Beyond Singularity

Last Stand

Private Kale huddled against the wall, trying to ignore the cold as he checked his rifle for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. In the distance he could hear the thunder of the wall guns as they spat arcs of plasma in the seemingly endless hordes of the Reborn. In the large hall with him were thirty other men; all in there for the same purpose – protecting the Singularity Harnesser. The large contraption of metal that took up eight square metres of the middle of the room held a tiny black hole in its heart and drew power from it – power that kept the wall guns blazing. If the Reborn succeeded in shutting it down, the last surviving humans on New Earth would join the Reborn horde.

The Harnesser should’ve been within the walls of Port Zion and protected by the same wall guns that it powered but the invasion began before the walls were completed and that left the Harnesser a few kilometres out of range of the nearest of Zion’s massive wall guns.

Refugees from overrun estates and cities flooded into Port Zion after the invasion began and the commandeering of heavy lifting craft by the military to use against the armies of Reborn ensured the wall would never be completed. By the time the military realized their strikes were futile – it was already too late. The wall guns were added a New Earthian year or so after the invasion when a few Dreadlords started hurling their minions against the walls of Zion and even if they could find a heavily lifter to carry the Harnesser into the safety of Zion, they wouldn’t shut down the Harnesser and leave the city vulnerable to the attacks of the Reborn.

All that Kale learned from reading the historical archives in Zion’s database. The invasion began thirty New Earthian years before Kale’s birth. Of course, one New Earthian year is approximately 1205 days on old Earth and one New Earthian day is thirty hours long. Kale chuckled when he imagined what someone from old Earth would think if he told them he was five years old.

“Private Frost, I’m glad you found something to look cheerful about. Care to share the humour?” boomed a voice beside Kale. Kale jumped and turned to face sergeant Ackson, a large bearded man that Kale couldn’t believe was capable of moving noiselessly.

“N-n-nothing much Sarge. I was just thinking how weird our ages would look to the reinforcements from Old Earth when they come,” Kale stammered.

“Ah! True that son. Imagine their faces when they find out your sergeant is fifteen!” said Ackson before laughing. The other men in the hall joined in, laughs echoing against the walls. Most of the laughs sounded nervous though.

Sergeant Ackson patted Kale on the shoulder and strode silently towards the entrance of the hall and started conversing with the three men stationed there. Kale sighed as he remembered how Acksons smile strained slightly when he said “when they come”. Almost everyone believed that when the fleet from Old Earth finally arrived, there would be no one left to save.

The first strikes the Reborn made in the beginning of the invasion was against the New Earth fleet. No one knows how the Dreadlords did it but all of a sudden battleships were falling out of the sky. They hit sky ports and destroyed any vehicle capable of leaving the atmosphere quickly in the first months of the invasion. How they knew where to attack was a mystery – even top secret installations were overrun before they could launch. To the South in the city of Utopia a counsellor, Wilford Han, managed to find an old starship the Dreadlords missed. He was killed while heroically defending the launch site with his men but luckily his daughter along with a few survivors took to space with the last starship, heading for Old Earth with the hope of New Earth with them.

All that took place during the first years of the invasion and the reinforcements should’ve come many New Earthian years ago. Maybe they got lost? Maybe the Dreadlords snuck some Reborn inside. No! They’re just delayed. The Old Earth leaders probably had to spend a few months arguing! Kale tried not to lose hope. But the fact that people have died of old age while waiting for relief from their ancestral home way before Kale was born was quite disheartening.

He heard the wall guns pause in the distance for almost a minute before coming to life again. That was actually the second row of guns below the top row. They had to switch over constantly to allow the coolant to completely cool them and prevent them from overheating. At the same time, the guns around the Harnesser hall’s perimeter walls roared to life – announcing to the Harnessers defenders that an attack has begun.

