New Toronto is a fractured city-arcology on a dying Earth, where hope is as scarce as clean air. For Jason, survival means scavenging the ruins beneath the city â where any day could be his last.
But everything changes when an ancient alien obelisk â the ABADDON BEACON â attacks Jasonâs mind from afar, making his dormant psychic abilities spiral out of control.
After barely surviving Abaddonâs psionic possession attempt, Jason and his companions are left with no choice but to find the obelisk before it consumes him.
Problem is, Abaddon has been sealed within a top-secret United Earth Federation research lab for over a century, silently worming its alien technologies into human society, presented as gifts with a far darker purpose. The Beacon doesnât just speak; it infects, projecting its viral energies far beyond the walls of the lab.
And Jason isnât the only one hearing Abaddonâs call. Across the Solar System, a ruthless Emperor will stop at nothing to seize the Beaconâs power for himself.
As the Imperial invasion of Earth looms, Jasonâs quest to confront Abaddon will force him into a critical choice: master the power growing inside him ... or succumb to the Beacon's godlike influence.
New Toronto is a fractured city-arcology on a dying Earth, where hope is as scarce as clean air. For Jason, survival means scavenging the ruins beneath the city â where any day could be his last.
But everything changes when an ancient alien obelisk â the ABADDON BEACON â attacks Jasonâs mind from afar, making his dormant psychic abilities spiral out of control.
After barely surviving Abaddonâs psionic possession attempt, Jason and his companions are left with no choice but to find the obelisk before it consumes him.
Problem is, Abaddon has been sealed within a top-secret United Earth Federation research lab for over a century, silently worming its alien technologies into human society, presented as gifts with a far darker purpose. The Beacon doesnât just speak; it infects, projecting its viral energies far beyond the walls of the lab.
And Jason isnât the only one hearing Abaddonâs call. Across the Solar System, a ruthless Emperor will stop at nothing to seize the Beaconâs power for himself.
As the Imperial invasion of Earth looms, Jasonâs quest to confront Abaddon will force him into a critical choice: master the power growing inside him ... or succumb to the Beacon's godlike influence.
Earth â New Toronto â United Earth Federation Science Institute
January 23, 2255 â 02:31 Hours
Personal logbook of Dr. Avery Oakfield, UEF Science Minister, PhD.
***** Log E7-006 Begins *****
The worst has happened.
With great regret, I can confirm that multiple test subjects have escaped the labs. From what my people have managed to piece together, the escapees started a chemical fire, using it to cover their exit through the Instituteâs central loading docks. Crews are still putting the blaze out. What a bloody disaster. My field teams are running an initial search of the city for our three escapees. Unfortunately, because of the Councilâs recent sanctions, my reach is limited.
The escape appears to have been led by Abhamancer Program test subjects 107 and 108, who also managed to take Successor Program subject 001 with them, too. Losing the Abhamancers is bad enough, but the loss of 001 will be difficult to explain to Emperor Mariko.
In total, three individuals from two research streams are gone. Without Abhamancer subject 107, the Abaddon Beacon artifact remains uncontrolled, meaning that the Nanophage is still free to spread across the Sol System. Perhaps worst of all, Abaddon appears to have noticed 107âs absence.
The Abaddon obelisk has been acting erratically since the breakout, like it did when Hadrian Mariko left my operation to start his damned empire, and itâs proven more than capable of psionically influencing him far beyond the walls of this Institute. Who knows what kind of damage subject 107 might do if Abaddon turns its influence onto him, as well?
Subject 107 was critical to the Abhamancer Programâs success, an imperative part of preventing the spread of the Nanophage through our technologies. He had the most psychic potential out of all the next-generation subjects, even more than Emperor Mariko himself. His Abhamic powers will continue to grow, without guidance or control. I can only hope that Subject 107 sees sense and returns here for continued treatment before anything catastrophic happens.
