Purgatory, 22: The One Who Sow the Wind
08 Feb 2024Meowers
"You can spend your entire life thinking about your purpose, your destiny. A role you should play. But a single moment, if important enough, is able to make you change your decisions. You simply know what to do, and you do it."
So... I'm in the power plant building. Lower level. Explosives, main corridor... Damn that mutant chicken led us into his trap, hope the last one... I was lucky, I was ahead and jumped forward, but the other three folks... Not so. The access corridor is rubble now. And I have another problem of my own... In a form of a fucking piece of a fucking metal rebar through my right calf. Okaaaay, suit shot me with painkillers and stimulants, I'm not going to bleed out or faint here...
Gotta pull that shit out of my leg... Mmmrgh... FFfffuck! Dammit.. Go you... Fuck! Mmmrgh... Damn you bastard... That... That hurts, dammit... Okay, breathe in, breathe out... Pffff... The pressure should normalise soon... Okay, I'm no runner now... The bone seems okay though, I can... I can stand. Okay. I can walk...Ish. Shit, that hurts.
That... Man. He's no human. Glowing green eyes... I've been, like, moving my aim left to right flushing the mercs from behind the big computer console, by making their cover see-through, when I saw that guy standing up. Managed to hit his right arm and rip it off, by surprise maybe, or there was no place to dodge, with so many of us firing... And he kept dodging everything else like he grew an eye on his arse. Damn fast too... And, I saw his wound closing and that stump... Growing, as we ran. Thankfully, it didn't look like he's about to grow another shotgun... Tried to escape on a quad-bike but I said no. Damn thing chewed up my last rifle ammo though... Half of a pistol mag, that's all I have left now. And a grenade.
This damned power plant... It's not just a power plant. It's his lair. The more I go, the more of those... Vines, tumours, tentacles cover the walls, greenish, crooked, dry on the outside yet reeking acid. They look like a Thargoid ship. Swirled, tangled, glowing faintly so that there's never a shadow on them, even humming maybe. They're static but I swear once I get close they move, they try to grab me, they know I'm here... They know who I am. They know I'm not a friend. A single door, on the right side of that corridor, in the end... The walls, and the doorway itself, are covered so thick I can't see much of the original metal, and the vines crawl from the generator room, consuming, devouring the building from the inside, slowly creeping into the corridor, in their glacial yet relentless crusade.
There may be more of his traps behind the doorway... Luckily, there's a way to check this.
* * *
"A grenade? How pathetic. Stop being a coward and come here. I mean no harm. And you're done already."
Did you just call me a coward? Hiding in your bedroom like a shitty kid?
"I never hide. Remember it. For the rest of your life. Which is short. I'm waiting for you. Enter the generator hall and pull your eyes up. I'm on the generator access balcony."
Okay, okay, I got it, you're a brave one, aren't you?.. Phah. You're boring. I expected a trap. Or a gun pointed at the door.
"I don't need any of it, Ms. Muir. My powers alone are enough. Especially in this place."
Ow, you know my name. How amusing. Are you a fan? Do you have a photo over your bed? You should've known I'm not into your tentacles thing.
"I know you could sting, but you shouldn't. You're capable of, but not in a position to. And, you weren't so careful in your daily life, with your face flashing on photos here and there, convenience store cameras, public network profiles, videogames, even those Aegis half-wits had mentioned you once. I didn't search for you in particular yet I'm glad it's you. At the place of your final battle."
Oh wow, you're so menacing. So tell me, what are you going to do now? Look, here. That's a pistol barrel.... Ffffuck, how do you move so fast, get back here, you...
"See? I can see where you aim. I can notice your finger moving before pulling the trigger. I feel the energy building up. I can evade your best shots. Even if you scratch me, I'll regenerate. If you throw a grenade, I will deflect it back at you and you don't want to test it. Your leg leaks blood, you can't get me. And I won't let you. I know you're stronger, but also you're slower. I know I can't hurt you, you're armoured like a tank. Yet I don't need to. I'll just wait."
I'm only here to turn that power plant off. Once I do it, your entire little hidden kingdom will stop being hidden. And soon, being, at all.
"And what if you can't? What if it isn't a simple power plant? What if it's controlled by me neurally when I'm here? Look at the console next to you... See? The levels are going up. And now... Slowly down to normal... Look at my hands. I'm not touching anything."
