After spending a few additional hours at Mirra’s Tower, Eurus gathers his things and sets off towards Martian Command HQ as the Sun starts to rise. Before flying off he tells Mirra, that she can at least come and see the launch if she’d like to send him off.
Eurus says:
“You can come watch the launch. Let me know whether you’re coming,” he gives a device to Mirra, “It’s encoded for use only by you and it’s a direct line.”
“You’ll be fine without me,” says Mirra as she takes the device from his hands. She smiles. She says: “But I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll let you know.”
Her kiss lingers on his lips, soft and almost as if she tries to cage the fleeting moment for a while longer. But like sand through her fingers, the moment passes just the same. She feels a shift in her demeanor and it’s palpable for Eurus as well. She reminds herself of a loving house-wife more than a crime lord at this point.
The Vulcan 5 roars off her citadel grove, an oasis built in the middle of the sprawl. Eurus rises up on his trusty steed above the city and the Sun turns onto his back as he aims his stat bike towards the military base. Mirra stands on the rooftop, not for the eden it is but to delay her emerging feeling of yearning.
Eurus sends a message to War Martial Honors:
“Cell Circuit Eurus inbound, what is your status?”
A few seconds later he receives.
“Message received. Waiting on your arrival.”
He rides across the skyline of Papülonis towards the Martian Command. Unlike the night before the ride is slower, more measured. Time is of the essence but he’s not in a hurry either. He feels a weight in him, stopping him from haste. But it’s not stopping him dead.
The base comes into view in a few dozen minutes. The Navigator ships and Exterminator Class destroyers are docked still. The massive ships are towering over the people around them, as if ants in comparison.
He parks his stat bike like before on the highest level of the Martian Command building and walks through the massive doors into the lobby. The guards are already aware of his arrival and don’t need to be strongarmed like before. The administrator desk is empty as it’s still early morning. Walking through the passages and hallways he finally arrives at War Martial Honors, who stands when he enters the room.
“Eurus,” she says calmly.
“War Martial. There is proof of high treason within the ranks of Ultra,” says Eurus.
“Treason? Expand,” she says.
“I can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the Ultra Command was conspiring against the Empire Codex to create new Cell Circuits. They exploited what they viewed as a technicality within it where they were continually asking for permission to create new super soldiers, but between the denial and the submission of a new request, they interpreted the lack of denial as approval.”
“Interesting. And clever,” says Honors.
Eurus hands her a datachip.
“This has everything you’ll need to arrest and convict Commander Olman and his bioengineering chief Dr. Mendel.”
Honors flicks through the data on her terminal.
“Indeed. Great work, Eurus,” Honors says.
“There’s another matter. I was made aware of the continuing presence of the Machine Revolt in the periphery of the empire. For this reason, the Cell Codex dictates that the production of new Cell Circuits must be initiated at once. It is also provisioned within the Imperial Codex should such a situation arise. Stemming from this information, I will be taking Cell Boreas, Astraeus, myself and Kalopsia to Terram. Since the Martian launch window has closed by now, we’ll be taking a Cell frigate off world. I hope you approve this launch.”
“I will. This is going to happen soon I wager?” she says.
“Within the next 24 hours we’ll be ready for launch,” says Eurus.
“And Martis? How many Cells will remain?”
“12 in Papülonis, 230 in total on Martis.”
“I see. Where is it on Terram you’ll be going?”
“I haven’t been planetside on Terram for close to 100 years. Can you find out where the progeny of Dr. Vakkar’s bioengineering team or people with similar knowledge might reside?” asks Eurus.
“One second,” says Honors.
She opens her terminal and makes inquiries for a few minutes. She works fast and says:
“I’d suggest London. They have a operational astrodock, with capacity for Cell frigates. They also have a Vakkar Industries headquarters there, I’ll be sure to let them know you’re coming. The Terram governor is a Cell named Notus, of the Caste Tigris. He’ll be expecting you in London as well,” she says.
“What is the general status of Earth?” Eurus asks.
“As you know, great economy, very few wars or skirmishes over the years. Notus has turned Terram into a well oiled machine, very little poverty and squalor and such. The last report I read showed that 89% of Terram is urbanized, only select deserts and tundras remain untouched. Population is hovering around 9 billion,” she says.
“Thank you, War Martial. I’ll let you know when we’re going on board and preparing for launch. Mirra Leone of the Leone crime family might be attending the launch.”