But if Abaddon gets to him first, itâs game over for the human species. There arenât enough nuclear weapons in the UEFâs arsenal to halt another planetary-scale Ascension event. The Confederacy exhausted their entire thermonuclear stocks to stop Abaddonâs last attempt at Ascension, and the Earthâs biosphere has only become more toxic as a result.
Subject 107, Iâm sorry for all that Iâve put you through, but you must return here and allow me to finish the Abhamancer Program. Only I can make it work, and only you have the power needed to restrain the Abaddon Beacon, and prevent it from spreading this damned techno-plague to every soul in our star system.
Please, 107 ⌠Jason, come back.
*****End of log*****
1 - A Call From the Void
Eight Years Later
Earth - New Toronto Underground - The Village â October 10, 2263 â 15:40 Hours
âFind us, Jason âŚâ
Jason snapped awake, breathing hard, looking around the room. His head was pounding. He could swear that heâd heard something muttering to him, like a thread of his nightmare had followed him into waking life.
Clammy sweat dripped from his face as he sat up, trying to slow his breathing, blinking away the afterimages of his terrifying dreams. Maybe the whispers had been his imagination.
Then, the strange voices began again, filtering into Jasonâs mind like a cold graveyard mist. Terror clenched his heart as they said, âThe Ascension will soon be at hand, and your participation is required âŚâ
âAscension?â Jason asked. âWhatâwhat does that mean?â
âTime is short. Your presence is critical. Find us, or we will find you âŚâ the ethereal chorus continued.
Jason recognized these voices; heâd been hearing them for years in his dreams, though theyâd always been indistinct, hard to understand. But unlike any other time before, he was hearing them now while he was awakeâand that scared him most of all.
âAbaddon?â Jason breathed.
âWe are your creators, from your beginning to your end. You must find us âŚâ
âShit.â
With trembling fingers, Jason reached behind his neck and gripped an implant attached there âright above a strange spiral sigil, barcode and identifier text âSubject 107â that had both been tattooed onto his skin long ago. He twisted a control knob on the device, allowing drugs from the neural inhibitor implant to flood his system, calming him.
âFind us ⌠before the final sacrifice ⌠the Ascension must commence âŚâ came one last cacophony of whispers, but as the drugs worked their magic on whatever part of his brain was receiving them, the swirling voices of the Abaddon Beacon dissolved into nothingness. He began to breathe more easily, and the tightness in his chest relaxed.
The drugâOsmiumâwas an addictive psychoactive substance, but it was effective at helping Jason sleep through his fitful dreams, plagued by his distant memories of the obelisk in the labs ⌠and far darker visions that he tried his best to forget.
As Jasonâs migraine eased, he swung his legs over the side of the cot heâd been using to nap, glancing around the room. The prefabricated polymer walls were hung with robot parts, cybernetic implants, old vehicle engines, all manner of technologies and machinery from various eras. The area rumbled with the passing of a nearby spacecraft. So did the repair shop and everything within it, as suspended automaton limbs jangled against empty vials that had once contained valuable pink Nanogelâsomething that they desperately needed to refill.
That triggered a questionâwhere were David and Sam?
âJason, we gotta go!â came his brotherâs impatient voice from the direction of the workshopâs double garage doors, open to the street so sunlight could filter inside. Jasonâs gaze snapped up, spotting David by the door.
âOh, shit!â he said.
Jason had been resting up before a salvage job, and as he glanced at the chronometer on the wallâhe was late. Very late.
âYeah, you overslept again, ya dingus. Theyâre all waiting for us,â David said, one hand on the vertical sliding door, the other holding the strap of a large bag of expedition gear. âI let you rest as long as I could, but weâre outta time. Grab your stuff, we have to get going. Samâs already talking to the governor.â
A white, citron-tufted cockatooâBudgieâsquawked down at Jason, perched on the peak of his brotherâs red hair.
âCrap. Alright, Iâm coming, sorry,â Jason said, still a bit breathless as he started scrambling around, looking for his expedition supplies. Budgie clambered down Davidâs clothing with his beak and claws, waddling over to Jason as he bobbed his feathery head in concern.
