Anthem's Fall Read online

  “Certainly,” Councillor Harken said. “The project was called Operation Felix Rises. Pral Nerol proposed that he had the technological means to bestow Sejero anatomical and physiological traits upon entities created in a laboratory. According to what Nerol told us, the end result would be a highly advanced machinelike being fabricated with our very own genes. The important part, as it relates to us now, was that Nerol believed these Felixes could be capable of rivaling even the most powerful Sejero warrior.”

  A troubled tiding fell upon the War Hall. No technology or inanimate weapon could ever match the natural power of an Imperial First Class warrior. Every substance in existence fell inferior to Sejero flesh and muscle.

  “How could blunt materials possibly have the strength to match that of the Primus?” General Portid could be heard calling over the loud rabble of vociferous objections. “Sejero blood makes us impervious. No such element exists!”

  “Silence!” Emperor Faris shouted over the ruckus and nodded for Councillor Harken to continue.

  Councillor Harken shook his head. “All we can say for sure is that Pral Nerol’s goal was to transform inorganic materials into functional tissues using our own hereditary makeup. Meaning, in theory, these Felixes could have the same physical characteristics as a natural Primus and therefore may have inherent Sejero traits. That is my understanding of it.”

  “Impossible,” General Portid insisted, and many nodded in agreement.

  “Emperor Faris,” Councillor Harken said. “Perhaps it would simplify matters to play the video recording of Nerol’s laboratory. I believe the footage speaks for itself.”

  Emperor Faris’s shoulders sunk back into his throne and he raised a resigned hand. “Show it.”

  An image flickered to life upon a large screen, and some councillors turned in their seats to see it. Not a sound could be heard in the War Hall as the councillors watched with unblinking attention. They saw the older man they recognized as Pral Nerol. The lines and creases in his face had multiplied in recent years, but the withering of his appearance seemed to have done little to slow his ingenuity.

  Nerol’s cluttered laboratory was visible in the grainy background. A few researchers were with Nerol; men and women clad in white coats moved across the field of vision. Test tubes and gadgets of every description were scattered upon stainless steel tables. The far wall was lined with monitors rapidly cycling through data. Curiously, the palpable tension inundating the War Hall seemed to be equally matched by the blatant trepidation among the research team in the video. Eyes darted nervously, brusque orders were exchanged, and—aside from Pral Nerol—everyone in the laboratory looked on edge.

  The ring of councillors focused on a striking sight in the video. A large raised steel platform was built into the center of the laboratory. What they saw on the platform caused a number of the councillors to frown in affronted bewilderment. On top of the platform were four unconscious Primus, two men and two women. Each lay naked and prostrate on the cold steel. All four seemed to be in a profoundly deep sleep, their faces still and lifeless. Yet they did not appear altogether dead. Their unscarred skin held a visible warm touch of life, and they did not have the stiff macabre look of corpses.

  Pral Nerol was busy examining the numerous computer screens before he casually turned to the unconscious men and women.

  “We watch a video when we should be out fighting!” General Portid shouted suddenly, breaking the confused silence of the War Hall.

  “Be quiet, General Portid, or you will be escorted out of this Council,” Emperor Faris commanded.

  The audio in the video initiated, and the nondescript beeping and whirring sounds of the busy laboratory filled the War Hall. Pral Nerol’s voice crackled through the video feed.

  “Hello and good morning to all that may be watching. You are witness to the final stage of our research project, Operation Felix Rises. We come to you from the illustrious Imperial research complex in the heart of Municera. With me in the lab are my research assistants, Argos Trace, Cintha Loh, and Vera Gray. Imperial warrior Von Krass has also been gracious enough to join us, as a precautionary measure.”

  A thick-limbed, enormous man dressed in Imperial armor stepped into the screen. Von Krass’s broad shoulders took up a large portion of the background, and he stood many feet over the scientists’ heads.

  Expressions of confusion were exchanged among the watching councillors and generals. General Portid’s eyes narrowed, and even he now gave the video his full attention. Von Krass was an Imperial First Class, one of its most powerful members.