Oh, okay. Don't think I'm impressed. So, what, a stalemate?
"No. You've lost. Your time is running out and there's nothing you can do. Your FTL communications are suppressed now. Soon, your murdersquad will be dead. Every one of them. Then, my soldiers will clear the entrance and get you. And... You will make a fine subject. Healthy. Resilient. Fertile, I hope. Still... Not old, at least. In the meantime, I've got that radio... Listen. That's how the despair sounds. Despair, and retribution."
...ng Azimuth is shredding us, where are the...More of them in the tunnels, get that ammo box...Whitley's dead, comms are broken...Get to the tower!..n't dammit, they pinned us here...Fire! Fire!..ammo, dammit...Fffuck can't feel my leg, medic!..Stairs! They're on the stairs, fire damn you...Get his rifle he doesn't need it anym...
So, what do you want to tell me, exactly?
"No. What do you want to tell me? You took those soldiers, loyal, brave souls, and led them to their death. And what for? They swore to defend mankind, to their last seconds, but you've used them to throw us, humans, years back in the war we're fighting. Condemning millions, if not billions, to run or fight longer. More human deaths. Military and civilian. You may call me a traitor, a war criminal, but look in the mirror."
And I hear such bullshit from a person who runs human experimentation labs and concentration camps.
"The camps are full of traitors. Those like you. Those pulling mankind back. Self-proclaimed useless war heroes who cause death where it could've been avoided. Petty scientists wasting time and resources on worthless projects. Those who try to fight us openly, perfectly aware of our goals. Or those who cause public unrest and throw a shadow on us. And criminals. We raid prison ships and penal colonies, we capture traitors who dare to break the law and cause suffering in our uneasy times, when we all must stand together. Society is better off without them, if they can't understand, and there are thousands of ways to spend our resources more wisely, rather than giving those traitors free meals and beds. In a world where people still die for a little piece of bread."
And what those children did to you, actually?
"Captured along with their pesky criminal and traitor parents. Or picked up on the streets. We don't harm them if they behave. Are you sure their lives would've been better? Are you sure they want to live a life you offer them? Rescue centre, orphanage, poverty, streets, minimum wage job, or even more crime and, finally, prison? Did you ask them personally? I did, several times. Still remember one kid who hadn't eaten for almost a week until we found him."
Nobody would like to live in this fucking place. Even those primitives.
"Ah, now you're talking of RRDG clones. Thinking they're human if they look human is your mistake. See, we create them to minimise human deaths. We teach them the necessary survival basics and their purposes, so that they don't have anything else to worry about. Some of them are willing to become test subjects, that is the greatest honour for them and a possibility for us. They surround our rovers every time a team visits them, begging to take them to the labs. Some like to serve as organ donors, to sacrifice themselves for the sake of treating ill, wounded, elderly people. Sadly you haven't seen them, and their worship of pure, natural health. Some are ready to work their backs to death, clearing ruins, building and rebuilding cities, colonies, living in the simplest blocks, not asking for much. Some are eager to fight, to be unleashed upon the Thargoids, fierce warriors, who see death in battle as the highest point of existence. Losing a squad or two a week containing them isn't a problem. Guards, former prisoners, indoctrinated or not, are expendable, they're traitors rotten to the core. I never send my personal garrison from here to do that dirty job. Do you want real, feeling, natural people to be in place of the clones? To suffer the same way?"
I can't believe that Azimuth rejected such a sweetheart like you. Just, look at yourself, you're a friggin psychopath. Perfectly fit that lot.
"Don't pretend you know the entire history of this place. Azimuth had rejected us, left us to starve, without fuel and provisions, because we, initially, refused to bring families, relatives, friends, children of our workers here to experiment on. I, personally, stood up and told them that we refuse. I, personally, spoke for my company. I, personally, guided us through the dark times when we, ourselves, were stranded on this planet, like the crew of Natalia. My people were separated from their families and everyone thought Azimuth just killed us in cold blood. I took the responsibility and I developed a plan to bring traitors, criminals and cultists here. People who do no good to mankind. People who pull us back. Deep in my heart, I am a scientist, a researcher too, yet the actual science turned out to be too difficult for me. So, I plan, I manage, and I'd gladly provide my fellow bright minds with everything they need to do their work. Eventually, Azimuth realised they need us, we can obtain lots of valuable research data that Azimuth themselves can't, without crossing the line, without explaining all that to mass media. Do you still want to call me a psychopath?"
