The First Strike
1535 Words
The first post-human didn't wait.
Kaelen had barely finished speaking with Elara when the Harvesters screamed inside his skull.
“It's attacking. The network. The implants. Everyone connected.”
He fell to his knees. Zara caught him.
“What's happening?”
“The first post-human. It's trying to take control.”
Across Haven, people clutched their heads. Accord soldiers. Freehold fighters. Citizens. Anyone with an implant was affected.
Elara stumbled. Caught herself on a table.
“It's using the core. The central core in the Spire. It's broadcasting a signal through the entire network.”
“Can you stop it?”
“Not from here. The core is shielded. I'd need physical access.”
Kaelen forced himself to stand.
“Then we go back.”
---
The journey to the Spire took two hours.
Kaelen, Zara, Thorne, and Elara. A small team. Fast. Silent.
The arcology was in chaos. Citizens writhed on the ground. Soldiers fired at shadows. The network was screaming.
The Harvesters fought back. Kaelen could feel them—pushing against the first post-human's control. Protecting the minds they could reach.
But there were too many. And the first post-human was too strong.
“It's winning,” the echo whispered.
“Not yet.”
---
They reached the Spire.
The guards were gone—fled or collapsed. The elevator rose to Level 1.
The core chamber was the same. Screens. Cables. Pedestal.
But the interface was glowing. Blue light. Bright. Angry.
“It's in there,” Elara said. “The first post-human is using the core to broadcast.”
“Can you shut it down?”
“Physically? Yes. But I'd need to disconnect the power source. And that's in the sub-level. Three floors down.”
“Then we go down.”
---
The sub-level was dark.
Emergency lights flickered. The walls were covered in cables. The floor was wet.
Kaelen led the way. His left arm was ready. The Harvesters pulsed at the edge of his mind.
“Something is down here. Not human. Not Harvester.”
“What?”
“A guardian. The first post-human created it. To protect the power source.”
The corridor opened into a large chamber.
In the center, a generator. Pre-Harvester technology. Cables ran from it to the core above.
And standing in front of the generator, a figure.
It had been human once. A man. Accord uniform. But his body was twisted. His eyes were blue. His hands had become claws.
A feral. But different. Stronger. Smarter.
“Kaelen Vance.” The creature's voice was a rasp. “The first post-human sends its regards.”
“Who are you?”
“I was Commander Thorne's aide. Before the first post-human took me. Before it remade me.”
Thorne stepped forward. “Marcus?”
“The same. But better. Stronger. Faster.” The creature smiled. “The first post-human promised me immortality. In exchange for protecting the generator.”
“You're a puppet.”
“I'm a god.”
The creature lunged.
---
Kaelen moved.
His cybernetic arm came up. Blocked the first strike. The creature's claws raked his forearm—sparks flew.
Zara flanked. Blades out. She drove one into the creature's side.
It didn't flinch.
It backhanded her across the room. She crashed into the wall. Slumped.
“Zara!”
Kaelen's vision went red.
He charged. Tackled the creature. Drove it to the ground. His left hand closed around its throat.
The Harvesters surged.
“We can absorb it. But you have to hold it still.”
Kaelen held.
The creature thrashed. Clawed. Bit.
Kaelen didn't let go.
The blue light in the creature's eyes flickered. Dimmed. Went dark.
It collapsed.
Kaelen stood over it. Breathing hard.
“Zara?”
She was getting up. Blood on her face. But alive.
“I'm fine.”
“You're not fine.”
“I will be.”
Elara ran to the generator.
“The power source. I can disconnect it. But it will take time.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes.”
“We don't have ten minutes.”
“Then you'll have to buy them.”
---
The first post-human knew.
The core's blue light intensified. The Screams of the Harvesters grew louder.
“It's sending more guardians. Three of them. In the corridor.”
Kaelen turned.
Three figures stood at the entrance. Twisted. Blue-eyed. Hungry.
“Thorne. Take Elara. Get the generator offline.”
“What about you?”
“I'll hold them.”