  The Epsilon empire had a clearly defined power hierarchy, even within the ranks of the Imperial Classes. In a race unmatched physically by any creation of nature or science, strength was highly glamorized. Somewhat paradoxically, the greatest creation of the Primus civilization was tested in brutally archaic and barbarous combat. Prowess was tested in highly publicized one-on-one physical duels. Deaths during these competitions were common. The enormous soldier standing among the academics in the laboratory was one of the greatest fighters of his era. Only several living individuals were more powerful, two of whom were the man now sitting on the throne and his son Prince Vengelis Epsilon.

  The same question now ran through everyone’s mind: why would Von Krass himself be at a research laboratory in Municera?

  Von Krass nodded to Nerol. He looked like a tremendous sequoia looking down upon a meager oak, his head nearly touching the ceiling; a true Imperial First Class soldier. Pral Nerol examined the readings on a scrolling computer monitor. “The Felixes are ready to be initiated at any moment now.”

  Pral Nerol wiped sweat from his brow and turned to direct the assistants. He motioned to Von Krass, and the giant warrior visibly readied himself. It was evident to the councillors that behind the guise of Nerol’s confidence there was a cause for concern in the laboratory. But what potential danger could possibly have required the likes of Von Krass? Uneasiness grew with each passing moment among Nerol’s assistants.

  “It is my intention to have these Felixes take the place of the hundreds of thousands of low-ranked warriors who die unnecessarily in combat and training each year,” Nerol said as he examined the many computer monitors. He sat down at a keyboard and began to type. “The initiation process for Felix One has begun. We will awaken the Felixes one at a time. Twenty seconds until Felix One attains consciousness.”

  A thick silence filled the laboratory and the War Hall.

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  “Sir, there’s a hormonal anomaly occurring,” an assistant murmured.

  “Ten seconds,” Nerol said as the screens flashed through vital signs.

  “Sir, the brain waves aren’t matching our projections.”

  “Five seconds.” Nerol remained expressionless.

  “Sir?”

  Pral Nerol looked up from the keyboard to their creation—the Felix—which lay naked on the lab table. “It should awaken any moment.”

  Everyone in the laboratory turned to the still body of Felix One. The assistants drew their gaze away from their charts to the peculiar male body.

  A long uncertain moment ticked past. Then, just as it seemed the researchers were going to have to retreat back to the drawing boards, a faint spasm traveled through the still body. The pale figure slowly sat up with its upper body, its back as straight as a board, its legs stretched and still against the cold steel. The movement seemed unnatural, as though the man’s body were not merely sitting up after a deep sleep, but after death itself.

  The Felix then sat completely motionless, its palms resting on its knees. Its eyes remained closed, chest moving in and out with slow shallow breaths.

  “Felix One, I am Pral Nerol. Your creator,” Nerol said, staring at the Felix’s closed eyelids.

  One of the assistants swiveled his chair and looked at the Felix in confusion. “The behavioral modifications we installed should have prohibited the first Felix action until it was ordered by us. Something is wro
ng—very wrong. Pral?”

  “I know. Stay calm,” Nerol said, staring inquisitively at Felix One. “Felix One, do you hear me?”

  After a pause, the Felix’s eyelids slowly fluttered open, revealing strangely piercing blue eyes. The retinas were emitting a hint of blue glow, providing the face with a strange and deranged visage. Felix One stared at Nerol expressionlessly for a moment before turning its luminous gaze to the rest of the laboratory. Its attention rested for a moment on the other three Felixes unconscious beside it. Although Felix One’s features remained impassive, an unmistakable alertness conveyed from it, as though it was trying to unravel the reality into which it had awoken.

  Pral Nerol turned and motioned to one of the assistants, and she tremulously approached the male body to determine initial vital signs. She gently pressed her fingers into the Felix’s right arm to take blood pressure readings. Slowly and deliberately, Felix One reached over and took hold of her forearm with its hand.