Yes, I do. Change my opinion.
"Then, look at yourself. You may not know it, but I have several cameras hidden in the villages to monitor the populations, and in most other facilities too, to look at how they are doing. Except for the camps maybe, they're too numerous. I like to browse recently uploaded videos and make sure that everything is alright, personally. Not a live feed, and the delays are up to three hours, the simplistic underground cable system can't give more, but I knew you're coming. Maybe, just didn't expect you to make it all the way over here, though. Look at all the death and destruction you have left in your wake. Razed village. One of the lab facilities drowned in blood. Hundreds of dead guards. And I saw your face on those cameras. Cold as ice. While you, and your troops, committed the murders. I saw you forcing your soldier to launch rockets at people, and you doing the same. You could've retreated, that slaughter wasn't necessary. Yes, they ran at you en masse, but you didn't even think that they're primitive and they may show something else, other than an intent to do harm, by doing so. They threw their first sticks and stones being already reduced to a half, and it was you, personally, the one who opened fire first. Your deranged marauders spent almost two hours mauling dead bodies and burning homes. You didn't stop them, I saw you cleaning your armour, wiping off the blood of innocents who just wanted you all, murderers, gone, away from their homes. You threw a thousand lives away, playing goddess, commanding tribals to attack one of my best squads with primitive spears and pikes. Should I remind that you, at that point, were still convinced that they're humans? And you, and your band of murderers, wore a disguise, too afraid to be targeted directly. Earlier, in the laboratory, you and your troops executed unarmed scientists. I saw the face of one of them. Young mind, showed great potential. You didn't even listen, you took the pistol and shot him in the forehead point-blank. In the hallway, in front of your troops and his colleagues. You personally beaten one of my best bright minds to death, brutally. Have I seen you questioning your actions, regretting them, or simply in any way affected by what you saw and did? No. Not a single time. Should I continue?"
...call...call the cavalry...can't take it anymore...fuck...hundreds of them are outside, lost the first floor, they can't stop coming...We're pinned...can't call the ships, signal's weak...shit, they're coming for us...Fucking tank! Take cover...More of them around th...Open fire! Just fucking...shoot! Keep that grenade...for yourself
Yes, please do. Consider me being a grateful listener. Do you want it or not, I know how to end you, I just need a little more time. A few minutes. There's no irresolvable problems... Only the paths we don't want to take if there are other options left.
"I don't know what you are trying to do with those parts, but I know about the time. You don't have much of it. But even if you, by a miracle, know how to deal me a damage I can't regenerate, you should know that, by doing so, you're going to kill millions of people, make millions of children orphans. Thousands and thousands of your comrades, AX pilots, will perish in needless fights against an enemy that has an almost infinite supply of ships. Fights that you could prevent by giving up. If there's a traitor in that building, it isn't me."
Nothing too complicated. See, this is a power distribution module you had laying around. It's always good to have a spare one. You're a smart boy, you should know what this thing does. And your generator is a simple non-fusion solid-fuel processor. Good choice, enough for a little place like this one, and the emissions are minimal. So, it uses an external storage, like the one I see in the corner over there. By disabling the failsafes from this console... Here. They're off now... I can hot-swap your module with my spicy one, which I'm now rigging to send a jolt into the fuel container. A single spark, single peak is enough. A year's worth of energy in a split second, and this shack is about to learn flying.
"A bright mind of an engineer behind a face of a grunt. And, are you going to die too, with me? Leaving even more people without protection in our war? Is that your responsibility baseline? Honestly, I've underestimated you. I have no idea why your command still hasn't you court-martialed or even executed for treason. And being a maniacal murderer, not a soldier. Not an officer."
You've left me no choice. You could've just died a few minutes ago. Nah, you ran like a friggin chicken, hiding in the building you thought I can't attack you in, and it was your little chicken plan, considering the quad-bike and the trapped hallway. Or, being so zippy fast with so many thugs on your side, you could've faced me in the open, in battle, instead. Ten to one is where I only begin having real fun.
