Free Enemy by Paul Hughes

overwhelmed by the sheer firepower of the Judas fleet. Beams of light emerged from countless ports on the Enemy’s surface as it tried to fend off the Judas attack. Waves and ripples of energy flew everywhere, blinding with their wake those unfortunate enough to be ensnared in their web.
         The game of eternity had begun another round.
     
    At the sight of one of the men on the island in an obvious stance of surrender, arms outstretched, the pilot eased the Spear to earth, all the while with the heavy machine guns trained on the group. The troops on the plane prepared to disembark and surround them.
         “I’m going, too,” Jennings said, pulling the gun from its hidden holster beneath his coat. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask these people personally.”
         They felt the plane settle on the ground with a gentle bump. The ramp began to descend, and a warm breeze from the ocean bathed the inside of the plane.
     
         Reynald’s outstretched hand began to quiver, and he opened his eyes. His impossibly silver eyes looked up.
         His mind lashed out.
     
         There was a dull thud from within the Spear, and a piercing siren began to wail.
         “We just lost—everyone out, now! The fuel tanks have been punctured!!”
         A flurry of activity. Time seemed to drag to a halt.
         Jennings felt himself roughly thrown down the ramp. “Get the president out, now! Shield him!” He was on the sand, bodies above him, when the world became fire and sound. An instant later, the second tank exploded and hot shrapnel embedded itself in his right arm and carved a shallow trench across his forehead.
         He struggled to stand, flares of agony coming from his arm, coppery blood coursing into his right eye from the wound on his forehead. He forced the dead bodies of two soldiers off of his back, his mind morbidly noting that the one remaining eye in the soldier’s head on the left was a beautiful and striking emerald green, and the soldier on the right was wearing a shiny golden cross around his neck that reflected the sunshine like a prism around and around the chocolate brown bloodstained flesh of his neck. If they hadn’t been there, he would have been killed.
         He spun around, shielding himself from the vicious flames of the debris with his good arm.
         They had given their lives to save his.
         He was alone with the men in black.
         He awkwardly drew the revolver from the holster of one of the dead soldiers with his left hand and staggered at the terrorists, blood pouring from his arm. He dazedly wiped blood from his eye, and was amazed at how much there was on his hand when he pointed the weapon up at the men standing before him.
         He pulled back the hammer.
     
         black
         THEY OVERPOWER US.
         SILENCE. THEY ARE ONLY VERMIN.
         OUR VESSEL SUFFERS.
         LET IT SUFFER AS WE WILL MAKE THEM SUFFER. THEIR PATTERNS WILL BE ERASED FROM OMEGA AND THEY WILL SUFFER THEIR HELLS FOR ETERNITY.
         WE MUST ESCAPE.
         ESCAPE((?)) WERE YOU NOT PART OF ME, I WOULD STRIKE YOU DOWN FOR SUCH COWARDICE.
         insight.
         OUR VESSEL SHALL BECOME TWO ONCE MORE.
         ONE TO COMMENCE HARVEST UPLOAD, ONE TO—
         ONE TO BE A SACRIFICE.
         A NOBLE CAUSE.
         INDEED. YOU SHALL BE A MARTYR.
         silence, realization, resignation.
         THE PURPOSE WILL BE COMPLETED.
         MAY YOUR BLOOD, WHEN SPILLED, BE HONORABLE.
         MY END WILL BE YOUR BEGINNING.
         the black closes.
     
         They hung in the zero-grav airlocks, lambs ready for slaughter.
         Spears of light flashed incessantly from both the Enemy and the Judas, who hovered around the monstrous vessel like a swarm of stinging hornets.
         Another flash, another tangible torrent of screaming souls being erased from the pattern. Fourteen Judas now.
         “Now?”