Dragons

Caius sat by a resting Angelica amidst the worrying dissonance of gunfire. Their cacophonous orchestra yelled like a million wasps by his ear, and yet she slept soundly. It could be because she’s used to such a noise, it could be because she has gone deaf. Who knows, Caius surely doesn’t.

By the bedside was a table, on it was a small one way radio that broadcasted from the frontlines. He had heard of Agrippa’s speech to his men, a speech followed by endless gunfire. But as he stared at the juxtaposition in front of him, the radio that detailed the gore and violence of war, and her, a victim of it, he stopped to think if it was all worth it.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” A man entered the clinic, his hair blue and his earpiece blasting music louder than the gunfire away from them. This earpiece dangled on his neck, which allowed Caius to hear that he listened to rock music, among other things.

“A quote from the bible, how original. Why bring it up?” Caius knew about the mantra from the various books his uncle left behind. This one harkened to an extremely old time, when christianity was still widely practiced and the galaxy didn’t spiral out of control with its idealisms.

Labienus smiled, “Nothing. Father wondered if you’re doing well.”

“Decimus? Ah, yes, yes. Tell him I’m hanging on,” Caius stared blankly, reminiscing about his time in the jungle, how brief it was yet life changing.

“Wonderful! Hey, Caius.” Labienus walked by and touched Caius' shoulder which made him jump for a moment, he glared at the blue haired boy but backed down quite quickly and easily with a sigh.

“What’s up?”

“Ya seem to be knowledgeable of ancient era literature,” He referenced the bible, something only Caius would know due to his extensive noble lineage, “I reckon you’d know about a certain king Arthur?”

“I am familiar with him, yes?” Caius had read the old poems which depicted the knight-king.

“Great!” Labienus reached up behind him and dragged a chair, the screeching noise of the chair being dragged across the floor momentarily disturbed Angelica’s sleep that Caius had to calm her down as she fell back to her rest, “Sorry, anyway,” Labienus sat down, “I’ve only read snippets of them from my father’s novels, care to tell me more about them?”

“For instance?”

“Dragons? They exist, yes?”

“Oh, they do. They absolutely do.”

*

Things looked dire on the frontlines, the wounded casualties grew by the minute and yet the unrelenting march of the enemy rang on. Their ammunition, scarce as it was, were now down to the triple digits. Soldiers found themselves using knives to assassinate an enemy and grab hold of their weapon. It was better than dying without a fight.

Agrippa stood his ground in the first trench, pistol in one hand, a rifle in the other. Waves upon waves of Sakilo-Jawani soldiers crashed upon his trench and yet with the determination to live, he slaughtered them one by one. And though they showered him with bullets and their blood, the cyborg did not waver. “AAAGGGHHH! DO NOT WAVER!” He yelled to his men, but there were no men, he was alone.

Despite being overrun, he stood his ground. Another soldier came down, armed with a bayonet in his rifle, he charged straight towards Agrippa who dodged the attack before blasting two holes into the soldier. As the soldier fell, he snatched away the rifle and mowed down more of his enemies.

Another came down and took a blind shot towards Agrippa. The shot rang out and hit his mechanical shoulder blades, it knocked him down and threw the pistol out of his hands. Quickly, he turned to face his shooter and made him eat an entire magazine of ammunition. But it was all over, he couldn’t move his shoulder anymore, and though he fired the rifle with all his might, it couldn’t kill them all.

He felt his knees weak as he slumped down the trench walls. He closed his eyes and waited for his death, there was nothing more to be done after all. No more bullets to fire, no more knives to stab. People walked over him, thinking he’s already dead, and he might as well be. Wounded, bruised all over, there was no hope.

But a beacon of hope shone from across the sky. Not light, but sound, music, the music of jets, the music of missiles that flew towards its target, the music of explosions. From behind enemy lines, a blazing fire rose into the sky, followed by the sonic boom of jets that flew by.

“Overlord, sorry for the delay,” Julius said over the radio, “Here be dragons.” Agrippa looked towards the coast, far on the horizon he saw several dozen carriers making their way towards Haytham, high above them were X4-10 CAS, hunk of metals that were nicknamed “Dragon”. At the end of their plane was a weapon unlike any other, a gun, typically too heavy for a regular jet to carry. It spun like a gatling gun and firing it would cause the jet to rapidly lose speed, yet would wipe an entire regiment within seconds, indeed, it was as if the gun was made for the plane. And the plane was made for the gun.

And Agrippa saw these jets fire. The bright muzzle flash shone like stars in the sky, and the thousands of tracer rounds that appeared once every 100 bullets looked like comets. He saw the smoke leave the barrels and then, he ducked.

‘BRRRT’. The harrowing sound of the X4-10, the cacophony of gunfire down in the trenches, stopped for a moment to make way for the orchestra akin to a lower pitched chirping of a million cicadas. The pure power reverberated through Agrippa’s core and within seconds, he was no longer swamped from head to toe by enemies.

Eventually it stopped, and Agrippa peeked his head out of the trench. Apart from the dead and dying, there was not a soul between him and the rearlines to which Decimus and the wounded stayed. Smoke seeped out of the bodies of some of the soldiers, presumably being directly hit, their insides fried to nothing but ash.

Though, a man stood behind Agrippa, a soldier that rose from his wounds. With his dying breath, he gripped his knife tightly and charged down the wounded cyborg. Every step along the dirt of no man’s land filled his vigor and determination to take this man down with him. Every sweat and teardrop which would culminate should this knife dig into Agrippa’s flesh. Dreams cut short with a gunshot straight to the head.

“Still alive?” Asked Julius, smoke escaped from his barrel, fresh from fire. He stood with a thousand men, with a million more on the way.

“Barely.” Replied Agrippa who stood atop a trillion dead souls.