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Jean Preston: Sledgehammer

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Jean Preston Sledgehammer

Sledgehammer: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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In a desolate, primitive future, strangers join forces to escape to a utopia.

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“We tried that once before. There can be no division. You will join with us, or you will perish.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Said Alana bitterly, holding up the EMP.

“Be reasonable,” Said the Immortal, pointing to the adjoining room. “Within those servers are millions of lives. Lives that have stretched for aeons, more complicated and beautiful than you can possibly imagine.”

Alana stared at the door the Avalon guard had fired at. A large hole had been formed, molten metal dripped down, cooling rapidly.

“What about the lives of the people you killed. Innocents. Children.”

“It is regrettable that their rulers subjected them to our wrath. But we only act in self-defence, I assure you. I see that you grieve, and perhaps it is by our hands? I am truly sorry.”

“Oh fuck off,” said Alana.

Another Immortal stepped forward.

“Let me ask you this: Will killing millions bring back your loved ones?”

“I am sorry that you grieve, I am sorry that death haunts you. We sought to create a deathless world, and we were successful.”

Alana considered this a moment, breathing heavily, she stared at the cyborg intently, her eyes narrowed. “You’re insane. You’re not hundreds of years old. You’ve got a Chester militia tattoo. That didn’t exist 50 years ago.”

“These bodies are but shells. We are forced to inhabit them in order to traverse the material world. It is regrettable and gruesome, I admit, but at present there is no other way. Know this: we only use bodies of soldiers who fought against us wickedly, and died in the process.”

“You can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head “You can’t just force people to live in your… fucking dreamworld.”

“We can. And we will. I have just received word – your device has been remotely disabled. It will not function.”

“Liar!” she screamed.

“I have no reason to lie. Consider this: If you flip that switch, you will have shown yourself to be an enemy of our cause. We will be forced to kill you. If you place it down, on the ground, we will embrace you as one of our own.”

“If only you could see paradise. You would know that our cause is just. I would be honoured to have you join us. It is plane without death, without suffering. All the agonising memories of your life can be wiped away. You can be reborn, if you wish.”

“You have two choices. Die now, pointlessly, or live forever in eternal bliss.”

A new female Immortal approached her, stepping into the light “What is your name?” she asked kindly. The cyborg had blonde hair, and a large plain face, much like her own, but with dead blue eyes. There was a large birthmark on her cheek, Port red.

Alana stared blankly at her, her mouth slightly agape. Tears silently welled in her eyes.

“What troubles you?”

Alana flipped the switch.

A bubble of energy exploded out from the yellow box. Lights flickered and died. The Immortals jerked and attempted to fire at Loma, they smashed to the floor, leaking foul yellow liquid. The servers behind her crackled, lighting sparked, circuits blackened and burned.

She picked up her sledgehammer and swung it down on the console, screaming. She cracked and penetrated the surface. White crackling light erupted from it, illuminating the dark room.

She crept through the smoking hole into the server room – It was the size of a warehouse. There were rows upon rows of black obelisks – each one was spitting out little white sparks onto the floor. Alana walked amongst the machinery. She stopped at one obelisk and, lifting the sledgehammer behind her, raised it slowly up and then-smashed it into the machine. Its structure collapsed and a spiral of bright white sparks erupted, like a galaxy being born in the darkness. Row upon row of servers were shattered, till she lay exhausted, struggling to breathe on the floor.

Later, some remnants of Loma’s army stumbled into the circular room, using their lanterns to guide their way. They held their shirts to their noses as they passed the dead Immortals  – their faces had been caved in – all but one.

Saburo crouched into the server room, little white sparks stung at him, he passed through rows of ruined obelisks, till he found Alana sitting, her back to the wall, her hammer on her lap. Her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. Saburo fell to his knees and held her shoulders.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s done.” She turned to look at Saburo.

Saburo helped her to her feet, and they made their way out of the maze of concrete tunnels. Soldiers ran past them. They walked through the crumbling Citadel silently. They emerged blinking into the sunlight.

Epilogue

Alana and Robert rode over blooming hills, they crossed into a meadow. They leapt over hedges. They trotted down a woodland path. They emerged out of the woods and lowered their poncho hoods, soaking in the sunlight.

They trotted through thick bushes, and when they emerged out the other side they saw a group of nuns, covered in their orange robes. They were picking berries, they looked up at the two Rangers in silent terror.

Robert looked to Alana. She stared at the nuns. She dismounted, walked slowly towards them.

She pushed her poncho aside and revealed the sword of Barabbas, in its sheath. She untied it from her belt, held it in both gloved hands. She offered it up to a nun.

The nun stared at it, then was amazed, her eyes lit up, she looked at Alana, bewildered. Alana smiled weakly and nodded. The nun covered her arm in orange fabric and lifted the sword gently off from Alana’s palms. She bowed, as did her sisters. Alana bowed. Robert bowed, confused. The nuns smiled at them, joy in their hearts, they ran back to their temple.

Alana remounted her horse, she turned and rode away.

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