A/N: It’s kinda a pain to go through and capslock every instance of the word ‘grave.’ Alas. Also, I’m having a devil of a time finding ways to make Isaac’s character less generic, so I apologize if he seems rather flat at the moment. IT VILL BE ZHE FIXED!

GRAVEWIND: The Fall

2

Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

The nerve center was a bizarre, organic construct: its walls were covered with rough scales, and peculiar, mucus-like substance seeped from between the cracks. A distant beat of some kind of monstrous pulse was audible through the walls. Isaac’s seat was put on this gentle incline. Two controls were within his reach, two grips with no other apparatus. He had entered through a flap in the rear of the compartment, was concealed beneath an armored plate at the back of the GRAVE’s head.

“Dresden, can you hear me?” crackled the loudspeaker. Isaac looked around.

“Who’s there?” he offered.

“Good. I am Doctor Vladimir Nevski. I am the leading expert on the GRAVES.”

“Where are you?” queried Isaac.

A pause.

“There is a transmitter in the nerve center. No more pointless questions.”

Isaac fell silent.

“The GRAVE is, for all intents and purposes, lobotomized. The connection between the upper and lower lobes of its brain has been severed. You, a human intellect, will serve as a temporary connection, and exercise control. You will control the GRAVE’s intentions and behavior.”

“I don’t follow,” said Isaac, nervously.

“It is simple. You will control. It will do.”

“Excuse me?”

There was another pause.

A soft female voice replaced Nevski’s. “The Doctor is saying that you simply control the GRAVE’s will and instincts. What GRAVE actually does is up to the GRAVE. Think about it this way: the GRAVE is a dog, and you’re controlling its appetite.”

“Oh. How do I see?”

“You’ll be receiving optic and audio input from the GRAVE’s senses… think of it as a second sight.”

This was getting more disturbing by the second. For a moment, Isaac wanted to bow out. However, when he thought of Awen laying dead, crushed by that… that… monster, he balked. He was not even sure why he was attached to the stranger, and yet he was.

“The target is within range,” said Nevski, coldly. “We are launching you to the surface.”

-

Diana watched impassively, elbows propped on her desk. The ground forces had been butchered in a matter of minutes; the visual feeds showed carnage and death. The tanks and rocket launchers had been destroyed by the bizarre acid bombs, and the air was stained green by a noxious gas that poisoned and quickly killed anyone outside of a CBN suit.

“We have received a notice from the Third Army commander that he is withdrawing his men from the field,” Monlin reported.

“His justification?” inquired Diana.

“Ninety percent casualties,” he said, flatly.

“Fair enough.”

The shot on the big screen shifted to a view of the alien descending from orbit, its orange eye gazing downwards intently. Several fighters arced past it, uselessly beating at it with rockets. One passed too close and was sliced in half by a bladed tentacle. A small panel in the upper right displayed a countdown – two minutes until landfall. Several fighters and bombers targeted the alien with bombs and rockets, to little effect.

“The GRAVE is being launched to the surface,” said Monlin.

The shot panned out to include the yellow California hills in the background, adding a sense of scale to the monster. The alien was gargantuan, dwarfing the land itself.

“The GRAVE has arrived.”

The shot cut away to a scene near the New Los Angeles Military Base. A colossal hatch opened in the center of the facility as an elevator rushed to the surface. On it was the finest weapon ever created by humans: the GRAVE. It towered over most high-rises, and could wield weapons that not even battleships could carry.

A second hatch opened, revealing a GRAVE-scale rifle. The mech reached for it and raised it to its shoulder, aiming for the alien.

“The GRAVE is squeezing the trigger!” yelled one of the bridge lieutenants, excitedly.

Go, sleeper, thought Diana, watching the screen intently. Avenge them.

-

Kill it, ordered Isaac, eyes glazed. He saw what the GRAVE saw: prey in another color spectrum. Kill it. Any human could clearly see the abomination for what it was; an outsider, a nemesis, a predator.

The GRAVE fired.