“Oh?” asks the Martial as she raises her brow in surprise, “Why her?”
“She is of significance to me, and I’d like her to be there,” says Eurus.
“Significance…” says Honors, “Haven’t abandoned your Codex I hope, Eurus.”
“You’ll find she resides firmly in the gray area of the Codex if you choose to investigate our relationship. I made a decision based on personal grounds to pursue it. I am certain it won’t negatively affect optimal performance on my behalf,” says Eurus.
“Good. Is that all?”
“Yes,” says Eurus.
“In that case, good luck, Eurus. And godspeed,” says Honors.
“Martial.”
Eurus leaves the Martian HQ.
A few hours later Eurus is in the Cell HQ laboratory, researching various pathogens on Earth that might impede their process. It’s pristine, completely spotless and with zero risk of contamination. A well-equipped and thorough clean room for any scientific endeavor a Cell Circuit might embark on. He finds data from the vast Solar Empire databases which Cell Circuits have automatic access to, which points to a virus with a long incubation period which can cause respiratory arrest. Eurus creates a vaccine that renders its replication to self destruct it.
“A change in the protein chain will ensure a threshold after which the virus will infect only cells already infected by itself. A matter of merely shifting the stopping allele.”
He looks up at the holographic monitor and simulates the progression of the vaccine.
INFECTED CELL COUNT: “200… 1 600… 51 200… 13 107 200… 40 000… 100… SIMULATION COMPLETE. VIRUS FRIENDLY FIRE PROTOCOL HALTED. RESPIRATORY ARREST IMPROBABLE. 37.2 DEGREE FEVER WITHIN EXPECTED SIDE-EFFECTS.”
Another disease is a flesh eating bacteria, usually contracted at birth but only discovered once it’s already too late. This causes the hospitals in certain regions to be overflowing with patients.
“Hmm… this is a clever one,” Eurus mutters, “A mother can be unknowingly a carrier and it might show up on medical examinations.”
He pulls up the holographic screen again.
GNR-1 ACID SUSTAINS INFECTION. ANIMAL CELL VECTORIZATION PRIORITIZED.
“Could it…” Eurus mutters as he looks down the scope of a microscope with a synthesized sample, “Yes… I can give this dog a poison chew toy instead of the bone.”
YEAST FUNGUS MITOCHONDRIAL STRUCTURE ALTERABLE. GNR-1 INTRODUCED. SIMULATING… COMPLETE. BACTERIAL GROWTH VECTOR OVERLOADED. NOTABLE SIDE EFFECT: A SINGLE BOUT OF DIARRHEA.
“Got it. The bacteria will grow itself out of existence.”
“This is a familiar pathogen,” Eurus says.
A tiny bug from a few centuries ago carries a tiny worm which can cause neurological damage and death. It evolved during the Machine Revolt and was dealt with by another Cell.
“It’s certainly evolved though,” mutters Eurus, “Curious that the inoculation didn’t.”
EVOLUTIONARY TREND MAP IDENTIFIED… K-TREES GENERATED… TRAINING SET COMPLETED… TEST SET HOMOLOGATED… TESTING… MUTATION VECTOR ACCOUNTED FOR 1 MILLION VARIANTS WITH 99% ACCURACY FOR EACH STRAIN.
“This ought to keep it busy for a century or two,” says Eurus.
Eurus goes down the list of common but dangerous diseases on Earth. Changing a sequence here, introducing an alkaline agent there, producing a overloading reaction in another place, he renders the diseases cured. This is due to the nature of their mission – whatever the procedure may look like for Kalopsia, it’ll be important that she is in pristine condition to avoid the chances of contamination or fertilization failure.
“Environmental hazards accounted for,” Eurus documents.
He sends his findings back to the institutions who deal with the diseases such that they can create vaccines for Earth’s citizens as well. Some send back messages of gratitude as Eurus saved millions of lives. For him… it was a Tuesday. He sends a message to Mirra:
“Launch likely in 8 hours. Would you like me to send word to Honors?”
He stares at his comm-device’s screen for a few seconds waiting for a response. Nothing.
Eurus then goes to the armory of the Cell HQ. He prepares his armor for Earth and weapons as well. The armory is a clean almost hospital-like procedure room. There are closets and mechanical arms ready to assist their users in any manner necessary. He takes his power blade from its place on the wall, next to dozens of others.
