The Call of Leonis (cont.)
by Sawyer Averies
22 June 2041 AE
Continued from The Call of Leonis: Part One
I began to doubt my involvement with this operation, a civilian amongst the rank and file of competent and – more importantly – trained personnel. The first time I picked up a rifle was aboard the Eidolon when we were already underway to Leonis. My extent of training was to dry fire the weapon once, under the instruction of Lieutenant JG Stephen Kulko, a man tasked with keeping me alive as if being third in line of command on Cobra Talon wasn't enough pressure. Unfortunately, Stephen was in the Bravo team. We were separated the first day.
I found a moment of usefulness teamed up with Lieutenant JG Haeleah Parres, the two of us positioned at the computer terminals in the MolGen facility facing off with 0's and 1's, while others explored the lay of the land above. We remained busy, pushing back images of what lay in the adjoining rooms. Later, the scouting team brought back news that we had all dreamed for, but dare not hope: survivors. There were other humans on the surface, wearing green armbands as they scuttled through the shadows like mice trying to avoid the fangs of the Centurion snakes that wound through the streets on patrol. The mystery of the green 'III' was subsequently solved, and a new worry arose. Who's territory did we find ourselves in? Friend or foe. Was the remnants of humanity now in sects that were pitted against each other for survival?
Our supplies were meant to last forty eight hours, long enough for us to get to the extraction zone, should our original plan fail. We were pushing past seventy-two. As the water in the facility was non-potable, we were forced to take to the streets and go scavenging. The best we could do was all organic bakery, and with no preservatives, time had managed to rot away the majority of the food. We were able to find a case of water, some coffee grounds, and a few edibles that we were quick to claim in the name of survival. The streets were quiet. And then there was a woman.
As if the world never ceased to exist as we knew it, she was sitting at a cafe table just outside the building, sipping on a morning cup of coffee that filled the air with the smell of the rich roasted beans and a newspaper was folded in her hand as she read over columns that were published more then sixty days ago. The day of the Holocaust. She was in a crisp black suit and heels, a slice of elegance on a backdrop of crumbled concrete and shattered glass, while the rest of us stood there in dirty and dusty fatigues and boots.
We had seen her face before. She was shown to us by the machine-based monstrosity back at MolGen, were we watched on the screen as she blew herself up in a brilliant display of destruction that crippled the a weapon's testing range. And yet… there she was. In the unmarred flesh. Guns were raised against her, but she spoke to us calmly in twisted words that were as filled with riddles as the halls of MolGen. Her references were to a singular God, her body as just a shell, and had such great contempt for us it was almost palpable in her words. More disturbingly, she seemed to know the names of some of our party, as if once well acquainted. "This was a merciful death," She spoke of the ruined city around us, though the implication she was referring the Twelve Colonies wide, "Learn from it – and let it end. For if you persist in your attempts to eradicate His children, He will strike again." She delivered her warning, and departed just as dawn turned into day.