The shell seemed to move in slow motion. It exited the barrel noiselessly, passed through the air, and hit the alien full in the side. Blood sprayed as the shell shattered the carapace and passed through the soft flesh beneath. An ultra-high-pitch scream sounded from the creature. Isaac’s own ears throbbed at the tone; for a moment, he was back in his human shell; the nerve center was filled with mucus, now, a thick layer over him and everything else. Isaac gasped, and the foul-tasting liquid entered his mouth. He gagged, and felt bile rising in his stomach.

“Isaac!” yelled a voice, over the transmitter. “Isaac, you have to regain connectivity with the GRAVE! Isaac!”

Noise seemed to fill his head, a collection of high-pitch tones that fractured his concentration.

“Isaac! Dammit…” muttered the woman. “Isaac, we’re releasing a gas-based drug into your chamber… it will allow you to reestablish connectivity.”

A sense of peace washed over him. The slime suddenly did not taste so foul. Slowly, he started to link with the GRAVE again, his vision briefly going double between the slimy walls of the nerve center and the blue sky beyond.

Isaac reestablished connectivity just in time for the GRAVE to be struck by an acid blob of the monster. The GRAVE psychicly groaned in pain; Isaac cried out; it felt like his body was being dunked in acid, but he remained connective.

Kill it, ordered Isaac. Kill it. Kill it. KILL IT!

The alien bore down on it; a group of shortly, powerful legs extended from its belly, reaching for the earth. The GRAVE rushed forward, claws extended. It caught the alien as it glided down, keeping it away from the earth. Tentacles rained sharp strikes on the GRAVE, stinging its armor. Isaac felt them, but he clung to connectivity bravely. The transmitter contributed only static.

The GRAVE began to lose ground, its legs digging deep trenches in the ground. It suddenly shifted its arms over the alien’s wound; the crab-thing promptly began to squeal, but Isaac remained connected.

“Kill it!” yelled Isaac, mercilessly. The GRAVE redoubled its efforts, to no avail. It still was driven back, the furrows it left in the earth growing longer.

The crab’s mouth opened. The clawed hand of GRAVE darted into the mouth and closed around a fleshy something. The creature screamed as its acid-producing sac was torn from its throat. The Grave’s hand emerged covered with spittle and blood. The green substance drained from the punctures. The creature weakened noticeably. An eye at the base of it opened.

Pluck it out, thought Isaac. Pluck it out, crush it, kill it.

There was a flash.

-

Diana Dresden got to her feet. The big screen suddenly displayed static.

“What happened?!” she demanded.

“A powerful EM burst!” yelled a bridge officer.

“Going to an orbital feed!” yelled another.

A bird’s-eye-view appeared from orbit, gazing down on the battle. It magnified several times. The GRAVE was raking its claws across the crab, tearing away its armor. Diana remained standing, her chair overturned behind her. Monlin silently picked it up.

The crab was being butchered.

Diana slowly sat down. She reached over and pressed one of the comm. buttons. “Doctor… what happened?”

“Da,” replied the Doctor, tersely. “No time. Don’t bother.” The link was cut. Diana glanced at the comm. menu. She would have to speak with Doctor Nevski about proper etiquette with superiors. Again.

“There’s a powerful thermal buildup within the GRAVE,” reported a bridge lieutenant. “Approaching combustion-”

The GRAVE and its victim burst into flame. Diana stood up again, although not fast enough to overturn her chair. “What just happened?”

“It caught on fire,” Monlin said, bluntly. Blue flames radiated from the GRAVE, though the alien was being burned to ash. The tentacles writhed in agony as their armor turned to nothing; its brown skin turned black, and finally turned to nothing.

The GRAVE was alone. Another brilliant flash blinded the cameras. Diana sat down, slowly.

Silence rang through the bridge.

“There is no sign of the target,” a lieutenant commented. Gradually, the vid feed was restored.

“Revert to Defcon 5. Monlin, deactivate the LICHE system,” said Diana, quietly.