He checks the integrity of the blade’s alloy, running simulations on high intensity situations. He activates the nuclear battery at the hilt, directing heat into it. It begins to glow red then blue as it heats up. Its hilt is still cool to the touch though. Its weight, balance and tactile feel remind him of cutting open the turret of a maglev tank after the Machine Revolt. Humanity turned to normalcy shortly after, not shying away from wars even with the devastation that had just occurred. He runs procedures on Astraues’ and Boreas’ blades as well.
He puts them into the large cylindrical sarcophagi which are used to transport Cell equipment. Impervious to a grenade they guard the weaponry very securely.
He then takes his bull rifle, and disassembles it to bits to see if any of them would need a fresh replacement. None do. Even after hours of destruction at Ultra HQ, only tiny marks of gunpowder embellish the tiny pieces of the gun. He cleans the loading and triggering mechanisms, the rifling is still intact he finds. He holds in his hand essentially an anti-materiel sniper rifle in size, compactable to the dimensions of a brickish laptop. Boreas’ and Astraeus’ weapons are in high readiness as well.
Holstering the gun in the container, he then checks his and his compatriots’ power armors. He stops at the torsal armor, remembering the evening he spent with Mirra. How she contracted his helmet on the stat bike and her soft warm hands on his face and skin. Still no word from her however, which shifts the weight in his chest a little lower. He lets out a quiet and very discreet sigh.
The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He goes through the grenade launcher, shoulder mounted plasma gun, nuclear-powered melting rod, used to cut into Titans back during the Machine Revolt. The jump pack and jump boots are all in working order as well. He loads the equipment into the containers, and checks the inventory in London’s Cell HQ.
Everything is available in London as well, he might as well not bring his own stuff.
“Lack of sufficient redundancy is at the heart of every failure,” he thinks to himself. He murmurs: “No room for that here.”
He gathers Boreas, Astraeus and Kalopsia at one of the Cell HQ briefing rooms. It’s a circular chamber with a conference table in the middle with a holographic screen, morphing to all eyes in the room to not seem skewed. Eurus says:
“Friends,” as he points to the screen, “There is a monumental task ahead of us on Terram. We will be departing to London in 5 hours.”
“London?” Kalopsia says, “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Indeed,” says Eurus, “I’m told and I checked that there is a Vakkar Institution there, lead by none other than a direct descendant of the great scientist, Dr. Georgia Vakkar, his eigth generational direct descendant.”
“Impressive,” says Boreas, “A family business?”
“What’s the situation on the ground?” says Astraeus.
“I’m told it’s stable and prosperous,” says Eurus. He brings up the image of Notus, a Cell.
“This brethren of ours, Notus of Caste Tigris is the governor there and is aware of our imminent arrival,” says Eurus, “He was tasked with governorship shortly after the Machine Revolt and from what I can see he has executed his responsibility well.”
“How many other Cell Circuits are there?” asks Kalopsia.
CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 30.
“THIRTY?” says Boreas.
“That’s a lot,” says Kalopsia.
“To you maybe,” says Astraeus, “But optimal protocol suggests that there should be one cell for every ten million inhabitants of a region. On Martis we have 233.”
He continues: “A quick calculation – Mars has 3 billion inhabitants. We have one Cell for every 12 876 000 citizens. Though we’re slightly under the norm here too, we’d expect 800 Cell Circuits active on Terram if we were to take this as a baseline.”
“Wow,” says Kalopsia, “So where are the rest?”
TERRAM CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 30.
MARTIS CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 233.
TOR CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 755.
GAYA CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 1066.
SKYTHE CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 293.
HERKULA CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 2394
MISC. COLONIES CELL CIRCUIT COUNT: 443
“Wow… 30 seems low indeed,” says Kalopsia, as she leans forward in her chair.
“It’s expectable to have a higher count on border worlds like Herkula but this is a severe oversight,” says Eurus, “As it stands we have no way of figuring out here why it is the case on Earth. We have a little less than 5 hours to spare so say good-bye to your loved ones. Kalopsia, perhaps you’d like to say your farewells to your mother, I’m told Bob Voyage also has been asking for you.”
His communication device to Mirra chimes. He looks at it to see a GPS pin with exact coordinates and a single message:
“EURUS! HELP ME!”
He feels the weight in his chest tighten and sink lower, to his abdomen. He says:
“If there are any more questions, my findings have been forwarded to you. I now have a matter to attend to but I’ll see you at the launch.”