The hall sat on a hill surrounded by a 10 metre high wall made of solid concrete. While the roughly built perimeter walls weren’t has high as Zion’s gigantic metal walls, the concrete walls were still good protection from the endless waves of the Reborn. Rolls of electrified razor wire ran on the sides of the wall outside. Upon each of the four walls were four light plasma cannons – smaller versions of the huge guns mounted on Zion’s walls. A tower stood at each corner of the yard, each had a machine gun nest that was held by 3-4 men. About forty men guarded the outside of the hall while the thirty on the inside were supposed to be the final line of defence.

These defences, however, would’ve been easily overcome by the Reborn if attacked on all sides, but Zion was built in between the Crocodile pass. The mountains surrounded the city on all sides except to the west and the Harnesser was to the east of Zion – safe inside the pass. For the Dreadlords to launch an attack on the Harnesser, they would have to get their hordes passed the wall guns of Zion. By the time they were out of the wall guns range, they would have had massive losses. This surviving Reborn were easily gunned down by the Harnesser’s defenders. Various outposts in the mountains kept Dreadlords from sneaking an army in beyond the range of Zions wall guns – the narrow trails and sharp drops made it possible for a few men to keep any enterprising Dreadlords out of Zion’s backyard.

The radio in the hall burst into life as the machine gunners and snipers in the towers reported their kills. The light plasma cannons targeted dense masses of Reborn, vaporising them as they charged, while the machine gunners and snipers picked off those that survived the plasma cannons fury. The slow but steady hiss of the light plasma guns discharging their fiery payload and the continuous crack of machinegun fire was all Kale could hear. Suddenly, the gunshots stopped. The attack was over as quickly as it began.

“We need a medic and a replacement up here on tower three. David’s been hit bad – Stygian Warrior with an assault rifle got him,” came an excited voice from the radio. While the mutated dead creatures that plagued New Earth were generally called the Reborn, they appeared to have different types.

The Dreadlords were so far the only form that appeared to be in command. With a pale grey skin, they seemed to have retained much of their intelligence and their bodies, and preferred to march with nightmarish banners carried by their equally nightmarish thralls. Unlike the Stygian Warriors and Thrall, the Dreadlords were conscious of what they wore and they preferred the heavy plated suits that appeared to be welded into their flesh. Despite that, the Dreadlords were quick and seeing one in motion would bring to mind either black oil leaking from an engine or a snake. Countless reports confirmed that the Dreadlords fed upon the Thrall – and they seemed to get larger, though less intelligent, than they were before. It was the Dreadlords whom reanimated the dead – archived footage showed Dreadlords standing over fallen soldiers and vomiting a long stream of dark fluid into corpses, which jerked awake immediately after and shambled into the ranks of Thrall. When a Dreadlord was destroyed, command of its Thralls passed to another Dreadlord. The Dreadlord they passed to weren’t usually the nearest – sometimes they stood in place for days waiting for some distant Dreadlord to arrive, or leave the place they were attacking and walk off into the distance only to return a few days later with their new Dreadlord and thousands of new siblings.

The Stygian Warriors were not as smart as the Dreadlords, but they were definitely smarter than the Thralls. They usually wielded weapons and were known for their cunning. Meanwhile, the Thralls were the bulk of the Reborn’s armies. Mindless but countless, many strong positions were overrun because they ran out of bullets before the attacking Dreadlord ran out of Thralls. Both Stygian Warriors and Thrall looked roughly the same – bleeding from various sores and strange mutations all over. Some had tentacles, while others had scales and claws – each of them a unique horror on their own. Some even had more than one head on their bodies, and sometimes those heads weren’t even human!

“Uh base, this is point Bravo. It appears there is a host of Reborn at the foot of the mountain. I count four distinct banners. They might be attempting a push into the backyard. Over,” came a voice over the radio – effectively disturbing Kale’s musings. Since each Dreadlord had their own banners, usually of painted and dried human skin, it was easy to count how many Dreadlords were there just by counting the distinct banners.

