Chapter 119 - The Railgun at the Edge of the Trench
"Back away from him, Eleanor!" David shouted, his voice ringing against the obsidian walls, his rifle trained dead-center on the exposed mass of her bio-mechanical heart.
A dry, rattling laugh echoed through the chamber.
*"You still hold a rifle, little soldier,"* Eleanor hissed through the neural link. *"You still believe in bullets. You still believe you can shoot the tide."*
Beneath the operating table, Arthur groaned. His eyes fluttered open—not with the arrogant, smooth confidence of the favored son who had mocked David's service dress in the ballroom, but with the hollow, feral terror of a beast being broken on the wheel.
"D-David..." Arthur choked out, black fluid dripping from his lips. "She... she lied. It isn't a treaty. They don't want... partners. They're... consuming us..."
"Shut up, Arthur!" Eleanor’s voice boomed through the chamber, causing the air pressure to spike so violently that two of the tactical operators dropped to their knees, blood pouring from their ears. *"He is weak! He was always an imitation! But you, David... your marrow was harvested from the first wreck. You are the rightful anchor. Give your blood to the spire, and mankind will be allowed to serve as the Vanguard's auxiliary fleet!"*
"And if I refuse?" David said, taking two slow, deliberate steps toward the cradle.
*"Then the six dreadnoughts in the upper atmosphere will initiate orbital bombardment,"* Eleanor replied, her voice flattening into pure, mathematical coldness. *"Every city on the continental shelf will be reduced to glass within four hours. Your friends, your soldiers, the flag you broke your body for—all of it turned to vapor in the dark."*
"David!" Sterling's voice crackled through his tactical earpiece from the corridor outside. "We have a secondary contact! A sub-level tactical railgun mounted on the lower gantry! It was designed to scuttle the spire if the integration failed! But the manual firing sequence requires a physical blood-print on the console!"
David didn't look back. His eyes remained locked on the monstrosity that had once been his mother.
"You spent your whole life telling me I didn't belong in the room, Eleanor," David said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying calm. "You told me the generals and the senators were the only ones who mattered. You told me my uniform was an embarrassment."
He lowered his rifle and drew his combat knife with his right hand.
"You were wrong," David whispered. "The uniform wasn't an embarrassment. It was the only real thing this family ever had."
May you like
David lunged forward.
***
