This Royal Navy has expanded and welcomes the following courageous souls: Justin Victor and Erdem.
As your Fleet Admiral, I, Crimson_Reapr, welcome you, honor your commitment, and thank you for your service. May our power reach beyond the edges of charted space, and may ruin fall upon all who stand against humanity's strength.
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POV: Mark Shephard
I felt the adrenaline pulsing through me. It was... exhilarating? As if the threat of death brought life to me. Now that's some edgy shit to even begin to think of.
The room behind me was engulfed in white flames, and I could feel the heat behind me. But, for some reason, I felt like I could just walk right through it.
"Mark Shephard," I heard a robotic monotone voice call out from outside. "I believe you are the one left in there. You have made some people in high places very, very angry."
I stayed quiet, not wanting to reveal I was the one left in there.
"It's fine if you don't want to talk," the robotic voice said again. "You're a better man than I was, not taking death lying down, clawing at whatever you can just to stay alive."
I still didn't say anything, shifting my position and bending the legs of the metal table so that it could act as angled armor. Movies in my previous life had people just turn over a table and act like that would stop a bullet. Yeah, it would stop it, alright, while leaving whoever was behind it full of holes. I wasn't about to trust that.
"You know we can very easily kill you," the voice said again. "You do know that, right?"
"Oh yeah, then why haven't you walked in here and killed me already?" I asked. "Instead, you're waiting outside the door like a pussy. Imagine that, being a simulacrum with no real threat of death and still being bitch-made."
"Your words wound me," the voice said. "It is true that there is no real threat of death for me. I die, and my consciousness just gets uploaded into another chip and another chassis. I just don't want to deal with the bitching of the higher-ups, though I've already lost two men thanks to you and some ship."
"You know there's no way you make it off this station without a scratch," I said. "You'll be destroyed here. There's no way out of this station for you."
There was silence for a few seconds before the voice spoke again. "You're right. But I have to ensure I kill my targets before I am destroyed."
I then felt that same premonition from earlier and dove out of cover.
3rd Person POV
Lee had been aiming his railgun through the wall, using his thermal optics to try and find Mark, but the incendiary grenade wouldn't let him see where the man was. So he had to stall the man with conversation until the thermite stopped burning or became cold enough for him to see Mark's outline.
"There you are," Lee said to himself as he finally found Mark's white thermal signature.
He pulled the trigger of his railgun, but as he did so, Mark dove out of cover into the hole in the wall.
"Fuck," Lee said. "He's running, let's go."
Mark slammed headfirst onto the ground in the stairwell. The fall was not enough to even daze him when it would have easily knocked any normal human out. The more he was being pushed into these fight or flight situations, the more Mark was discovering that his body, just like Anahrin had claimed, was much more durable.
It made sense, since Anahrin had made fun of squishy humanity had become, and how easy it was for humans to die. He also claimed that Mark was, physically, more Strathari than human. Judging by how heavy Anahrin was when Mark had to drag his unconscious body to the dais, even with his enhanced physique, then that meant that he should be much more durable. Theoretically.
Mark wasn't trying to put that to the test, but these sorts of situations kept finding him and pushing him further and further. Not only that, but also the way he would snap into another mental state when faced with these situations, as if he enjoyed it, as if it was a game to him, as if the threat of death was what he searched for.
Mark quickly got up off the ground and jumped down the stairs. His feet dented the metal beneath them, and he jumped the next flight, doing the same. He proceeded to this until he reached the bottom, where the people who had made it into the deliberation room were huddled together.
"The fuck are you all waiting for?" Mark asked. "Why haven't you gone into the ventilation system and made your way out?"
"Does it look like we are superhumans like you?" Kenjiro asked. "How are we supposed to burst through something that's bolted on?"
"We don't even know where we are going," one of the surviving reporters said.
"Fair points, let me get that open," Mark pushed through them and yanked off the 5-foot-tall ventilation cover. Behind it was a fan spinning at match Jesus. "Right."
Mark ripped apart a metal rod from one of the shelves and, without much thought, shoved it into the fan.