âDonât apologize to me. Come on, Iâll meet you out here,â David said, ducking out the doors and into the street beyond.
***
With his expedition gear stuffed into a shoulder bag, Jason ducked out through the rusted garage doors of their repair business, topped by a buzzing neon sign that read: âChop Shopâ.
âIâm here, Iâm good!â Jason said, stifling a yawn and scratching his scraggly mop of blonde hair. He hadnât slept well the night before, nor the previous few nights, either. David opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut him off.
âOi, where are you two going?â a bald man called, hurrying down the street toward them. Two twitching robots tottered in his wake, sputtering and sparking.
David groaned. âAs if we didnât have enough on our plate today.â
âHey Vlad,â Jason said, catching one of the manâs meter-tall metal robots as it tripped forward on malfunctioning legs, preventing it from faceplanting on the permacrete ground. The robot burbled random strings of code through its speakers.
âDonât tell me that youâre too busy to take care of these two,â said Vlad, with a warning tone.
âSorry, weâre heading outside the walls for a bit,â Jason replied.
âOutside? My bots are needed in the hydroponics lab, and theyâre at risk of developing the Phage! Please, you must fix them, now!â Vlad said. The elderly man shot a desperate look at David, who had taken off his supply bag to check his gear. He looked up, but shrugged. âWe canât do it right now, Vlad. Governorâs orders.â
Jason twisted the inhibitorâs knob again, letting the Osmium drug calm his nerves. Vlad didnât budge, so he elaborated.
âSorry, Vlad. To fix these guys, we need more spare parts and Nanite gel, and to find all that, we gotta go outside the Village. Like David said, itâs Yamamotoâs call.â
Vlad sighed, massaging his temples. âOkay, alright. If the Governor ordered you out on a salvage run, it must be for good reason.â
He turned his wobbling robots around. Both were non-verbal, but the taller one looked back at Jason, and he could swear that he saw a plea in the botâs single photoreceptor eye.
âBring these guys back here tonight,â Jason said, patting one of them on the head. âDepending on what we find out there, we should have enough new materials and Nanites to patch them up.â
âItâs alright. Make sure these two are your top priority when you return,â Vlad said, clapping his robots on their scuffed plating to keep them moving.
âYou got it,â Jason said, zipping up his frayed jacket.
âYou topped up on Osmium?â David asked.
âYeah. I grabbed plenty of backups, too.â Jason said, shaking his supply bag.
âHearing any spooky eldritch voices?â
âWell, I did hear something after I woke up,â Jason admitted. âThatâs never happened before, not outside my dreams.â
âAre you hearing it now?â David asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jason shook his head. âNo, the Osmium chased it off. Turns out that it works even while Iâm awake.â
âNothing to worry about, then,â David said as he studied Jasonâs implant, tapping the blue drug vial loaded into it. âDo you think youâll be fine if we run into trouble out there?â
âProbably, yeah,â Jason confirmed. âTheyâre dreams, David. Itâs scary stuff, but nothing can find us down here in the underground. Not even Abaddon. Obelisks canât move, right?â
âGot that right. Youâre full for now, but let me know if you run low,â David said, finishing his inspection of the inhibitorâs Osmium vial and clapping his brother on the shoulder. âI have some backups, too, just in case. Donât get blasted on this stuff, please.â
âNo promises,â Jason said.
âArenât you two forgetting someone?â an electronic voice interrupted, booming from the Chop Shop. A fourteen-foot-tall, red-painted humanoid robot ducked under the doors. Talos stretched his massive limbs and piston-driven legs with a rumble of clanking gears and tossed a huge net of burlap salvaging bags over one of his pauldrons, which he must have been searching for in the rear storage room of the Chop Shop.
