modulated from the overhead speakers.

The voice had broken the moment of enchantment for the legion. It was the Far Stranger, Deadstock's personal artificial intelligence. The synthetic life form had integrated itself into the mainframe system of the Thralldom, including that of our flagship, the "Lunar Wrath."

"Bring it up on the main screen," directed Commander Zero.

Together, both Zero and the Overlord stepped to up to the guardrail of the platform bridge. A giant holographic screen then appeared before them. Down on the floor of the hull below, the three dimensional display was high above our heads. I couldn't see much from my point of view, but I could tell it was the holograph of a woman's face.

"This is President Nightwood of the United Corps," the giant face informed. "My ship, the 'Beast of Burden,' is coming up on your broadside. Make ready to receive."

"President Nightwood, this is Thrall Commander Zero of the 'Lunar Wrath,'" he replied. "Perhaps, I should remind you that I've already received the proper clearance. You gave it to me personally, remember?"

"I am well aware of that, Commander," retorted Nightwood.

The Commander uncomfortably asked, "Then what are you doing out here? You never mentioned that you were coming along to look over my shoulder. This isn't going to be a safe day for gathering data, Ms. Nightwood."

She revealed with a snarl, "I have not come to observe out of mere curiosity, Thrall. I have come to relay you an escort. 'Lunar Wrath,' prepare to be boarded."

From the side of the "Lunar Wrath's" translucent hull, I could see Nightwood's enormous aircraft sifting through the clouds beside us. Her ship, the "Beast of Burden," was a clunky chunk of metal that had probably seen better days. It was steel built and made to last and withstand just about anything. The United Corps flagship had all the scrapes, scuffs, and holes to prove it had seen a fair share of hardships.

For all its durability, the "Beast of Burden" was thought to be as good as junk compared to the sleek ships of the Thralldom, but that was always a pretentious analysis. There'd only ever be one way to know whose aircraft was truly the better design, but the peace treaty between the United Corps and the Thralldom would never condone in finding out.

With a roll of his eyes, Zero refused hospitality. "United Corps, stand aside. We have a full operation already underway. There is no additional support needed at this time."

Nightwood lively refuted, "I was not sending you a request, Commander. The mission to Fever Island has been sanctioned by the people of the Free World. You will comply with our jurisdiction!"

"Interference of any kind could jeopardize the mission's integrity," Zero exclaimed. "I will not risk failure due to whatever your jarhead agenda is trying to accomplish."

The President yelled back, "This is not a negotiation!"

"Ember," began Deadstock as he calmly and cautiously decided to intervene.

"Doctor, please refrain from addressing me with casual identifications over the radio," interrupted Nightwood, somewhat insulted. "You will address me as President or you will not address me at all."

Deadstock was stunned at the outburst. I couldn't tell if he was upset at being scolded or if it was something more. There was a history there, a once blossoming connection now forbidden by the restraints of current events.

"President Nightwood," the Overlord carefully addressed as he started off on a ranting description of details. "This engagement is to be carried out through a highly dangerous, non-protocoled procedure of insertion. With the risk so high, any involvement by the United Corps would be ill-advised, especially given the fact that the safety of the lives of your troops would be under the complete responsibility of the Thralldom. I cannot guarantee their safety."

Shocked, she interrogated in return, "What exactly is it that you plan on doing out there?"

"As of right now, that is classified information under my supervision, but if you desire a debriefing after the mission's completion, I can arrange it." He then vowed, "I always keep my word."

She had to mull it over for a few seconds. In this wasteland world, it's practically unheard of for a promise to be given, or even kept for that matter, but she believed him. We could all see it in her holographic face. It was as if their history with each other stood as plain as day for everyone to see.

She soon broke the pause to conclude her consideration, "Make contact as soon as you return and we will rendezvous for a debriefing. That is an absolute order."

"I'll be there," the Overlord pledged.

"I will be waiting," the President declared. "United Corps, out." With that, her face disappeared and the three dimensional screen vanished from our sight.

Zero nodded in approval and placed a reassuring hand on Deadstock's shoulder, "Back when my brother and I lived in the outback, we used to say that if you want to make something happen, then you've got to send an Australian to do it right. On the other hand, if all you want to do is stop something from happening, you don't even have to ask before an American decides to stand in the way, all on their own. I'll tell you this, though, if that hardheaded politician that you once called your wife comes to stand in my way, I'll make sure she'll never forget the day she came between me and my prize."

"Without a doubt," said Deadstock advantageously. He seemed to be pondering what kind of prize Zero was exactly after. "If what you say is true, then it's a good thing we've got a couple Australians on our side. The time has come to make ready, Commander."

The Overlord then dipped his head in appreciation before turning his attention to the legion below. For a while, Deadstock said nothing. He just stared at us and we just stared at him. In the silence, he must have wanted to say something like a stirring speech, but probably couldn't find a good enough reason to do so. As an alternative, he took the approach of a teacher, having just entered a classroom. Without any kind of formal greeting, he chose to jump straight into giving instruction, not losing another moment.

"Each of you are equipped with specialized conduits on your armor," he began. "By now, I'm sure word has gotten around, or in the very least, you have guessed what these devices might be. They're conduits for the Blood Tech."

Those that knew, they nodded. Those that didn't know, they began to mumble to each other in surprise. The Overlord raised a hand to regain the legion's attention, continuing on with the lesson.

"I know what you must be thinking, but it's the only way you'll ever step foot on Fever Island." He went on, "Infused within me is the master control to all of the Blood Tech. It's called the Wandering Star. My body is conjoined with it, empowering me to manipulate my own physical matter at a molecular level. This allows me to essentially place my body's data into a state of near suspended animation. I can then transfer that data to any location that I can safely gage. This phenomenon is known as weaving. Up until the Last Day of the Last War, when I made the first weave, it was just a theory. The conduits on your suits will now make it a reality for all of you, but first, I need your blood to create the link."

The ominous artificial intelligence, the Far Stranger, then spoke out over the loudspeakers, "Acquiring plasma cell procedures. Standby."

I hated that voice. Time and again, it was making me increasingly uneasy whenever I heard it. Why couldn't the technology have been fitted with the soothing persona of a lady? The Far Stranger always sounded like a devil had given life to its words.

Not long after, the triangular patches over our sternums began to glow purple. My suit began to tingle and prick. The conduit stung like a hundred little needles piercing into my chest until I found myself numbed to the sensation. I knew what it meant. It was my body joining with the suit.

"If you're experiencing any kind of pain, don't be alarmed. It just means it's working," the Overlord supported. "The Blood Tech is accessing your bloodstream for fuel. In order for me to achieve a precise transference during the weave, your suit and your body must be one and the same. Without your blood, I won't be able to find you, only you're conduit. As soon as you've established a link with the Blood Tech, your conduit should've changed to a purple tint, just like my eyes. This violet luminescence signifies that your blood has corresponded with the technology, permitting me to influence your body's matter at will. After a moment, your suit should return to the color of your respective squad."