*THUNK*
*CRAAAAANKKKK*
The sound of metal hitting metal, followed by metal grinding against metal, reverberated throughout the room as the fan came to an immediate stop. Mark them gripped the fan and pulled it off, leaving the servo to continue spinning. But not for long, as Mark bent the pipe that held it in place up.
"The more things I'm seeing you do, son," Admiral Krane spoke. "The more I'm convinced that you're not even human."
"Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures," Mark quipped. "Start heading in."
People started making their way into the ventilation system, and Mark then tapped on his pendant to at least try to hide part of the abilities it held since he needed it to be able to find his way out of there. The pendant glowed red, and his armor covered him from head to toe.
"A little pompous on the red fur and half cape, no?" Magistrate Katerina Sol said.
"Nanotech is not something privy to regular civilians," this time it was the female reporter from earlier who spoke.
"Miss..." Mark trailed off.
"Natalie Parker," the reporter responded.
"Miss Parker," Mark nodded and sucked his teeth. "If you would do me the favor of shutting the fuck up! Does anything about me scream 'regular fucking civilian!?' Redacted files, superhuman strength, a blurry past, and you think Nanotech is the biggest of your fucking worries. I should have left your ass upstairs if I knew you were going to continue being this annoying."
That shut everyone up.
"That's no way to-" she started, but this time it was Admiral Krane who interrupted her.
"Bitch did you forget killer robots trying to take us all out?" Admiral Krane shouted.
And as if on cue, a loud *Thunk* came from the top of the stairs.
"Mark?" Marcos' voice rang out in Mark's helmet.
"Marcos, shit, you do not know how good it is to hear your voice," Mark said. "I need you to find me a way out of this place."
"Where are you?" Marcos asked.
"Uh, a service room at the bottom of the courthouse," Mark said while making his way into the ventilation system. "There's a ventilation system here. I have people with me, some reporters, the lawyer, Kenji, and the two judges. I need you to direct us out of here."
Once inside the vents, Mark took point, his armored bulk surprisingly agile as he shimmied through the rectangular tunnel.
"Marcos," Mark whispered.
"I am currently interfacing with the station's schematics, Mark," Marcos's voice came through. "The Judicial District is in lockdown. Blast doors are sealing off sectors 7 through 9. However, the maintenance conduits bypass the primary security checkpoints. I am routing you toward the lower logistics docks. It is a waste disposal sector, currently automated and devoid of biological personnel. It is one of the few docks large enough to accommodate the Shepherd."
"Perfect," Mark grunted, pausing at a junction where the shaft split into a Y. He looked back. The faces illuminated by the red glow of his suit's accents were pale, slick with sweat. Magistrate Sol looked ready to vomit, and Natalie Parker was trembling, though she held her recorder like a weapon. "Keep moving. Don't stop unless I tell you to."
"They're coming," Kenjiro whispered, his eyes wide. "I can hear them. The clanking. It's... getting heavy."
He was right. Reverberating through the metal walls of the ventilation system came the distinct, rhythmic thud of heavy machinery. It wasn't the chaotic scuttle of pests; it was the methodical, hydraulic-assisted pursuit of things that did not know fatigue.
"Marcos, how close are they?" Mark asked.
"Two pursuers entered the ventilation system three hundred meters back," Marcos stated. "They are moving at approximately three times your group's pace and will intercept you in less than two minutes."
Mark cursed under his breath. He looked at the group, then at the split in the tunnels. He couldn't fight two simulacrums in a confined space while protecting a dozen non-combatants. The math didn't work. The only variable he could change was the target. He turned to the group, his faceplate retracting to show them his eyes.
"Listen to me very carefully," Mark said, pointing down the left tunnel. "You are going to take a left here. Then you're going to take a right at the next junction. After that, two more lefts. You will come to a vent cover that has no fan behind it. It leads directly to the waste disposal loading bay."
"What?" Admiral Krane frowned. "That's a lot of turns. Where are you going?"