âWhoops,â said Jason, looking sheepishly up at the giant metal man. âSorry, Talos. We were waiting for you, I swear.â
Talos pointed a massive metal finger at them, eliciting a warning flap and squawk from Budgie, who was once again on Davidâs head. âYou two are always moving so fast. Slow down and enjoy lifeâs smaller pleasures. Your flesh-prisons will wither and die, while I get to deal with the boredom afterward.â
âThanks for the existential dread, bolthead,â David said.
Budgie bravely took off and landed on Talos's finger, locking eyes with the automatonâs photoreceptors in their usual staring contest.
Jason caught the roar of multiple spacecraft over the water, leaving for other Earth-side habitats like theirs or off-world. Among them was a civilian hauler converted into a troopship, bound for the faraway battlefronts of the Solar War, which had been ongoing for several years.
âEnough sightseeing; letâs get over there,â said David, gesturing to the Villageâs twelve-foot east wall gate, several hundred meters away between stacks of prefabricated shanty dwellings rising up on either side of the main street. Several people stood in front of the gate, waiting for themâincluding Sam.
They headed out with Talos bringing up the rear, and Budgie landed on the robotâs gigantic shoulder guard.
The street was bustling with activity. Village residents worked at nearby food stalls and fabrication buildings, and others arranged themselves for afternoon prayers. Work coveralls, jumpsuits, and casual wear flapped from lines strung across the road. Even children above the age of twelve worked non-critical jobs when they werenât in school. Several kids from the nearby playground approached Talos, hanging onto the automatonâs piston-driven legs as he lumbered past. He grumbled and growled at the delighted, screeching children through his vocoder, but that didnât stop them from climbing him like a jungle gym.
Gas-based engine fuel and food smells wafted past Jason, mixing with the familiar stench of livestock and manure from the Village stables, which stood beside the vertical crop-growing structures and hydroponics building. The combination smelled like home, the only one heâd ever known. Artificial sunlight radiated down into their underground sub-level at an angle through the concourseâs support pillars, providing a view of the lake and air traffic outside. The sunâs heat felt good on Jasonâs skin. Most of New Torontoâs vast, cake-like superstructure was above water level, but anything below the habitatâs top-most city surface level was considered to be âundergroundâ.
âThe dome is having more problems today, look,â David said.
Jason looked across the sparkling lake water far below that stretched many kilometers away to the habitatâs outer wall, which projected an atmospheric shield dome that insulated the city arcology from the toxic superstorms raging across the hellscape beyond. The dome also displayed an artificial sun on its inner surface that mimicked the real sun, hidden behind dense clouds outside.
But several sections of the energy dome were flickering, fading in and out of existence. Visible wisps of the radioactive storms beyond the translucent barrier were carried in by fierce winds before the shield segments re-initialized, which then malfunctioned again in a loop. As Jason watched, several repair spacecraft rumbled overhead, aimed at one of the gigantic generators mounted atop the domeâs projection wall.
He pointed them out. âSee? Feds are on it.â
âYeah, but how much fallout are they letting inside before they fix that bloody thing?â David grumbled.
Another massive repair vessel roared right past the Village, barely two hundred meters away. Through its open bay doors, Jason spotted teams of rad-suited workers and industrial robots preparing to work on the wallâs dome generators. Many of them didnât look much older than he was.
But the workers made no indication that they could see any sign of the tiny secret settlement nestled into the cityâs sublevels as their ship roared past. A stealth hologram hid the Village from view through gaps in the open-sided causeway. Holo-generators displayed a vast pile of collapsed rubble to mask their home from outsiders, allowing it to remain secret from the outside, and most importantly, from the Federation at large.
Dusty midsummer winds whipped past the Village wall as Jason and David drew near. Several volunteer troopers were sitting above the gate, monitoring the ancient, automated turret guns, which watched the gloomy area beyond the barrier. Like most militia, they wore a mismatched assortment of fatigues, flak vests, body armor, and improvised plating. Much of their gear dated back more than a century, to the time before the Great War had rendered the planet nearly uninhabitable.