He quickly dons one of the power armors, without the jump packs as assembling them takes time. He puts on the jump boots however together with a bullrifle and a power blade and hops onto his statbike.
Mirra is slipping in and out of consciousness as she intermittently wakes up what feels like the back of a windowless van. Her head feels like a pin pillow full of needles, stabbing and throbbing in aches and pains as the vehicle maneuvers. It’s clear to her she got sedated while having a drink at her favorite bar after Eurus left. She was trying to drink her inbound heartache away. There’s a blank in her recollection and now she’s here in the van. It rocks a little and shakes her in it. She has in her pocket the tiny communication device she got from Eurus and she uses it to send a message. She realizes that the van stops so she attaches a GPS pin onto the message. Hopefully it reaches him because she’s sure she won’t get out of this on her own. She drifts out of consciousness again.
Opening her eyes she sees that she’s in a room that looks like a procedural room in a hospital only it’s way dimly lit and doesn’t look entirely sanitary. Gathering her senses she sees that there are mechanical arms protruding from behind her and the ceiling and she realizes that she’s lying on her lower back in a somewhat sitting position. She tries to stand up but something’s holding down her arms above her head and she feels her legs are spread. Looking down to her horror she realizes she’s been stripped naked and her exposed body is in a very humiliating position. The restraints on her limbs are metal and there seems to be no way for her to jiggle herself free.
Behind her she hears a door open and close and footsteps nearing her. Into her view comes a hunched over figure. He’s tall, at around 2.1 meters she wagers and he’s moving around towards the far end of the room.
“HEY!” she cries out, “What the fuck is this?! Do you know who I am?”
The man lets out a contemptuous chuckle and says:
“Yes, I do, Ms. Leone. I do indeed. I’m…”
She interrupts him: “Then if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me out of here, got it?”
“Ms. Leone… Do not interrupt me! After all, I don’t think it’s unclear to you that you’re in no position to bargain much less threaten.”
“Okay, good sir,” she says, now in a completely mellow and almost seductive tone, “I feel like I could help you out. I can give you anything, any pleasure, wealthy trinket or piece of land you wish and it can be yours.”
“I want to be able to build Cell Circuits. For the good of mankind of course.”
Mirra gulps. She has no idea how she can be of any significance to him.
“Well I know a Cell Circuit, maybe I can introduce you?” she says.
“I know you know him. That’s precisely why you’re here, Ms. Leone. You have in you his seed. I plan on getting it out.”
He flicks on the bright fluorescent light and huddles over to her carrying a tray of electronic and bladed instruments. He’s now in full medical gear – an apron and scrubs. His scarred face is hidden beneath a medical mask.
“Do I need to be awake for this? Just put me under again.”
“Sorry, dear,” says the man, “I sedated you just enough to get you here but anything further and I’ll risk spoiling the sample.”
He takes a circular electric saw from the plate and flicks it on… once, twice to check it works.
“Won’t blood also do that? I’ll do anything… please… stop,” says Mirra.
“The reactions are known and retraceable,” says he as he lowers the sawblade now spinning towards her abdomen.
“STOP! YOU PSYCHO! AAA!!!” she screams as the blade pierces her skin. Blood splatters onto the mask and goggles of the madman. Her stomach feels like it’s being ripped open by a chasmic volcano splitting the earth. The pain is unimaginable.
“Now now! You’ll thank me later, Ms. Leone. All of humanity will in fact,” says the man over the sound of the sawblade and Mirra’s screams.
Eurus is barreling through Papülonis towards his target. The pin is dropped in the middle of the Slum Of Red at a well-known meat market, infamous for its at times less than ideal clientele and products. He’s removed every single safety switch on his Vulcan, it’s nuclear batteries and magnetic levitation spheres are white hot from heat generated from his speed. The velocity on his Vulcan 5 is showing 1300 km/h, creating a sonic boom around him as he high tails towards Mirra. Cell tower is almost direct across the city of Papülonis from where the Slum of Red is and it will take some minutes for him to get there flying above the buildings.
If a child is to look up at that moment and see him, they''d make a wish thinking he is a falling star dashing across the sky. A white streak mankind''s ferocious vengeance splitting the distant lights above Papülonis in half. Below Eurus the city is a grid of nameless coordinates converging at a single starting point – Mirra. Her salvation is paramount to Eurus. His speed is pushing the machine beneath him to its edge, the superheated casings around the battery threatening to split the very atoms powering it. But he knew he had just enough time to complete his dash. And the alternative was not finding Mirra in time which to him was a feeling he''d never felt so acutely before. Despair is new for a Cell but its weight now presses down on his chest.