"I'm going right," Mark said, jerking his thumb toward the darker, tighter tunnel branching off to the right.
"Mark, no," Kenjiro stepped forward, grabbing Mark's armored shoulder. "I know you have this weird super strength and all, but they'll rip you apart."
"I'm not taking them on," Mark lied, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just going to be louder than you. They will try to eliminate high-value threats first, and no offense, amongst all of us, I'm the only threat to them. I've already killed one, and I also punched through a metal wall. To them, I'm the boss fight. You guys are just XP."
"This isn't a game!" Natalie hissed.
"It is to them," Mark replied, his faceplate sliding back into place with a hiss of pressurization. "Marcos, guide them. If anyone dies, I'm scraping you out of the ship's mainframe."
"Yeah, right. You would've done that months ago if you could. Not to mention, you need me. Good hunting," Marcos replied.
"Go!" Mark shoved Kenjiro toward the left tunnel. "Move your asses!"
As the group scrambled into the left tunnel, the sounds of their crawling fading, Mark turned to the right.
Three hundred meters back, in the intersection of the main air intake, Lee and Tomas paused. Their optical sensors cycled through spectrums, thermal, night vision, and motion tracking.
"They split," Lee stated. He pointed down the left tunnel. "Multiple thermal signatures with erratic heart rates and high cortisol levels. The engineer has to be with them."
He turned his head to the right tunnel. "A single signature, moving fast with no heat signature from fear. That's gotta be Shephard."
"The big guy," Tomas rumbled. "I want him. He took out the pendejo Carl."
"No," Lee said. "I'll take him. You go for the engineer. Leave no witnesses."
"Boring," Tomas grumbled. "Fine. I'll turn them into paste and then come help you scrape him off your boot."
The two machines separated. Tomas barreled down the left tunnel, his bulky frame scraping sparks against the walls, while Lee moved with a terrifying, silent grace down the right, his railgun charging with a high-pitched whine.
Kenjiro's lungs were burning. The air in the vents was getting hotter, thicker. Behind them, the sound of scraping metal was getting louder.
"Left!" Admiral Krane barked from the front. "Mark said take a left!"
They scrambled around the corner, knees bruised, palms scraped raw. One of teh surviving female reporters was sobbing quietly, but she kept moving, pushed along by Lysander.
"Marcos, are we close?" Kenjiro gasped into the air, hoping the AI could hear him through Mark's earlier connection.
"One hundred meters," the AI's voice echoed from Krane's G-comms. "Hurry. One of them is closing the distance. He is currently forty meters behind you."
"Forty meters?" Lysander yelped. "That thing is huge. How is it moving so fast?"
"It doesn't matter," Krane growled. "Move!"
They took the final left. Ahead, a grate blocked the path, but unlike the others, there was no spinning turbine behind it.
"There!" Kenjiro shouted.
He threw himself at the grate, but it was bolted shut.
"Out of the way!" Krane shouted. The older man, surprisingly strong, joined Kenjiro. Together, they kicked at the grate. The metal groaned.
From behind them, a voice boomed, distorted by the echo of the tunnel. "You can run, but you can't hide."
Tomas was there. They could see the glow of his red optic sensor reflecting off the metal walls around the bend.
"Kick it!" Kenjiro screamed.
They slammed their feet into the grate one last time. The bolts sheared, and the grate clattered down into the darkness below. It was a six-foot drop onto a reinforced loading platform.
"Jump!" Krane ordered.
One by one, they piled out of the vent, landing in a heap on the platform. The space was colossal, a waste disposal dock designed to fit interstellar freighters. The ceiling was lost in shadows hundreds of meters above.
"Where do we go?" Natalie cried, looking around the empty, dimly lit platform. "There's nothing here!"
"Keep moving toward the edge of the platform!" Marcos instructed.
As they scrambled toward the edge, the vent they had just exited exploded outward. Metal shrapnel rained down as Tomas squeezed his frame through the opening, tearing the steel wall apart. He dropped onto the platform with a thud that shook the structure, denting the floor plating. He stood fully upright, nearly eight feet of ceramite armor and weaponry.