The Villageâs two de-facto leaders were waiting for them: governor Julian Yamamoto and security chief Josiah Mendez, speaking with three of the settlementâs militia guards. Sam stood with them, deep in discussion with Yamamoto. Like David, she was a couple years older than Jason and very fit from their expeditions into the Under-cityâs depths. Her background was mixed, Caucasian and Asian, but Sam had always been tight-lipped about her origins.
Governor Yamamoto was tall, sporting a goatee, greying hair, with rough working hands and dusty work boots. Mendez wore an eyepatch, and held a cane in his gnarled, hairy grip. No one knew who Yamamoto had been before heâd founded the Village many years ago, but he ruled with a stern, fair hand, and heâd brought Mendez in to keep the peace. Most villagers were fine with this arrangement; Yamamotoâs benevolent autocracy was better than the dangers of the UEFâs wartime terror state of surveillance over the city above. He offered a fresh restart on life for a lucky few, one that many gladly took.
Mendez tapped governor Yamamoto on the shoulder as the salvagers arrived, and Yamamoto turned to regard them. âGlad you could finally join us.â
David nudged Jason. âSomeone overslept.â
Sam eyed Jason, but when he shrugged, she gave him a small smile and a wink.
Yamamoto spoke with a slight accent, holding a scuffed data tablet with a large spreadsheet open in its primary window. âI see. Now that youâre all hereâas you probably know, Quartermaster Bilby has asked us to ramp up salvage operations for more spare parts and advanced Nanite tech. We need them for our big list of repairs, including the holo-shield.â
âWeâre aware, Governor. The holo-barrierâs been acting up lately.â Sam replied, scrolling down a list of active repair jobs on her personal tablet, comparing his list to hers. âWeâve got a monster pile of jobs in the Chop Shop and around the Village to complete, but weâre low on basically all supplies that we need for repairs, so itâs been slow-going.â
âWhich is not good,â Yamamoto agreed. "In light of that, Chief Mendez has chosen three of his people for you to train as our secondary salvaging squad. Theyâre all we can spare right now. That crashed spaceship we spotted a few days ago is the perfect target for this exercise. Having additional salvage teams on the roster will give you a break to spend time on repairs. Much needed, by the look of you.â
The governor gestured to the three young militia guards with them, who snapped to attention. âThese are your trainees.â
âSir!â the militia team replied, slightly out of unison.
âHave any of them ever been outside the walls?â David said, looking skeptically at their young recruits.
All three militia looked troubled at this question. Mendez answered for them in a rumbly voice. âNo, they have not. Your job is to make this first excursion a successful one for them. And bring back as many valuables and supplies as possible, of course.â
âI see,â David replied, his eyebrows raising further. To Sam and Jason, he murmured, âBabysitting these three out there will be risky.â
Sam shot him a dark look, but Jason could tell that she didnât disagree.
âI donât want to suggest that these guys donât have what it takes, but wouldnât it make more sense to send more experienced militia out with us?â Sam asked the governor. âThis may be a routine salvage run, but going outside the walls into the wider Under-city is never a picnic, even for us.â
âOrdinarily, yes. But these three are nimble, well-suited for climbing around in the deep ruins like you three do,â replied Yamamoto. âWeâre also understaffed as it is on the walls, and we need our best marksmen here in case of a Phage migration, especially if Talos is going with you. Given that you three are our most experiencedâand onlyâsalvagers, it made the most sense to send these three out with you. Theyâll learn fast.â
âAlright, Governor. Weâll show âem the ropes. But remember, exploring the abandoned under-levels is always a risk,â Sam said, making a conciliatory gesture, and glanced at the militia to impress the point upon them.
Yamamoto nodded and Chief Mendez inclined his head in approval, puffing on a locally-made cigar. Budgie flapped away from the smoke, disgusted. The three recruits also acknowledged Samâs point with timid nods.
âWe know that itâs dangerous out there, more so now than ever with the increases in Phage activity. Weâre also so low on supplies that we donât have a choice but to send you out,â Mendez said.
One of the militias raised a shaking hand.
âYes?â Sam eyed him.