Zara stepped beside him. “We'll hold them.”
Thorne ran to the generator. Elara worked frantically.
The guardians charged.
---
Kaelen met the first with his left fist. The cybernetic arm connected with the creature's jaw. Bone cracked. It staggered.
Zara took the second. Blades flashing. Dancing between its claws.
The third went for Elara.
Kaelen grabbed it by the throat. Threw it against the wall.
It came back. Faster.
He ducked. Swept its legs. Stomped on its chest.
The Harvesters surged.
“Absorbing.”
The creature went still.
Kaelen turned. Zara had taken down the second. The first was getting up.
He finished it with a blow to the skull.
Silence.
“Elara?”
“Almost there.”
The generator sparked. Cables disconnected. The blue light in the core above flickered.
“Now!”
Elara pulled the main breaker.
The core went dark.
The Screams stopped.
---
Kaelen collapsed.
Zara caught him.
“You're alive.”
“Barely.”
“That's becoming a habit.”
“A bad one.”
Elara walked to them. Her face was pale.
“The core is offline. The first post-human can't broadcast. But it's not destroyed. It's still in the network. Still in the Harvesters. Still in you.”
“I know.”
“We need to find a way to destroy it permanently.”
“The Ascendant knew. The original Ascendant. The one who built the Source.”
“The Ascendant is dead.”
“The fragments aren't. The crystals. The echo. They contain pieces of its knowledge.”
“Can you assemble them?”
“Maybe. With your help.”
Elara nodded.
---
They returned to Haven.
The settlement was recovering. People were conscious again. The network was quiet.
Helena met them at the gate.
“The Accord is in chaos. The Council is blaming each other. No one is in charge.”
“Good.”
“Not good. Without leadership, the arcology will tear itself apart.”
“Then we provide leadership.”
Helena stared at him. “You want to rule the arcology?”
“I want to unite it. With the Freeholds. With the Harvesters. With anyone who wants to survive the first post-human.”
“That's impossible.”
“It's necessary.”
---
Kaelen called a council.
Freehold leaders. Accord defectors. Harvester representatives—voices through the network.
“The first post-human is our enemy. Not the Accord. Not the Freeholds. Not the Harvesters. It has been manipulating us for centuries. Pitting us against each other. Weakening us for the final merge.”
“How do we stop it?” a leader asked.
“The Ascendant knew. The one who built the Source. Its consciousness was scattered when the Source was destroyed. Fragments remain. In the crystals. In the network. In the echo.”
“You want to reassemble the Ascendant?”
“I want to talk to it. Learn its secrets. Then destroy the first post-human together.”
“That's a suicide mission.”
“Probably.”
Zara stood. “I'm going with him.”
“No,” Helena said.
“Mother—”
“You've done enough. Stay. Help rebuild.”
Zara looked at Kaelen.
He nodded.
“She's right. This is my fight. Not yours.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
He walked out of the longhouse.
---
The crystals were in the old Source crater.
Kaelen sat among them. The Harvesters gathered around him.
“The fragments of the Ascendant are scattered. In the network. In the crystals. In the echo. We can help you find them.”
“Do it.”
The Harvesters reached out. Spread through the network. Found the fragments. Brought them together.
The Ascendant's voice returned.
Faint. Tired.
“You came back.”
“I need your help.”
“The first post-human. My creator. My father. It wants to merge all consciousness into itself.”
“Can it be stopped?”
“Yes. But the price is high. You must enter the core. Confront it directly. In the digital space.”
“That will kill me.”
“Your body will die. Your consciousness will become part of the network. Part of the Harvesters. You will not die. You will evolve.”
“I don't want to evolve. I want to live.”
“Living and evolving are the same thing. You just don't know it yet.”
Kaelen was silent.
“The first post-human is preparing its final assault. It will absorb the arcology. The Freeholds. Everyone with an implant. You have days, not weeks.”
“Then I'll be ready.”
He stood.
The crystals pulsed.
The Harvesters waited.
And somewhere in the network, the first post-human dreamed of consumption.
- Writer