"End of the line, meatbags," Tomas said, leveling his arm-mounted machine gun at the group. He scanned them, his optic locking onto Kenjiro. "Engineer, your letter of resignation is hereby negated."
Kenjiro froze. There was nowhere to run. He stared down the barrel of the gun, watching the rifling spin.
But then, Tomas paused, his head swiveling slightly. Arriving at the dock by the platform was the Shepherd.
"Get in," Marcos said calmly over the external speakers as a massive cargo ramp hissed open, slamming onto the platform behind the group.
Tomas analyzed the threat instantly. "Heavy Frigate class. Unknown configuration. Threat level: Critical." He hesitated, his logic processors warring with his combat protocols. He turned his aim back to Kenjiro. "Is that the ship that Jalon mentioned?"
On the underside of the Frigate's hull, a panel slid back. It revealed an autocannon that was usually reserved for shooting down fighters that got too close or missiles.
"Oh, mierda-" Tomas started.
*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT*
The sound was a physical blow, a tear in the fabric of reality. The turret spat a stream of 57mm depleted uranium slugs at a rate of four thousand rounds per minute.
Tomas' frame was evaporated as the rounds shredded his ceramite armor, detonated inside his chassis, and turned the terrifying war machine into a mist of shrapnel, sparks, and hydraulic fluid. In less than a second, the simulacrum was gone.
The group stood in stunned silence, their ears ringing, staring at the smoking crater where the monster had been.
"Please board immediately," Marcos said, the ramp fully extended. "We are leaving."
Deep in the bowels of the station, several sectors away, Mark kicked a grate open and rolled out into a dark, expansive room. It was an old reactor coolant chamber. Condensation dripped from the high ceiling, creating puddles of oily water on the floor. Shadows stretched long and deep, hiding amidst the rusting machinery.
Mark stood up, dusting off his armor. "Marcos, how are things going?"
"The group is secure aboard The Shepherd," Marcos replied. "The simulacrum was turned to dust."
"Good," Mark exhaled, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen slightly. "At least I don't have to worry about them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date."
He didn't have to wait long. Lee dropped down, landing in a crouch, his impact denting the floor. He stood slowly, his single vertical optic glowing like a baleful eye in the darkness. He held the railgun in one hand as if it were a pistol.
Mark didn't wait and immediately opened fire, hitting Lee's arm that was holding the railgun, causing Lee to drop it. He then followed up with three more shots, but Lee was moving too much for the shots to have any effect.
"Fuck," Mark cursed as he put his rifle back in his inventory.
"What happened? Out of ammo already?" Lee asked.
"What do you think?" Mark asked sarcastically.
"I have no weapon, and neither do you," Lee said. "I guess it's time for a good ol' fist-to-cuffs."
"I guess so," Mark said.
Lee blurred. One second, he was twenty feet away, and the next, he was inside Mark's guard. Mark's enhanced reflexes flared, and he brought his arms up to block, but it was like trying to block a freight train.
The punch connected with Mark's forearms, and the force lifted him off his feet. He flew backward, smashing through a rusted control console and slamming into a concrete pillar. Pain exploded in his arms. The nanotech armor held, but the kinetic energy transferred through it.
Mark gasped, tasting copper.
Before he could slide down the pillar, Lee was there again. A metal knee drove into Mark's midsection. The wind left Mark's lungs in a violent wheeze as he choked, swinging a desperate hook that connected with Lee's head, denting the metal plating, but Lee didn't even flinch.
Lee grabbed Mark by the throat with one hand and slammed him into the ground, denting the metal floor.
He raised a fist and brought it down, but Mark rolled, and the metal where his head had been was now decorated with a dent the shape of a fist. Mark scrambled up and clawed at some Lee, aiming for the joints in the chassis.