-

The room was dark. Alex’s eyes looked on the shadow without comment. The only source of illumination was a weak light bulb hanging by a chain from the ceiling. A man stepped out the shadows, a tall man with blond hair and a thick beard. His eyes were two empty sockets, looking at nothing but seeing everything… of that much, Alex was certain.

He stood before her, looking down with nothing. It scared her, at first; the empty that could see you doing anything.

“Alex… the time has come for you to leave.” His German accent was almost gone… but not quite.

“I understand, sir,” she replied.

“You are to copilot with the sleeper. However, you may have to await his recovery-”

“I am aware of Dresden’s situation, sir.”

“Herr Muller has already briefed you.” It was not a question.

“Yes, sir.”

He extended his hand and caressed Alex’s cheek. “Remember… Alex… you will stand between the world and the void, as will the sleeper. Do you dare stand sentinel at that abyss?” His hand migrated upward and stroked Alex’s messy black hair.

“I do, sir.” His hand closed around a strand of her hair. Suddenly, he yanked painfully, pulling loose a lock of black hair.

Alex said nothing.

“We have trained you well, I see,” he said. He smiled, revealing yellowed, rotten teeth. Those also used to scare her, but not anymore. “Anything I do to you will be nothing compared to what you already feel.” The man stepped back, half concealed by shadows. “Farewell, Frau Koffman. You are dismissed.” Alex saluted and left.

Outside, it was a cold Berlin night. Snow fell gently; Alex eyed it solemnly as she pulled her trench coat over her shoulders. She turned and looked back at the black brick building she had just left. It was one of many buildings packed into the narrow alley. A light was on in one of the windows; moments later, it went out. Alex strode off.

Homeless folk lined the alley, huddled around cans with fires burning in them. She ignored all of the poor and made her way towards the street. She reached into her pocket and produced an ID, checking she had not left it behind – a silly thought, she reflected; he never would have let her leave it behind.

She got into her car, which was parked neatly on a corner. As she unlocked it, she looked up at the sky. It foretold a storm.

-

Diana had never seen the GRAVE outside of its cage at Base 31, behind several layers of shatterproof glass and reinforced steel. Here, it seemed significantly more impressive, kneeling on scorched ground, steam rising off of its armor as trucks and helicopters sprayed water onto its surface.

Diana leaned in the frame of the entrance to the KAYAK, a large hovercraft that dwarfed most suburban houses. It was parked among an extensive force of military vehicles, forming a large barricade around the silent GRAVE. Diana glanced out the back window of the KAYAK. Beyond the soldiers and police, there was a hoard of reporters, all intently gathering shots of the immense weapon that had just saved all their skins.

Awen and lurked around Diana, eyes searching for assassins.

Diana took the radio hanging at her hip and depressed the transmit button. “Nevski, I don’t want any of these reporters catching his likeness.”

“Yes,” replied Nevski, shortly.

Diana narrowed her eyes, staring at the radio. She really needed to talk to him about propper etiquette. Hooking the radio on her belt, she climbed down from the KAYAK and made her way to Awen, who was standing sentinel around the hovercraft.

“Any news?”

“They got the temperature down to 1500 degrees, ma’am,” replied Awen. “The pilot’s condition is unconfirmed.”

“Hmm.” Diana eyed the GRAVE. He was clearly not dead, as connectivity was still being detected inside.

A lieutenant stepped out of the KAYAK. “Ma’am, there’s a call from a Herr Kafka on the red line.” Diana took one last look at the GRAVE before turning to face it.

-

Herr Kafka’s fingers drummed the table. It was pitch black, but that meant little to him. He held a phone to his ear, patiently waiting for the Commander. Finally, she came on the line.

You, she said, darkly.

Kafka grinned in the darkness. “Such a warm welcome, Frau Dresden! You Americans certainly know how to make one feel… wanted.”

Get to the point, Kafka. Is she on her way?

“She is, as we agreed. The GSA is very happy with this transaction.”

Fine, fine… when is GRAVE-01 going to be completed?