As the Slum of Red approaches, the communication device on Eurus pings once again. It flashes on the dash of the Vulcan 5 and Eurus sees that it’s now pinging from a location underground as he approaches it. He’s considering his approach… Calculating every step… Meanwhile Mirra is down there without him.
He mumbles: “Fuck it.”
Faint screaming is audible from the far end of the large chamber Kroseph is marching around in. Above him he can hear rumbling sounds loud and rattling his lungs. Thunder? Here? Now? Thinks Kroseph. His comm device chimes, pulling him to reality: “Get rid of her clothes… now!”
In the big concrete chamber there are various containers made of metal used to house chemicals or fuel. There are beakers, bits and pieces of various machinery. It’s basically a dumpster. Clutter all around – too important to be thrown away but useless enough to not be given a shit about.
Kroseph walks into the decontamination chamber, where Mirra’s things are. It’s in the far end of the room from him and he goes there as the rumbling around him gets louder. The decontamination chamber has in it a hose and a couple of wall-mounted makeshift showers, a bench further away for Mirra’s clothes and another bench where she was hosed down while unconscious. There are already a few of his compatriots in there inspecting the clothes, one of them is doing unsavory things to her knickers. “What the hell dude, unprofessional…” he mutters.
“Oh fuck,” says one of the goons.
“What?” says Kroseph.
“Who the fuck was supposed to search her shit?” asks the goon.
“It was Jeremiah wasn’t it?” says the panty-sniffer.
“Well whoever it was didn’t check her items for tiny stuff. It’s a fucking Cell transmitter and it’s homing in on us and a Cell,” he’s holding up a tiny device with a bit for intracranial interface.
“And?”
“And it’s coming right for us!”
“How long do we have?” asks Kroseph and comes closer to check the device.
“We should have a few seconds! He’s directly above us but I don’t get it. The pin shows him spinning around in one spot,” says the goon.
Suddenly the entire room shakes and the goons run out to look at the main base, tripping over themselves and each other trying to grab their rifles and go to their stations. Kroseph says to his panicking goons:
“Just get the…” but he’s cut off by a BOOM. BOOM. GRAAGHHHH!
The ceiling of the room collapses with a loud explosion raining down concrete, steel and bits of molten debris as a Vulcan 5 rockets through into their location. For a brief second they consider where the Cell is, but it emerges a split second later from the hole in the ceiling. It rages out a bone-chilling scream:
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGH!”
And instantly springs towards Kroseph who manages to dive beneath one of the empty fuel tanks tanks. A Cell typically never makes a noise but to hear one crying out in pure unadultered bloodlust is something nobody could even imagine. No man makes a noise like this. It is primal. It is rage. The sounds of the trumpets of Jericho are not dissimilar but to hear what looks like a man scream like this at them while moving at blinding speed… This is not anything short of traumatizing for the rest of their remaining short lives.
Some of them briefly consider running. But before the thought can hit their legs they are already splatter on the wall. Eurus wasn’t even firing a shot or using his blade. He is like a small tornado of limbs and heads ripping and tearing through the security of Dr. Mendel. A cyclone of destruction as the men are shredded almost instantly. Horror grips their guts and their white matter doesn’t even get the chance to engage in fight or flight or play their lives before their eyes as death comes sooner than their synapses can finish firing. A regular Cell is a terrifying opponent in his own right. An unrestrained Cell, focused on pure carnage instead of strategy is Dante’s inferno playing before their eyes.
Gun bots and security droids are hastily deployed but they are of no consequence in this case. The small cramped room would offer an advantage against a regular foe but Eurus is no regular foe and in this case he is no regular Cell. Blinded by fear for Mirra’s life, the feeling distilled into a purely ethanolized state of anger and rage at his opponents. The droids and guns had barely any time to acquire him as a target before a bullet from the bullrifle executes a physical shutdown command. Nothing or no one can stop Eurus at this point. He might as well have been a nuke dropped in the room.