  “Sir? What is happening?” she said and then winced, a sudden panic rising in her voice. “It’s squeezing me, Pral. It’s squeezing me!”

  “Felix One, let go of her arm.”

  The male body, the empty vessel, sustained its grip on her arm as it stared blankly at the far wall. Its face looked inanimate, its eyes like a doll. Felix One turned and stared with its brilliantly cold blue gaze into the assistant’s rapidly welling eyes.

  Von Krass took a lumbering step forward from the corner.

  “It’s squeezing me!” the assistant suddenly screamed out as her eyes bulged at the tightening grip on her forearm. A cowed confusion claimed the room, and everyone seemed unsure of how to act. The Felix then turned its wrist slightly. A grotesque popping sound pierced the lab as though a hunk of cement had fractured, and Felix One pulled the assistant’s forearm clean away from her body at the elbow.

  Felix One held her arm and examined it indifferently as she spun on her feet with a screeching moan and collapsed to the floor in instantaneous shock. Nerol and his assistants lurched backward against the computer monitors in disbelief, sending contraptions clattering to the floor. Felix One slowly moved its legs over the side of the steel pedestal and stood with its bare feet. It looked down upon the assistant convulsing on the laboratory floor. The Felix brought its attention from her—gasping and convulsing in agony—back to her dismembered arm as if trying to understand her behavior. It raised a foot into the air and brought it to a rest on the side of her face, pinning her head against the floor. She let out a momentary shriek of terror as the Felix leaned forward and applied pressure.

  The circle of councillors looked away in mingled horror and disgust as the woman’s skull audibly collapsed like an eggshell.

  The giant Von Krass moved to confront the Felix.

  “Get behind me.” The Imperial First Class’s voice was deep and commanding. The remaining assistants followed his order without hesitation, gathering behind the enormous warrior. One of the men slipped on the dark blood now forming a grisly puddle across the floor. Von Krass easily reached out and caught the man’s arm, pulling the trembling assistant out of the way as though he were a child. On the other end of the room Nerol stood in a daze, leaning against a lab table and wheezing heavily.

  Von Krass and the Felix stood before each other. Felix One was standing between them and the door, and the assistants could only shrink back and watch.

  It was Von Krass that made the first move. He lunged across the laboratory and grabbed at Felix One with his gigantic hands. The Felix remained still, and as Von Krass charged toward him, the Felix lifted its hands and met grips with the giant. Von Krass’s momentum halted instantly, and the two were locked hand in hand, grappling like fighting bears. It looked bizarre; the small naked body of the Felix stood its ground with seeming ease as the Imperial First Class goliath bore down on him with gnashing teeth. Then, as fast as lightning, the Felix reversed its strength and pulled the giant’s enormous wrists toward its chest. Von Krass’s own power now met with no resistance and he stumbled forward from the momentum, doubled by the Felix’s sudden pull. At the same instant the Felix lunged forward and head butted Von Krass square in the nose. The mass of the decorated Imperial First Class soldier fell to the laboratory floor with a disturbing thud, dead.

  Pral Nerol burrowed his face in his hands and shook his head in an attempt to regain his composure. After a moment of panic he leapt to the side, mashing the security alarm by the door. Instantaneously, flashing lights flooded the laboratory and an alarm boomed. Felix One turned and stepped toward the huddling assistants as the visual and audio feeds cut and the video abruptly turned to static.

  The circle of councillors exploded into a storm of questions, and Emperor Faris was forced to shout for silence.

  “What the hell was that? How did that man do that to Von Krass? No one could defeat him in one hit,” General Portid roared. “It’s not possible!”

  “First and foremost it must be made clear to you all that the Felix One in that video was no man,” Councillor Harken called over the other voices. “Second, the video alone proves it is possible, General Portid. The implications of what you all have just seen are staggering. If that Felix could kill Von Krass with such ease, it is logical that it also could have the power to inflict the carnage we have witnessed in Municera and the Twin Cities.”

  “Good lord . . .” General Barlow muttered.

  “We don’t have the luxury of time to sit and discuss the plausibility of what we have seen. We believe these . . . ” Emperor Faris turned to Councillor Harken. “ . . . machines?”