"You'd have no chance against me and my entire main garrison that way. Say me, don't you have that special someone waiting for you? Don't you have a family? Children? A woman of your age should have several already. Demography is also a way to win wars. That's why you won't see a woman amongst my troops, your lot needs to be in a safe place. Or, maybe, good friends? You'll make people very sad by dying on that useless planet, in that stupid building."
I have. You're right. At least with something. Who exactly? None of your business. Yet it seems like my fate was sealed along with that trapped corridor. If I don't burn that place down, your mercs will get me and that's the end of me anyway.
"Not in any way. Stop resisting. I can make you one of my greatest soldiers. Even if you are a woman. An exception. An example. A leader of my garrison maybe. You'd come that far with only a handful of people, imagine thousands under your command, fighting traitors and Thargoids. This planet is a godforsaken backwoods but I offer my best assistants living conditions a few can afford, and we will leave this bog soon. No smelly barracks, tiny prefabs or sleeping on a ship. Good meals instead of field rations. Top medical services. Cosmetics, even. When was the last time you had a chance to see how attractive you are, wash that dust and grime away, and shine like you should? Just, stand down. Put that thing down. And I will change your life for the best. You will be a hero of this war when we win."
Make way, please. You know it, if I get you, I'll snap your neck in half and you can't regenerate it. So, if you want to live a few minutes longer, get off my way. We're both dead already, just standing in line waiting. Don't you want to enjoy your last breaths?
"Aren't you afraid of death? Are you going to end everything now? To stop fighting? Even if I just told you about the option you could take to help mankind even more, with something more thorough than pulling a trigger at the enemy that reproduces thousands times faster? Is that your way? Giving up, withdrawing from any responsibility? Dying now, let others figure out what to do next?"
I am afraid, maybe. Or maybe not. The thing I know for sure is that if I go, I'll go doing what I'm supposed to. Committed. Unrelenting. Sometimes the price is too high and I've seen many others paying it, to let thousands live longer and better. In the end, I'm simply a part of the machine, of the force. The force you can't stop.
"Can you, for a minute, think about yourself? I'm offering you a chance to live and live well, to make a better effort in winning this war, and you're throwing it away. If you stop now, I'll even command my forces to spare the lives of your squad. Those who won't cooperate, will live in cells better than your average apartment."
Make way, maggot. You're pathetic. I'm needed on the ground level, at the distribution console, now. Someone has to activate that thing and it isn't you.
"Shit. Shit. Stop it. Don't do it. The research? The information? I'm helping mankind too, can't you see? Think of treating the wounded, rebuilding the cities, not just retaking the planets!"
Shadowhand Alpha, do you copy? Shadowhand Alpha, please respond. Muir speaking. Can you hear me? Are you on the orbit now? Can you get my location?
We can't...Is that your suit comm?..No, it's too weak...We barely...Could get it filtered...Where are you?..Can't reach you...Picking up your troop chatter...Seems bad...Can't find you
Engaged an elite Azimuth garrison at the central compound. Outnumbered fifteen to one. Locked up in the HQ and a small group is outside. Heavy casualties. Our comm station is broken and the operator is dead. Can't get to the local tower, we are pinned down. Found the headman of this place and he's mine now. Can't hold on any longer. Plan your re-entry, ten to fifteen northern, morning zone, twenty to twenty five after the terminator. Be advised, four AA towers may be active.
"Stop, stop it! I'll tell them... They're clearing the debris now... Team! Stop! Stop! Hold position! Don't advance, don't shoot! Listen to me, Ms. Muir, you could..."
Roger...Going in...Still can't get your location... Damn it's so green... We can't see anything, there are trees, trees and trees! No emissions, no signals, only...your chatter in the background. The place is empty... Where are you?
Your landmark: big explosion on the ground, fifty to seventy kilometres from the drop-off point. Exact direction unknown. The HQ building is in the same compound, it has everything, detailed maps of the whole complex and an entire set of documents related to Azimuth activities here. Two medium-sized landing pads. I'm eliminating their leader now, can't keep him alive. Get the documents and the coordinates, pull us out of here and delete this place.
Roger that, keeping our eyes open for the blast
T + 120h 44min. Operation Shadowhand log, ground forces commander Ina Muir, last entry. Concluding the operation. Strike team should be here in a few minutes. And that bastard can't run away. That was a hell of a ride, and I send my sincere gratitude to everyone who supported me. Activating the rigged power distribution module now. Mion, my soul is yours forever. Ina Muir, signing off.