Sean-Michael Argo - Dead Worlds

Atop the platform, made of the alien stone, was an item that could only be described as a throne. Seated in the chair was a humanoid machine that appeared to be made of an amalgamation of wires, metal plates, and pale flesh. Its face was bestial and savage looking, and disturbingly, reminded Samuel of Ben’s grim visage, a death’s head image that he knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

The cables plugged into the back of its monstrous head, making it appear to have a flowing mane of hair instead of cords connecting it to all of the dead legionnaires.

Samuel was the first to reach the platform and as he placed his boot on the first step he could see a pulse of green hued energy pass through the stone steps and up to the throne.

The cyborg’s eyes snapped open and burned a brilliant yellow, as if its eyes were actually heat vents for some furnace deep within its body and not lights at all. The marine felt as though it stared straight into the core of his being, and had heard his inner dialogue.

Opening its mouth, an inhuman, ear splitting sound roared from it, causing the marines to cover their ears and draw back.

All across the chamber the hundreds of cables attached to the legionnaires broke loose, falling to the floor with a clatter and every corpse sat up in unison. The cyborg’s voice boomed once more and the animated legionnaires climbed from their tables and stood.

The machine stood from its throne, the segmented cables breaking away with angry hisses, as the monstrosity rose to its full height, towering over the Reapers at nearly ten feet tall.

The corpses stood motionless, the aim of the marines wavering between the legionnaires and the cyborg.

Samuel could not tear his eyes away from the burning gaze of the cyborg. He knew that he stood in the presence of intelligence both ancient and terrible, one beyond human comprehension.

Wynn Marsters broke the tension with two powerful words, and unleashed a storm.

“ Kill it! ”

Half of the marines were frozen in place, their minds too shocked by the chamber full of animated legionnaires and the titan machine to react, but the other half opened fire and in seconds the chamber thundered with the sounds of the battle.

Samuel felt as if his limbs were made of lead. No matter how much his mind screamed at his body to obey his commands he stood frozen in place, his gaze held by the machine. All around him marines shouted and fired, some at the cyborg and others the standing corpses. Dozens of rounds pinged off of the metal plating of the cyborg’s body, a few managing to sink into small patches of exposed flesh or unprotected cabling, but they appeared to have no effect.

The cyborg roared once more and the corpses suddenly exploded into action, surging forward as one body to engage the marines hand-to-hand.

The sound of Bianca’s shouts and her gun firing behind him finally snapped Samuel out of his fugue.

A legionnaire collapsed in a bloody heap as Bianca riddled him with bullets. Samuel joined her in gunning down a second one as the legionnaires charged up the steps. The marine was shocked at how many rounds it took to bring the already dead hostile to the ground. He could see that several Reapers had been overpowered by the reckless berserkers.

The marines were screaming as the legionnaire corpses crawled over them, overwhelming them with sheer numbers, stripping away their armor with bare hands so that they could rip into the flesh beneath with clawed fingers and teeth. Samuel saw a legionnaire pick up a marine’s discarded rifle, raising it to his shoulder and shooting through the melee at other Reapers.

Corpses wielding firearms was more than Samuel could handle, and a primal hate rose up from his belly and raged in his brain. This was unnatural, unknown, and an abomination. More than anything he wanted to do as he was told and kill the filth.

Kill all of them.

Samuel snapped his own rifle to his shoulder and began firing with his iron sights, letting his instincts take over and allowing his training and experience with the weapon do the work. The marine had never fully recovered psychologically from the events downspire on Vorhold, and he rarely used his digital scope. Plenty of marines in the chamber with him, standing on the platform steps above the general melee, were using the scopes to devastating effect, yet he could not bring himself to trust it.

More noises joined the cacophony as Ben and the two heavy gun operators from Gamma and Whiskey platoon cut loose with their rigs, spitting streams of high velocity rounds that schythed through the legionnaires.

The gunners, all veterans and masters of their weapons, knew better than to attempt to engage the enemy while there were so many hostiles in close quarters engagements with the first firing line of marines. The heavies shouldered their way through the rapidly forming Reaper battle lines so that they could pour on the firepower without much risk of hitting any friendlies.

Before Samuel’s rifle clicked dry he could see that the marines had managed to close ranks and form a crude battle line at the base of the platform. Several marines had been torn to pieces by the legionnaires or been gunned down using scavenged rifles. Now that they had a firing line and three heavy gunners, the tide was changing from a pitched melee to a veritable slaughter. Samuel had already emptied his first magazine, so the marine took a knee and fished out another magazine.

“Reloading!” shouted Samuel as he slotted in a magazine while Patrick moved to stand between the kneeling marine and the battle in front of them.

When Samuel raised his head and stood, he saw the horrific conflict occurring at the center of the platform. While he and most of the other marines had been focused on holding back the grim tide of reanimated legionnaires, a handful of others had pressed upwards to engage the cyborg.

Samuel knew he’d turned to face the corpses out of fear of the creature before him, and it was only once he saw the corpses fighting and dying that he had found the power to lash out. Most of the other marines had reacted like Samuel, turning from an unknowable and mind-numblingly powerful enemy to battle a lesser, though no less horrific, enemy.

A select few Reapers had instead, mounted an attack against the titan machine, for all the good it had done.

The cyborg had fully detached itself from the cables and held both of its arms up, clawed fingers spread out to generate what appeared to be some kind of energy force field.

Jada Sek and Boss Ulanti stood shoulder to shoulder as they took turns slamming the shield with sustained burst fire, one shooting while the other reloaded. Boss Harker was on the opposite side of the platform, peppering the shield with single shots, probing different parts of the spherical shield, searching for a weak point. Virginia and Boss Marsters, along with two marines from Whiskey Platoon, were also pouring on the firepower.

A lone marine from Gamma Platoon was pressing forward, firing only intermittently. Just moving was a struggle the closer any of the marines got to the cyborg and its shield. Boss Marsters began to march forward as well. As if they had all been waiting for his command to join the lone marine, the entire group pushed forward. They were buffeted by the energy wash of the shield. To Samuel, it felt as if they were trying to march through a heavy wind, using all of their strength to push on.

The cyborg’s shield shuddered with impacts as the power of their weapons hit it harder and harder the closer they got, giving the swirling sphere of energy less time to react and demanding that it expend more and more power to keep the projectiles at bay.

Suddenly the cyborg lowered its left hand and the sphere was bisected as the entire left side dissipated. Several rounds struck the cyborg, most bouncing off of its metal skin, but some tearing away at the exposed flesh. In the blink of an eye the titan’s left arm shot straight up and its fist clenched.