“Base, this is point Charlie. We also have a large host building up beneath us. There’s gotta be three lords over here. Over,” burst another voice over the radio immediately after the previous one stopped. Kale shivered. An average Dreadlord usually lead an army of over a thousand Thrall.

“Acknowledged. All points, air support is standing by. Tell us when and where to hit em and we will,” came the smooth female voice that everyone knew came from HQ. All field teams consisted of males since the rumours started that the Dreadlords used females as breeders for new Dreadlords. The sickening fact that most female Thralls appeared to have their wombs torn open from the inside solidified those rumours.

Zion only had three working gunships. They couldn’t risk flying out in the open because of the Dreadlords and their Stygian Warriors but they were perfect for decimating hordes of Thralls in the mountains.

Kale was worried. The last time a large force of Reborn assaulted the mountains, they broke through, wiped out all outposts in the mountains, and poured into Zion’s backyard. They then threw themselves against the Harnesser’s walls – bodies piling so high on all sides they climbed over them and fell in behind them. Four gunships were lost that day as they launched frantic attacks against Dreadlords – attempting to destroy them and divert the Thralls. It worked but when reinforcements from Zion arrived to shoot the wondering Thrall and burn the twitching bodies that could mutate and awaken soon, they only found four survivors in the hall.

Kale slung his rifle over his back and walked briskly to the group of men at the back of the hall. Five were sitting on the floor and playing a game of cards while ten stood around either smoking or chatting with each other. Kale noticed that they were wagering cigarettes now and he made a mental note to join them later when his shift ended. It was here at the back of the hall were mattresses were hewn onto the floor and those not on shifts could catch a few hours of sleep. They maintained ten hour shifts in which ten men stood guard while the other twenty rested. Currently the mattresses held no sleeping soldiers as nobody seemed to like sleeping during attacks – well, how no one could sleep when the light plasma guns were roaring and the machine guns were rattling was understandable – and Kale had seen five of the “resting” soldiers lost in conversation with the other soldiers on duty at the hall’s entrance.

“Hey Olswin. Give a man a light,” said Kale with one hand pulling an unfiltered cigarette from his jacket pocket and another reaching towards a soldier standing against the wall and exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

“You do remember that I am a higher rank than you?” said Olswin with a smile while searching his pockets for the lighter.

“Sir! May I use your lighter, sir?” exclaimed Kale while straightening himself and snapping off a salute.

“Get outta here,” laughed Olswin while tossing the lighter at Kale, whom failed to catch it at first but managed to after juggling briefly. “Careful mate. Drop that and you will be lighting all of my cigarettes from now on with my flamethrower.”

“Oh you be careful. I might enjoy it,” retorted Kale with a sneer while lighting his cigarette before tossing the lighter back to the specialist. Kale and Olswin grew up together and both started thirteen months ago but Olswin rose in rank faster than Kale.

As Olswin opened his mouth to add something, the radio burst to life. “Base, the f*****g horde is swarming into the mountain! The bastards were tunnelling into it! Harnesser defence, the backyard may be getting crowded soon!” announced the soldier on the radio. Realising he didn’t identify himself, he added, “This is point Bravo. Over.”

Without a word, the men that were playing rose from their game, cards dropping from their hands, and picked up their weapons. Olswin nodded at Kale and they both walked towards the entrance, unslinging their rifles and checking them on their way.

“Eh, this is point Charlie, same thing here. They’re going under us. Over,” came another voice accompanied by a burst of static from the radio. Kale wondered how long they had been digging – the mountains had solid rock under them so the diggers must’ve been there for years – and without power tools!

Kale could hear the distant sound of rotors as which soon turned into a roar as the gunships neared. He counted two – the third was probably still at Zion as reserve.

“They have broken through! They have broken through! Harnesser defence, they’re in the backyard! Air support would be appreciated right about now!” shouted a voice in the radio. It was impossible to tell which point it originated from but it really didn’t matter. Kale heard one of the gunships moving east towards the mountains.