Cages in the tunnels leading to various places from the chamber are filled with roars, as Dr. Mendel remotely disengages the locks on cages holding his biological abominations. The beasts from the depths of OG-1 emerge and converge on Eurus but mindless as they are even they attempt to flee after seeing the first of their kind perish effortlessly at his hands. Before their backs can turn they too are turned into paste and minced meat at the hands of Eurus. No man, beast, bot or anything exhibiting any agency whatsoever is going to leave this place except for him and Mirra. What was supposed to be a mission of delaying Eurus’ arrival on their part turned into a tomb for the men hoping to escape before it was too late. Buried beneath the rubble, scattered to bits or blown and ripped apart, Eurus’ opponents each found their end in mere seconds after setting eyes on him.
In less than two minutes every foe and beast in the room had fallen and a sullen silence falls upon the room. Mirra’s screams heard first by Eurus as he crashed through are now silent. He fears the worst. He leaps forward using his jump-boots and quickly crashes into the room where Mirra is. To his horror, her state is abysmal.
Mirra is lying in the chair, naked, her abdomen and legs hacked apart by Dr. Mendel’s terrifying obsession. She’s covered in blood and she’s shaking from extreme pain. Her guts are placed upon the various plates and surfaces in the room. Eurus walks into the room and around the chair and looks into her eyes, wet from tears brought on by the pain and suffering she went through. She whimpers, but her face is that of relief, and a slight smile is on her lips:
“You came,” she says, with a crackle in her voice due to over-exertion.
Eurus doesn’t speak.
“I’ll admit I’ve been better,” says Mirra, “But I did get to see you before you went on your dumb crusade,” suffering through each of her chuckles.
Eurus can hear a faint scrape behind him and instinctually his hand shoots out and grabs whatever made it. He’d suspected Dr. Mendel is still skulking about.
“Ugh…” says Dr. Mendel, now hanging from Eurus’ hand by his throat. He raises one of his hands to inject him with some serum but Eurus yanks that arm clean off. Dr. Mendel is merely an ant attempting to sting a hurricane.
“AGHHH, FUCK,” says Dr. Mendel, “It seems I’ve underestimated you,” he growls out.
“Just…” says Eurus, “why?”
“Why what?” says Dr. Mendel.
“LOOK AT HER!” booms Eurus. Dr. Mendel’s eyes dart at Mirra and back to Eurus.
“For the good of mankind, Eurus, you know that. You abandoned your duty to be with her, aren’t you grateful I corrected your path?”
Just as Eurus is about to grab his face and squish it in his grip, Dr. Mendel says:
“I’m equipped with a Mind Palace. I can make a perfect copy of her mind,” he pleads, “just don’t kill me yet.” It’s almost as if he’s trying to reason with a tidal wave at this point however.
Eurus crushes his skull like a quail egg.
“I’m sorry, Mirra,” says Eurus as he drops Dr. Mendel’s lifeless body on the ground.
“Why?” says Mirra, “This isn’t your fault. You know mighty as you are, you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”
“I just wanted to carry you, I wanted to have you a part of me,” says Eurus.
“Can’t you give me one of your serums?” Mirra asks. Eurus might be able to help a shattered rib or broken legs but he can’t perform off the cuff miracles. Mirra’s injuries are too severe.
Eurus is silent. There’s nothing he can say to make this any better.
“I see,” says Mirra, “I guess this is it, then?”
Eurus can hear her heartrate grow erratic and diminish in intensity. She’s clearly fading out as the bloodloss crosses critical levels.
“The feeling of fear you had, Eurus,” says Mirra, “Back at the Mind Palace.”
“Yes?”
“It’s called love. And I feel it too. Don’t forget it. I won’t mind being a mind shard for you.” Eurus feels a hard hook in his chest attempting to pull him onto his knees.
“Mirra…” says Eurus meaning to protest.
“I love you…” Mirra says as she closes her eyes. Eurus can hear her cardiac arrest approaching. She’s lost consciousness he wagers to himself. Without a moment to spare, he puts the Mind Palace device on her head and manages to produce the copy of her being onto a data shard. She flatlines.
Eurus looks at the time on his suit. It’s four hours until launch. He guesses he can spare a few minutes more, as he sits down onto one of the stools in the room. His mind is blank, purpose feeling now weightless. Is this what it feels like to love? To lose? Are they one and the same? He ponders for a while.
After a few minutes of silence, he stands up and takes a couple of incendiary grenades from his armor and sets them to explode in a set time in various places of the chambers. This place must be wiped clean from the planet.