“It is well on its way… most of the problems are… hardware-related, Frau Dresden. GRAVEs are delicate things… every piece of metal is matched by a piece of flesh. If just one is out of balance, it will not function. They are prickly creatures.”

Whatever. Just make it work.

Kafka shifted his head to one side. “So terse, Frau Dresden! How have I earned your displeasure?”

You told me he would be safe in the GRAVE. Tell me, have you turned on the news lately?

“I did not say he would be safe. I said that under the neural coding we wrote, the GRAVE would not harm him… however, the code behind it is truly polymorphic. It shifts with the winds, in a manner of speaking.” He grinned again. “It is also said that the GRAVE mirrors of its user. Tell me, what is it reflecting, Frau Dresden?”

There was a silence. I’m not here to answer your riddles, Kafka.

“Very well, Frau Dresden… but I insist the GSA’s innocence in the matter.”

How much does Blackwood now?

“Ah… why don’t you ask her?”

I see. The phoneline clicked, and a high-pitched tone ensued.

-

“He’s comin’ out, ma’am!” yelled Awen, from outside. Diana emerged from the KAYAK. High above, the armored flap that concealed the back of the GRAVE’s head was being lifted by helicopters, slowly peeled away from the sticky, clinging flesh below.

As soon as it was wide enough to accommodate a human being, a man rappelled down from the helicopter in a heat-resistant suit and rushed into the nerve center. Diana’s hand instinctively tightened around the rail of the hovercraft. A few tense moments passed…

The rescuer emerged, clutching Isaac. They were quickly hoisted into the helicopter and flown off. Diana’s grip released.

“You’re awful concerned about him, ma’am,” mused Awen.

“Yes,” Diana admitted. “He is my own flesh and blood.”

Awen started. “Is it so, ma’am?”

“Surely you didn’t think our surnames are a coincidence?”

“Well… yeh… but… What relation, ma’am?”

Diana smiled. “We were twins – born at the same time from the same womb. At fifteen, when the Cancer invaded his body, he was put into the cryogenics facility, and I remained outside. Now, I’m legally thirty and he’s fifteen.”

Awen gazed up at the GRAVE. “What do we do now, ma’am?”

“Simple. We wait for him to get out the hospital, and he will be transferred to my home.”

“Yer home, ma’am? Are you sure…?”

“The GSA will sign off on it, and no one else need be notified. Simple.”

“The GSA… the GSA… Why do they have so much clout with the big-wigs at London?”

Diana smiled. “There are some things they don’t tell even me, Awen. Trust me - keep your nose out of the GSA’s affairs. Then they won’t stick a bomb in yours.”

-

“…the storm system continues to approach the New York area. Now back to coverage of the mysterious alien assault on Battle Creek, California…”

Isaac stared at the window, where the red Sun was casting a maroon glow into his room. The radio contained to chatter in the hallway outside his room. Occasionally, coughs, moans, and speech would accompany it.

The sound of the door opening. “You have a visitor,” said a nurse, shortly. Isaac looked around and saw a strange woman step in, beside the nurse. She was tall, and had short dark hair, a sharp face, and brown eyes. She smiled at Isaac, pleasantly. She was dressed in an impressive-looking black uniform with a wide variety of insignia on it, and carried a beret at her side, held loosely in her hand.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m ok,” Isaac mumbled. “Umm…” he began, not sure what to say.

The woman approached and took a seat by his bedside. “ ‘Who are you?’ ‘Where am I?’ ‘How did I get here?’ ‘What the hell just happened?’ Is that what you wanted to ask?”

“Something like that.” Isaac looked at the ceiling.

“I’ll try to answer ‘your’ questions in order. I am Diana Wilcox Dresden, Supreme Commander of Division 6 of the Combined Military Taskforce. You are in Nuevo Los Angeles Emergency Hospital, roughly six miles from the GRAVE. You were taken here by helicopter to treat minor burns. And as for what just happened… you were the first human to successfully control a GRAVE in combat.”