“They have some sorta mobile launcher with them. They are –“ the voice got cut off and there was a brief burst of static. Kale had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. On impulse, he quickly reversed away from the men taking up positions around the thick plated door the covered the entrance. Suddenly, he got knocked off his feet by an unseen force and the dim room erupted in a flash of flame. A wave of hot air rushed over him and a loud bang left him deafened. Kale then passed out.

Kale awoke minutes later. The walls were on fire around him and his ears were ringing. He realized that he was staring right up at Geneviève – New Earth’s moon. The stench of burning metal filled his nostrils. Kale tried to rise but then a flash of stinging pain and lack of cooperation from his left leg prompted him to stare down at it. He groaned when he noticed a long rod driven into one side of his thigh and out the other.

Luckily, his rifle was still strapped onto him so he used it to support himself as he rose. When he managed to stand, he raised his head and surveyed the scene before him. Whatever hit them exploded on the roof and sent pieces of iron raining down on them – everyone that was with him in front was either dead or dying – some appeared to be screaming but Kale’s ears were ringing and the screams sounded muted. His breath caught when his eyes fell upon Olswin, lying sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood with a rod stuck in his neck.

But what horrified him more was the entrance – instead of the huge steel door that once stood there, there was a gaping hole in the wall. Looking through the hole he could see right to the gate outside. Well, what remained of the gate. The gate was a twisted mass of metal and the concrete walls around it appeared to have collapsed.

Movement to his left caught his eye and he spun around while trying to raise his rifle.

“Now where the hell did they find that?” boomed sergeant Ackson who slid up beside him. He looked at Kale and raised an eyebrow at Kale’s attempt to lift his weapon. “Soldier I hope you turned off your safety. You’re probably gonna need to use that soon.”

Kale jumped despite his leg, groaned when the pain hit him, and fumbled with the safety switch. Ackson smiled and hoisted his own weapon, a light machinegun, onto his shoulder. “Ah boys, appears this is where we make our last stand,” he announced.

More men moved up from behind Ackson, fanning out and taking various stances. Kale lifted his rifle and aimed down the sight at the wrangled gateway beyond the hole in that was once the halls door. He was ready.

Then they heard them. The groaning, screeching, and coughing that the hordes of Thralls usually generated. The symphony of dread grew louder as the horde drew near.

“This is it boys. We don’t have all day. Make every shot count!” exclaimed the sergeant. Kale could hear someone praying to his right and whimpering far to his left. Sweat slid down his face, threatening to cloud his eyes, but he didn’t dare take wipe it off. The sounds of the horde grew louder till Kale could barely hear the roar of Zion’s wall guns in the distance.

Then the first Thrall appeared. It seemed to Kale that they all fired simultaneously – himself included – and the Thrall disappeared in a cloud of sickly green pus, tissue, and bone. Kale’s ears rang but he didn’t have any time to notice as more Thralls flooded the gate.

Some men outside must’ve survived the salvo because Kale noticed tracers streaking into the horde from places hidden by the halls walls and he smiled as he took aim and fired at any exposed head he found. Ackson was opened up – the pounding of his machine gun going fully automatic beside Kale deafened him but he didn’t care. The hall amplified the roar of their weapons as they fired into the mass of writhing and twisting bodies that was surging towards them.

A head with so many large pores on it that it looked like a sieve here, a face with what appeared to be gills there – Kale didn’t keep his attention on one for long – he just aimed, squeezed the trigger, and started looking for the next target. Someone to his left threw a grenade into the incoming mass of bodies and pieces of writing limbs and snaky tentacles rained down through the hole in the roof after the loud and bright detonation. Still, the soldiers kept their guns blazing.

Suddenly, a Stygian Warrior marched around the corner with a rocket launcher. Kale shot it on its neck and it spun around – launching its rocket into the mass of Thrall beside him. They all disappeared in a flash of fire, dust, and concrete.