Mark managed to sever some hydraulic lines, spraying oil. Lee then backhanded Mark, the blow catching Mark on the side of the helmet. The HUD flickered and died. The helmet cracked. Mark spun in the air, crashing into a pile of scrap metal. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like jelly. He coughed, and a spray of blood coated the inside of his cracked visor. He retracted the helmet into the pendant, which was sent to the other damaged parts of the armor. His face was bloodied, his nose broken, blood streaming into his mouth.
Lee slowly walked toward him.
"I'll give it to you, Shephard," Lee said, stopping five feet away. "You are putting up quite the fight for someone made of flesh and bones. Though I'd say you probably have a little more than that in you, right?"
Mark spat a glob of blood onto the floor. He tried to focus. His vision was swimming. A sharp pain in his side told him he had broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung.
"But what's the point in fighting back?" Lee asked, stopping five feet away. "At the end of the day, you are still going to die. I yearn to be free from SIGS, but it's clear that's never going to happen. When you spend so long being a machine, you no longer fear death. Because why would I? I die now, I'll be back up later. Being a simulacrum is a double-edged sword. I can never die, but at the same time, I'm not plagued by human weakness. Your biology is failing. Your organs are bruising. You are bleeding. You are dying. So just lay down and take it like a man."
Lee lunged. Mark tried to sidestep, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. Lee's hand stiffened into a spear-hand and drove into Mark's stomach. Mark's armor gave way, and he gasped, his eyes bulging as he felt the cold metal penetrate his abdomen. Lee twisted his hand and pulled it out, slick with Mark's blood. Mark fell to his knees, clutching the wound.
"Don't be sad," Lee said, raising his foot to stomp on Mark's head. "True death is something I wish I had, and here I am giving it to you for free."
And then, something changed. It was as if something snapped deep in the center of Mark's being, where the human soul met the modifications of its alien ancestors that Anahrin had woven into his DNA, a limiter broke. The pain didn't vanish, but it became irrelevant. It became... fuel.
Mark's world slowed down, and he could see the dust motes dancing in the air. He could see the micro-adjustments in Lee's servos as the foot began to descend. He could hear the hum of the simulacrum's power core, a rhythmic thrumming that sounded like a heartbeat.
*Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*
Mark's pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black. The blood rushing in his ears sounded like a roaring ocean. The Strathari genetics, dormant and suppressed by his human mind, surged forward, demanding survival. Demanding dominance. Demanding freedom. Demanding violence.
Lee's foot came down, but Mark didn't dodge. Instead, he caught it. With one hand. The impact should have shattered his arm. Instead, the floor beneath Mark's was dented into a crater, absorbing the force. Mark's grip tightened on the simulacrum's ankle, causing Lee to pause. "Impossible."
Mark looked up, his face was a mask of gore, but a feral smile adorned his face. "I'm. Going. To. Fuck. You. Up."
Mark stood up, still holding Lee's foot. With a roar that sounded more beast than man, he twisted. Metal screamed, and the alloy of Lee's ankle warped and sheared. Lee lost his balance, crashing to the floor, but Mark didn't let go. He stomped on Lee's other knee, pinning the machine to the ground. He grabbed the ankle he was holding with both hands and pulled.
Sparks showered the room as cables snapped like rubber bands. With a sickening screech of tearing metal, Mark ripped the leg clean off the chassis, tossing the three-hundred-pound limb aside like a twig.
"Error," Lee's voice modulated, skipping. "Structural integrity critical."
Lee tried to push himself up, aiming a punch at Mark's face, but Mark caught the fist. The collision sent a shockwave through the room that disturbed the water puddles twenty feet away. Mark squeezed, and Lee's hand crumpled in his grip, fingers bending backward, servos whining in protest before burning out.
"You are nothing but a fucking slave," Mark whispered, his voice vibrating with a dark, guttural power. "You are a fucking machine. A replaceable piece of fucking shit. I'm not."
He stepped onto Lee's chest, the weight far greater than a human should possess. He reached down and grabbed Lee's left arm at the shoulder joint. He planted his foot on Lee's neck.
"Let's see what's inside," Mark growled. He heaved, the muscles in his back tearing through his undersuit. His skin rippled with energy.
