The Collapse

Chapter 16: Respite

Alder slowly cracked his eyes open once his head quit swimming. He began to pat himself down in search for injuries, then stopped as he yelped in pain. His right shoulder felt like somebody had poured napalm and took a lit candle to it. He gingerly felt his shoulder and, though no wounds were apparent, the fiery pain flared in response to his fingers. He jerked his hand away and reached up to the Emergency Combat Medical Pouch that sat attached to the panel left of the viewport. Unzipping it with only one hand proved a challenge, though he achieved it after a few errors.

Digging through the assorted supplies, Alder finally found a Pain Relieving Syringe and fished it out with his thumb and forefinger. He gripped the cap with his teeth and pulled it off, then maneuvered his shirt around so he could inject the serum straight to his bloodstream. With careful fingers he felt around for a vein, eliciting more protests of pain from his frayed nerves. Once he happened upon one, Alder clenched his teeth and pushed the needle down. Stars danced before his eyes as the pain reach a zenith, and he released an involuntary grunt as the thick medicine flowed into his bloodstream.

Once the syringe was emptied of its precious contents, Alder pulled it out and replaced the cap before placing it in the waste bag next to the seat. The young pilot leaned back into the padded seat and, as the pain began to subside, opened his neural link with Nova. Are you okay?  Alder thought-said to the machine's AI.

The response was almost immediate. My primary combat functions are all in fighting shape. My right shoulder took a heavy blow, though. We'll have to repair it before we engage in any more serious confrontations. A pause, then Nova spoke again: That was a magnificent display of  prowess, Pilot. You should be proud of yourself.

This time Alder spoke aloud. "No, I shouldn't. What I did was reckless, and we both suffered for it."

Maybe so, but we defeated an Apophis. That is a feat not even my previous pilot could claim to have accomplished. You have an innate ability, Alder. Do not let one mistake override that.

"Roger that, Nova," Alder responded, not feeling like getting into another fight. He wiped sweat from his brow while his teeth clicked together in an irregular rhythm out of habit. He forced it down once he became aware of it, only for it to restart after he turned his attention to the muffled voices outside of the hull. He drew his .44 and aimed it to the top entry hatch as footsteps clattered on top of the Iapetus. 

Hold your fire, Pilot. It is the guardsmen.

Nova was proved correct when the hatch opened up to reveal a dirty, exhausted face. "Whoa, there, Pilot. We're on the same side." The man said, offering his hand down to help Alder out. Too drained to argue, Alder grasped the hand and hefted himself out on the cockpit. After regaining his footing and replacing the revolver in its holster, he slid down the hull and landed on his feet with a huff.

The thrum of an engine turned Alder's eyes skyward, and he watched as a massive gunship, covered in a crude camouflage paint, descended from the clouds. An odd depression parted the ship's belly, and twin turbos were attached to the wings astride the main integrated engine. Sitting atop the hull was a massive cannon, and on either side of the boxy nose sat two heavy machine guns. 

The pilot settled his metal steed into a smooth hover and placed the hull indentation over Nova. A metallic grinding sounded as a magnetic force lifted the war machine up, locking it into place like a puzzle piece. Time seemed to slow as Alder drew his magnum again and lined the sights on the cockpit. He knew he more than likely couldn't hit the pilot, but he was not going to give up his Iapetus without a fight. Suddenly, a hand appeared and rested itself on the barrel. "They're friendly," a familiar female voice said as the hand gently pushed the gun down. Without another word, the hand removed itself. Time resumed, and Alder could hear footsteps fading off. An anger he hadn't known he was harboring pushed itself to the surface and bubbled over.

Whipping around to face Ember, he shouted at her back, "Hey!" When he got no reply, he began to bellow louder. "When the hell are you gonna start explaining this crap?" He finally caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. "Hey!" He gestured around him, to the gunship and the soldiers. "The fuck is all this?! Either you're the leader of some sort'a goddamn army, or you have an, I dunno, a magic wand or some shit."

Ember grinned and shrugged his hand off, unclasping her flask while dialing a button on a CB radio. "Jag, this is Ember. Nova'll be coming in on an Albatross in a few. Get Gadget online to ready to fix any damage and wipe her neural link." She released the button, and a deep male voice came back. "Roger dat, E-girl. I'll get the ol' geezer up in no time flat." 

Alder saw red once he heard Ember say 'wipe her neural link'. In an instant, his handgun's barrel was pressed against Ember's temple, the hammer pulled back. "Enough! Start talkin' or I'LL TAKE YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!"

Ember's grin simply widened. There was none of the fear he had came to expect, simply a kind of courage, even arrogance. "You ever hear of the rumors about pre-Collapse government-sponsored experiments with cloning? How they were trying to make the perfect warrior, but when they finally finished it, the genotoxin bombs were dropped and most ended up as mutants?" 

The sudden change of subject piqued Alder's interest while simultaneously irritating him. "Yeah, but what does that have to do with --"

Ember cut him off, her smug smile falling. "Well, you're a product of that project. Project Epilogue. You're an Enigma clone, a super-soldier in the most literal sense. And we're trying to help you, to protect you, from the people who know what you are and who would use you as a weapon, or destroy you if they couldn't."