Someone whooped – Kale no longer could discern whether it was to his left or right. Yet, more Stygian Warriors poured around the corner with rifles and pistols and some managed to squeeze of a few rounds before being mowed down. While most shots missed their targets, Kale still heard a few screams as some of the soldiers beside him fell. Another Stygian Warrior rounded the corner, wormlike tentacles writhing on every exposed part of its body, but this one was armed with what seemed to be a portable plasma cannon. Kale took aim and cursed when all he heard was a dry click indicating his clip was empty.

The Stygian took aim with its weapon – aiming directly at Kale. Kale dropped the rifle to the side while reaching for his sidearm. However, the falling rifle hit the rod stuck in his leg and the shock and pain drove Kale to his knees. The Stygian fired and the plasma arc streaked over Kale’s head – he could feel its intense heat as it passed over him – and slammed into the Harnesser. Kale drew his sidearm and shot the Stygian three times in the chest.

Kale rose unsteadily, supporting himself with the empty rifle, and turned to survey the damage on the Harnesser. There was a hole on it with glowing red edges. Black light appeared to be spilling out of the hole. Then hit him. The light is going in! The Harnesser is ruptured!

Simultaneous gasps among the soldiers around him forced his attention back to the gate. Standing there was a tall armoured Dreadlord with a heavy machinegun. A thrall stood behind it caring a pole that had a banner of human skin hanging on it.

All the soldiers directed their fire at the Dreadlord but it calmly strode forward – bullets ricocheting off its armoured body and showering sparks onto the ground. In one swift motion, the Dreadlord lifted its machinegun and sprayed into the hall. Kale found himself spinning around as one slug tore through his left shoulder but he managed keep from falling by steading himself against the Harnesser with his right hand.

The Dreadlord stopped firing and Kale pushed himself up. Everyone around him was on the floor and none seemed able to rise in a hurry. Kale turned towards the Dreadlord. The horde of Thrall now stood still and the Dreadlord stepped forward. Without hesitation, Kale plucked a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and threw it at the Dreadlord. He retrieved another and just finished pulling the pin when the Dreadlord swept the first grenade off the grass in front of it and threw it back at Kale in one fluid motion.

The grenade detonated in mid-air as it sailed through the doorway. Still, the force of it threw Kale backwards and he felt pieces of shrapnel forcing their way into multiple places on his body. His hand banged against the Harnesser on his way down – forcing the grenade from his grip and into the black light emanating from the Harnesser.

Before he could rise, he felt an iron hard grip on the back of his neck. The Dreadlord picked him up with one hand. Kale found himself staring into the catlike eyes of the armoured terror. The Dreadlord’s face was armoured too – plates of dark metal fused into the skin – but the eyes and mouth were exposed. Kale stared at row upon row of razor like teeth and a long serpent-like tongue.

“Life is a dream, little man,” hissed the Dreadlord in a rasping voice that brought the image of someone scratching a blackboard into Kale’s mind. “Life is a dream, and I will wake you!”

The Dreadlord had a strong fungal smell and Kale was overcome by a wave of nausea. Kale was barely aware that he loosened his bowels. A long black tongue slid out of the Dreadlord’s mouth and extended towards Kale’s face. No! The bastard’s gonna transform me while I live!

A muted explosion beside them jerked both their attentions to the Harnesser. Time seemed to slow rapidly and he felt the force of the grenade tearing him up and pushing him away. But then he felt another stronger force pulling him towards the Harnesser. The feeling of weightlessness set in and he no longer could tell which way was up or down. He felt searing pain all over and he tried to scream but he couldn’t move his mouth. Horror and confusion filled him as he saw his own body fly away from him.

His own body looked bloody and broken and he would’ve winched if it was possible. He saw his arms break off at the elbows – spewing globules of dark red blood that hung lazy followed him towards the inescapable gravity pull of the mini black hole. Kale was trying to scream when everything faded to black.