Chapter 626: War In Heaven (2/2)
”You don't seem worried,” he said.
The rabbit girl just shrugged.
”I'm terrified,” Peter admitted.
”You are Chromium Peter, Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah,” Dambree said softly. ”I have prayed for the strength to endure my demons.”
Peter nodded. ”Many do,” he hung his head. ”You must be disappointed.”
Dambree looked at the door. ”You are not a warrior.”
”No,” Peter admitted. He gave a self-mocking laugh. ”You would not believe how many times I wished I was like Daxin or Thomas or even Matty the First.”
Dambree shrugged. ”Why? You are who you are.”
”Because then I wouldn't be terrified all the times things like this happen,” he gave another rueful laugh. ”I'm so pathetic that the Imperium didn't even twist me into an immortal, they just sold me to an omnicorp.”
Dambree stood silent.
”It must be a disappointment to see me like this,” Peter said, glancing at the monitor that was showing the results of his ongoing search strings through libraries of object architecture libraries.
”No,” Dambree said. ”Like me, you are not a warrior.”
Peter frowned. ”What do you mean?”
”I'm just Dambree Limberton,” the bunny-girl said softly. ”I would pray to you for strength and courage with even more fervor now that I have been in your presence as you do the work of the Digital Omnimessiah.”
Peter cocked his head. ”But why?”
”Because you are afraid,” Dambree said. ”Yet you do what must be done anyway, as I did. You, of all the Biological Apostles, know what it was to be me when the Atrekna came.”
Peter had no answer.
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Outside the facility the mob was screaming, clawing at one another, smashing anything they could. Their upraised voices howled their rage, their fury, as they vocalized their torment, pain, and madness.
The door to the facility slid open and the Screaming Ones in front of the door were hit by a wave of purplish-blue energy that reduced them to a fine mist in a split second. In a half-circle around the door, for a hundred paces, the Screaming Ones were obliterated, atomized, reduced to nothing more than reddish steam.
Menhit the Singer, Biological Apostle, the Wrath Singer, surrounded by a golden nimbus, walked out into the cleared space even as the crowd surged forward.
Lightning arced around Menhit's feet as she lifted up into the air, her hair streaming out behind her. She spread her arms wide as she looked at the surging crowd of Screaming Ones below her.
”I HAVE COME TO RELIEVE YOU OF YOUR AGONY, BELOVED AND WOUNDED ONES!” she sang out.
Her voice shattered crysteel windows on skyrakers a thousand miles away.
Warsteel tore from the surface of the building, was shredded into long daggerlike shards, and began orbiting Mehnit's body in a complex twisting pattern even as she lifted up higher.
She put her hands together in front of her, staring down at the screaming crowd.
”You are redeemed,” she said softly, nodding her head.
There was a bright flash of phasic power detonating and the screaming stopped.
When the light cleared, all that remained on the ground was the warsteel surface and the scrith exposed here and there, a pinkish steam rising up from the metal.
The Screaming Ones howled and charged.
Menhit smiled sorrowfully.
She knew what was to be done was needed but it did not make it any easier.
She lifted her hand, extended her fingers out, and twitched her wrist.
The crowd turned to pink mist.
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Vuxten dropped down next to FIDO, who had his cooling fins and tongue extended, panting like the goodboi to try to relieve the heat.
”Menhit's engaged,” Daxin said over the comlink. ”Screaming Ones, not androids.”
”That's gonna be ugly,” Vuxten heard Kalki answer. ”Our beloved sister is much more than she seems as she kneels by the river to sing as she washes her sari.”
Vuxten pushed the questions away, going down on one knee, pulling the M318 up into the rest position. He could see the heat coming off the barrel shroud, hear the whistling of the nanoforge.
”You OK back there, buddy?” Vuxten asked.
--hot hot hot-- 471 replied. --i walk in the steps of gravity have no fear of death--
Vuxten just nodded, watching the heat levels. He was still firmly in the red on the weapons and his nanoforge, but the armor's cooling was working and he was already in the high yellow.
”We make it out of this, we never have to buy another drink ever,” Vuxten said.
471 answered with a smiley emoji and then an animated image of a trio of green mantid with knives and forks chasing a cooked turkey.
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”Evil bitch,” Sam snarled, the left going slack as the right snarled. ”You're nothing but pure evil and barbarism.”
”Yet you stood right here and argued that even I should be saved. You placed me in a position of authority in Hell, you advocated for me to be saved,” Dee said, tilting her head slightly.
”Everyone deserves a second chance,” Sam whined from the left. His face contorted on the right. ”You threw my generosity in my face!”
Dee nodded slowly. ”You're mad.”
”Yes! I just want order!” Sam screamed from the right. He hung his head. ”So many people. They're all screaming, begging, crying out for us to help them,” he said on the left.
”Then help me process them,” Dee said.
Sam looked up. ”You think you have all the answers,” the right snarled. ”How, how can we help them? How can I have you help process them without subjecting them to torment at your hands to heal them?” the left sobbed.
Sam suddenly stopped. ”What? What are you doing?” both sides asked.
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”HERE THEY COME!” Daxin roared out, lowering his SMG and opening fire.
Vuxten still couldn't believe the ranges Daxin engaged the enemy at with the SMG. He knew the supposed maximum effective range of that particular model of submachinegun was supposedly only one-hundred fifty meters.
Daxin was shooting off android's heads at nearly two kilometers with pointpoint accuracy.
Vuxten lowered the barrel of the ornately engraved and inlaid 20mm autocannon.
He could see the Enraged running at them, see their open mouths as they screamed out their torment and agony and wrath.
--you can't help them-- 471 said, flashing icons of sorrow.
”I know,” Vuxten said.
He squeezed the firing grip.