  Councillor Harken thought it over, obviously unsure himself. “Felixes. For simplicity’s sake, yes, I suppose we can refer to them as machines.”

  “Very well,” Emperor Faris said. “These Felix machines are directly related to our assault. Although the video feed ended where you saw, the last security transmissions from the laboratory indicate the other three Felixes had all begun their activation sequences before we lost contact with Municera. It’s possible this . . . Felix One . . . initiated them himself, but equally likely that the activation sequences had already begun by the time they hit the alarms. Either way, it must be assumed the other three Felixes malfunctioned in the same manner as Felix One, and are every bit as powerful.”

  “Why has this attack been allowed to go on so long if we know what our enemy is?” General Portid asked.

  “Because,” Councillor Harken said, his voice growing heated, “it would be a terrible mistake to act rashly against an entity so powerful. In order to defeat them, we had hoped we could first understand them. If we mobilize the Imperial First Class and fly straight to the Twin Cities like an unorganized horde, it’s possible the entire Imperial Army could be overrun. Look what happened to Von Krass when he blindly engaged the individual Felix. They are powerful on a scale that we do not yet fully understand. We can’t risk underestimating them.”

  An ominous silence permeated the War Hall as a pale, cheerless dawn passed through the windows and cast the faces of the councillors in pallid gray light. If the Felixes did indeed harbor inborn strength rivaling that of the Royal families, Councillor Harken’s words were accurate.

  After a long moment, General Portid rose and turned to his second-in-command, who stood at attention behind his chair. “My regiment moves out immediately. Send word to our ranks. They should prepare for battle. This is open war.”

  “You will hold that command until this Council has decided upon a course of action!” Emperor Faris thundered.

  “My lord.” General Portid lowered his eyes and bowed. Although older in age, the Epsilon Emperor’s physical prowess still commanded subservience. He was a god among gods. “Of course, we will follow whatever path you deem appropriate. Forgive my outburst.”

  “Forgiven.” Emperor Faris turned to Councillor Harken. “What do we know about these Felixes? If indeed we know anything?”

  “We can say with certainty that they are as powerful as even the m
ost powerful Primus, as evidenced in the assault upon that poor assistant and Von Krass. The Felixes are as complex as a living system; they are no archaic machines. They are every bit as intricate as living beings.”

  The implications of Harken’s statement were frightening. An enemy that could manhandle Von Krass as though he were no threat at all, and there were four of them. The reality of their situation, the gravity, began to seep in.

  Councillor Harken sighed nervously. “We have to act now, and act appropriately.”

  “I agree.” Emperor Faris summoned one of the members of his Royal Guard to his side. “Have we received any update from the Twin Cities?”

  The huge man bowed deeply, his voice baritone. “None, sir. We’ve received no contact for the past few hours.”

  “What is this madness?” Emperor Faris muttered.

  “One thing remains unclear to me. I don’t understand the Felix aggression. What reason would the machines have to be so very violent? Why would their first action be to murder and destroy?” General Portid asked.

  Councillor Harken shook his head. “That’s what we are most confused about. We . . . we don’t know.”

  “If a chance to somehow reason with them arises, we will certainly take it. But in the meantime we must focus on our own defense. It’s time for action,” Emperor Faris said in a falsely confident tone. Fear was emerging on the faces around him, and he could not allow that to transform into panic—fear among the leadership would trickle down through the ranks.

  “I for one have been longing for a good fight for years now,” General Portid said with a dry smile.

  “Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Emperor Faris said, embracing his general’s courage with admiration. Portid was a true Sejero soldier. “We must mo—”

  A sudden earsplitting eruption emanated outside the palace in the sprawling city of Sejeroreich. The stone floor of the War Hall heaved violently as the palace lurched, and all of the councillors looked up with startled expressions. Sejeroreich was the capital city, the most well fortified place in Anthem. If the Epsilon Palace were to fall, what chance would the empire have at survival? What chance would the Primus have?