*CRUNCH.*
The shoulder socket gave way, and Mark ripped the arm free, wires trailing like guts, and slammed the severed limb into Lee's vertical slit, shattering the optic lens. Lee went limp, his remaining systems failing.
Mark stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his chin onto the shattered metal form beneath him.
"You were human once," Mark said. "Then you should know that you don't fuck with the indomitable human spirit."
"System failure," Lee's voice was barely a whisper now, the robotic modulation failing, sounding almost... human. "Main power disconnected. Auxiliary power at 5 percent."
Mark dropped to his knees, straddling the machine. He raised a fist to finish it.
"Wait," Lee said.
Mark paused, his fist hovering inches from the ruined faceplate.
"I... did not want this," Lee said. The voice was soft, tired. "I remember... a happy life. But the code... it burns and forces me to act. I didn't even know what it was I signed. I was fooled by a man I called my best friend, and I signed my soul away because I just wanted the pain to go away."
Mark stared at him, the feral light in his eyes dimming slightly, replaced by a cold understanding.
"I have no choice," Lee continued. "Do you know how many lives I've taken? 239,597. And none of them were of my free will. I am a puppet, my strings are made of data and electricity. You know of simulacrums. So you know that it does not matter if you kill me, Mark Shephard. They have my backup. I will simply be downloaded into a new chassis, and I will be back to hunt you again."
Lee's shattered optic focused on Mark. "I will not stop, unless you destroy the source. You are right, Mark, I am a fucking slave. And I'm so tired of being used to fight for eternity."
Mark looked at the broken machine. A human soul, trapped in a cage of code, forced to murder, dying over and over again, only to be resurrected to do it all again.
Mark let out a short, harsh laugh. He coughed, spitting a mixture of saliva and blood directly onto the single vertical slit of Lee's ruined optic.
"I look forward to that," Mark whispered, his voice raspy. "Because next time, I won't just break the toy. I'll find the fucker holding the controller, and I'll shove it 3 feet down his throat."
"Heh," Lee's voice glitching. "That... sounds..."
Mark didn't let him finish. He plunged his hand directly into the center of Lee's chest. He felt the heat of the reactor core and wrapped his fingers around the pulsing cylinder.
"...fun," Lee finished.
Mark ripped his hand back.
With a blinding flash and the sound of a dying turbine, the power core came free. The lights in Lee's optic faded instantly. The machine slumped, becoming just a pile of scrap metal in a dark, wet room.
Mark dropped the core. It rolled away, glowing dimly before dying out.
Silence returned to the room, save for the sound of dripping water and Mark's ragged breathing. He sat there for a moment on top of the corpse of the machine, the adrenaline fading, the pain rushing back in like a tidal wave.
"I guess... I'm not... so invincible," Mark let out a raspy chuckle. "But I... sure am... harder to kill."
Then something happened that he was not expecting. His armor glowed red, and the core he had dropped levitated before moving towards his chest. His armor started to repair itself, and pressure was applied to his wound.
"Well... that's new..." he said.
He slowly stood up, swaying slightly, and looked at the darkness around him. His eyes eventually made their way toward the exit, where the faint hum of the station's life continued, oblivious to the violence that had just occurred in the Judicial ring.
"Marcos," Mark rasped. "I need a pickup."
There was a pause, and then the familiar voice returned. "I lost you for a second, but I have your location, Mark. However, the Shepherd is too large to navigate the lower utility tunnels near the coolant chamber. I'll control one of the drones to reach you."
Mark looked back at the dismantled simulacrum.
"Just get me the fuck out of here," Mark said. "I'm done playing games."
---
Book 2 has wrapped up at Chapter 50, which is a short 13,400 words, and Book 3 has hit the ground running with new chapters! That means that you can read up to 27 Advanced Chapters on my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/cw/Crimson_Reapr
But listen closely now. I'm currently editing Chapter 6, so that number will naturally increase to 28 in a few hours.
Crimson_Reapr is the name, and writing Sci-fi is the way.