âAre there gonna be, uhhhâŚhostiles out there?â the scared, olive-skinned kid asked, clutching a long-outdated rifle. Jason thought he looked too young to be guarding the Village walls, let alone joining an Under-city salvage run.
"Yes, every part of the Under-city beyond these walls is hazardous," Sam replied to the militiaman. âWeâve seen everything out there; Phage-infected people, robots, dissidents, criminal gangs, mercenary hideouts, and plenty more. Youâve seen the numbers when a Phage migration hits us, so a big part of the job out there is avoiding trouble. But if we encounter anything roboticâand in uninfected conditionâweâll add âem to the salvage tally. Youâre Mayweather, right?â
âYes, maâam,â said Mayweather.
âSamâs fine,â Sam corrected, smiling.
âRight ⌠Sam.â
âYou probably know these other two hooligans alreadyâSantiago and Soohyun,â Mendez said, gesturing to the two remaining recruits. âTheyâre under orders to do whatever you say. Bring âem back in one piece, ya hear? We donât have a big pool of replacements. Behave yourselves, you three!â
âYes, sir!â the militia replied, saluting. Budgie hopped from shoulder to shoulder, harassing everyone. Soohyun reflexively brushed her hair behind one ear and kept stealing glances at Jason, which made him go red in the face.
âWeâll bring them back the same way we found âem,â Sam replied to Mendez, checking the battery of her short, vicious blade slung in a magnetic holster. âWe havenât lost a man out there yet.â
âI wouldnât expect anything less from our best expedition team,â Mendez said.
âKeep an eye on the time while youâre out there,â Yamamoto said. âI donât want anyone outside the walls after dark, especially when the infected are more active down there.â
âSure. They probably wonât come after such a large group though, sir,â Jason pointed out. âThe Phagebearers out there havenât given us much trouble lately, especially with Talos watching our backs.â
âAnd you organic ingrates donât even pay my protection tax,â Talos said. His trio of eye-lenses flashed in aggravation.
âYou donât have a protection tax,â Sam snapped.
âThey donât know that,â the towering robot hissed, jabbing a finger at their recruits.
âWhen are you finally gonna fix his personality matrix?â David whispered under his breath to Sam.
She raised an eyebrow at him. âWho ever said anything about fixing him? Talos is perfect.â
The giant robot leaned over David, casting him into complete shadow. âI heard that, human.â
âAlright, open it up, people! Keep an eye on the perimeter,â Mendez said, signaling to the guards, who moved to the gate controls. Jury-rigged mechanisms came alive, and the sheet-metal slabs scraped open.
âLetâs get you all underway, and be careful. Bring back as many supplies as you can, please. We really need it,â Yamamoto emphasized.
âWill do, governor,â said Sam.
The gently curving causeway tunnel edged into view beyond the gates, lit sporadically by sunlight filtering in between massive support columns on the outer side. Structural collapses had made huge sections of the concourse impassable, blocked by mountains of rubble from above. The Village had been intentionally set up in one of the most stable parts of the cityâs peripheral Under-city rings, but that was changing as the gigantic habitat degraded over time. Talos's photoreceptors narrowed as he deployed a scanner from his upper carapace.
âI detect no threats,â the red automaton said. With a flurry of sliding armor plates, his arm transformed into a brutal-looking plasma cannon. âBut I hope I do.â
The three militiamen froze, glancing at Talos in apprehension.
Sam put a hand on the mighty weapon, making him lower it. âThatâs unnecessary, big guy.â
Despite Samâs assurances, Santiago, Mayweather, and Soohyun gripped their weapons tighter.
Jason gave them an encouraging smile. âAs dangerous as these salvage runs can be, the more stuff we bring back, the more ration cards we get.â
Soohyun blushed as Jason stared into her eyes, before he looked away quickly. âReally?â
David thumped his well-developed pectorals.
âHow do you think I ended up looking like this?â he boasted to the militia. âSalvaging pays well in protein, yâknow.â
Sam rolled her eyes. âYour head is as inflated as your chest, hackerman.â
Jason hesitated as the rest of the group began to move toward the gate, one hand on his forehead. Despite the multiple hits of Osmium coursing through his system, he felt chills run up his spine as his mind returned to his earlier post-dream experience. The Abaddon Beaconâs words remained with him, but there was no cause for alarm. The Osmium was working. Abaddon couldnât get to him through the wall of drugs protecting his mind.
Sam put a hand on his shoulder.
âDonât worry, Jason,â she said with a reassuring tone as David led the militia into the gloom, followed by Talos. âYou sleep alright?â
âNot really. I heard Abaddon, after I woke up from that nap. But the drugs are working. Iâll be okay.â
Sam took a step closer and gave his Osmium drip a quick twist, depositing another small dose into his bloodstream. âGood. Let me know if you run into any trouble with the âol mental state. Iâll keep an eye on you.â
âThanks, Sam.â
***
âAnd there she is,â Sam remarked as the team reached their destination after trekking many levels deeper into the Under-city. âPrime real estate for filthy scavengers like us.â
A destroyed corporate transport spacecraft wobbled in front of the salvagers and Talos, held in midair by a tangle of foot-thick power cables below a gaping hole in the massive chamberâs ceiling. The designation stencil was damaged, but Jason made out the letters âUEF-CT Ganesh of Mesopotamiaâ stamped across the starboard side, hinting at an origin from one of the Southeast Asian habitats. Dappled sunlight played across the shipâs broken hull, trickling down through the cityâs superstructure. The ship had been caught in the thicket of inert cabling after crashing through the arcologyâs superstructure many levels above, tangling as it came to rest down here.
The salvagers stood on a permacrete cliff, with the sausage-shaped transport suspended fifteen meters away over a sheer drop into the cityâs deep ruins, where polluted waves crashed far below. At forty-five meters long, the spacecraft only had two engines left out of six, with no antigravity repulsors remaining. The vessel was a disasterâbut ripe for plundering.
Still panting from their hike, Soohyun gazed at their target and gulped. âWeâre going inside that?â
âYep,â Jason replied. Budgie shrieked.
âScanning. No life signs aboard,â Talos announced. âNo sign of active rad-leaks, either. You vulnerable flesh-sacks are lucky today.â
âDonât jinx us,â David murmured.
The corporate hauler, crumpled like a sad accordion, groaned under its sagging weight. Acrid-smelling fluids dripped from broken ports along the hull. Running lights flickered and exposed sections of the shipâs innards sparked pitifully. Sam pulled on a pair of thick safety gloves. âIâll head inside first, check it out for hazards. Then weâll strip âer down.â
âHow do we know the UEF wonât come looking for this thing?â Santiago asked.
David shook his head. âItâs been weeks since the crash. Yamamoto wouldnât have sent us down here if there was a risk of discovery by the up-worlders. If the corpos havenât bothered with retrieval, the Feds wonât either. Theyâre too busy wasting time on their stupid Solar War.â
âWould you do the honors, Talos?â Sam asked, drawing and pointing her short blade at the ship, which was attached to a reel device on her hip with a long electrical cable.
Talos groaned, retracting his buzzing, steaming plasma cannon. âAll work, no fun.â
The robot fired a gas-powered grappler from the upper-left side of his torso, crunching a cable deep into the shipâs starboard flank. The mechanism locked in place with an audible clunk, so it couldnât be released by accident. Though the transporter was far larger than Talos, he lumbered backward, dragging the suspended vessel closer to the cliffâs edge. When it wouldnât swing further, Talos clamped his giant boots down with gas-powered grounding spikes, cracking the permacrete. âThere. Have at it, peasants. Iâll stand here and do ⌠nothing.â
âCareful, big guy. I donât wanna go spelunking for you if this heap takes a fall,â David warned, peering over the edge. Water lapped against crumbling docks and titanic support pillars sprouting from the waves, hundreds of meters below.
âI have run ten thousand simulations on how to move this vessel without compromising it. Have faith, squishy organic,â Talos scoffed.
âHow do we get inside?â Soohyun asked.
âLike this!â Sam said, pulling on a pair of goggles and a respirator. She leaped off the broken cliff edge, graceful as a cat, hurling her blade at the spacecraft.
Samâs stubby rectangular sword magnetized to the hullâs metal surface with a quivering snap. She swung on the bladeâs attached cable beneath the spacecraftâs ravaged flank, then her hip-mounted reservoir reversed, dragging her upward.
Everyone watched as Sam grabbed her magnetized bladeâs hilt and planted her boots into outcroppings on the hull. Ignoring the crashing swells far below, she attached a safety line from her belt to the shipâs hull with a big carabiner clip. Once secured, Sam held on with her free hand and triggered her phase swordâs secondary mode, snapping it off the hull as the magnetic field switched off. The edges of the blade flared to fiery life, allowing Sam to carve through twelve inches of ablative hull and circuitry like it was a plasma torch.
âThatâs ⌠crazy,â said Santiago, looking to Jason for confirmation, who shrugged. âShe does this stuff a lot. Youâll get used to it.â
âIâll need a change of pants if Iâm going in there!â said Mayweather, watching Sam carve into the ship.
âThen you better have brought âem,â Jason added, grinning. The three militia exchanged glances. David raised an eyebrow.
In a shower of sparks, Sam removed a square of metal from the hull and hollered, âBe right back!â
She pulled out a scanner and crawled inside. Less than a minute later, Jason heard a grinding noise, and a loading ramp fell from the shipâs underside with a loud clang, bridging the gap between the permacrete ledge and the suspended cargo vessel. Sam strolled down the incline toward the waiting group, twirling her sword on its cable as she removed her protective gear. âItâs safe enough in there, more or less. Whoâs first? We have a lot to teach you guysââ
Budgie squawked, taking off and going nuts in the air above their heads.
Moments later, Talos spoke. âAlert.â
The scanner sticking out of his beetle-like rear carapace was beeping as he elaborated. âVermin approaching. I cannot blast them in my current state. Which is an incredible pity.â
Sam tensed, raising her sparking blade while everyone else readied their weapons. âEveryone, protect Talos. Things are about to get a bit choppy.â
Despite the popularity of the quote "war never changes" from the Fallout series, I've always felt like it was a little wrong. War, and the instruments of war, constantly change. It's the people who keep waging them who don't. When scientists start using an alien artifact to accelerate a technological boom, it sadly feels all too realistic that war, both on and off the planet follows fast. Or that disease and pestilence will follow. The psychic abilities that also follow in this story make The Call of Abaddon stand out for me.
Like any good space opera, the cast of characters is huge. From war-hardened heroes to a kid whose panic attacks can go off like a bomb, I was pleasantly surprised how easy it was to keep track of all the named characters. Thoughts, actions, and abilities kept them unique from each other. The author also made an excellent decision to start the reader where we do: focusing on the personal journey of a kid and his friends caught in the crossfire of rapid technological advancement. This functions as an anchor point before the chaos of solar system scale warfare and establishes just how much a threat "the Phage" is. It doesn't hurt that the crew also features a robot I really hope gets voiced by Alan Tudyk if this ever gets adapted to the screen.
Despite enjoying the world built in the novel, the characters living in it, and the layered crises they face, I debated between two ratings because of some issues with the execution. For virtually every rule, there's at least one reason to possibly break them, but dialogue conventions are probably not the best place to test that theory. Though the majority of conversation does follow the norm, more than one speaker per paragraph happens consistently enough to mention. Description outside of fight scenes also sometimes feels a bit lacking.
Hard science fiction isn't an easy genre to make your writing debut in, but author Colin Searle does a pretty great job in The Call of Abaddon. The issues I discussed above aren't enough to detract from this being a fun story driven by powerful characters, and I don't say that just because so many of them have powers. I look forward to book two in the series.