Isaac looked up. “The GRAVE! What is it?”

Diana smiled. “You’re quite enthusiastic when you want to be.”

Isaac flushed, slightly, “But… what is it?”

“It’s a weapon, as Doctor Nevski might have informed you. A living weapon.”

“But… how?”

“The details are several levels above my pay grade, but, in essence, the GRAVE consists of a powerful musculature enhanced by mechanical servos and powered armor. In its head unit is a large brain, although much of it is devoted to automating the GRAVE’s vast system of organs. Indeed, it is little more intelligent than a dog, on its own.”

“But… how could it be? It shouldn’t even be able to stand, on its own, much less with all that armor!”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Fancy yourself a biomechanist?”

“Well… no… It’s just…”

“You’re right, by the way. The GRAVE should not be able to stand up, much less dodge about agilely. One more mystery.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not privy to all of the government’s secrets.”

“Oh…” Isaac looked in the sheets.

“You’ll be transferred to my own home, when you’re discharged,” Diana said, changing the subject. “It’s close to headquarters, and-”

“You’re saying I have to get in it again?” Isaac asked, quietly.

There was a silence.

“Possibly. It depends on whether there are more Exoforms.”

“‘Exoforms?’”

“It’s a fancy way to say ‘alien.’ It’s against protocol for a big government girl like me to throw around the a-word. Freaks people out.”

“Huh?” Isaac asked, confused.

“You’re a little disoriented, I see.”

“Umm… Ms. Dresden… Where did I come from, exactly?”

She sighed. “You were recovered from a cryogenics plant in California.”

“How did I get there?”

“You don’t know?”

Isaac shook his head. “I don’t remember much…”

Diana looked out of the window. “Perhaps that’s for the better…”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

She reached over and touched his shoulder, lightly. “Save it for reeducation.”

Isaac looked at her, uncomprehending.

“Once you’re discharged, you’ll start studying at a Special Reeducation School. In essence, you’ve been out of the loop for so long that you need special training to learn how to deal with the modern world.”

“But… it’s only 2008!”

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, Isaac. It’s 2023.”

-

“The nature of the GRAVE shall remain classified at this time,” the President said, solemnly. One of the many amenities of modern airlines, Alex had discovered, was 24 hour news. She watched the feed quietly. The President of the Planetary Defense Council was delivering a speech to the counties who had elected him, valiantly attempting to explain something that, in honesty, was never going to be explained.

“What about its pilot!” yelled another reporter, a member of the slightly boisterous group of journalists assembled at the base of the podium.

“She shall remain anonymous at this time,” replied the President, calmly. Alex smiled at this, slightly. ‘She.’ A clever deception. “The government and Division 6 shall do everything in its power to protect this woman and her family from undue public attention.”

More raucous yelling from the crowd of paparazzi. Alex tuned out the television and pulled her blanket up about her shoulders. The journey over the North Atlantic was chilled despite all of the aerocraft’s machines, and it was in the cold when her wound throbbed the most. Slowly, her hand drifted up to the long scar at her scalp, concealed by her mop of black hair.

For a few moments, Alex listened only to the gentle humming of the jet engines.

Then, the loudspeaker crackled to life. “This is your captain speaking, we are expecting a small amount of turbulence, please brace yourselves.”

Alex glanced up at the loudspeaker. The plane rumbled gently.

Suddenly, thunder cracked deafeningly outside the window, accompanied by a flash of light. The plane shook violently; a few cries from the people the other people in the fuselage.

“We have unexpectedly encountered a severe storm system… we intend temporarily land at JFK airport. We apologize for any inconvenience.” The passengers were palpably nervous.

Alex pulled out her cell phone, hit the speed dial. “Herr Kafka? I have been delayed.”

I see. For what reason?

“There is a highly… unusual storm system in the Atlantic Ocean. My aerocraft is landing prematurely. Could it be-?”

“It means nothing to you, Frau Blackwood. Where are you landing?”

“New York, New York.”

“Hmm. When you arrive, report to the Boston Section 6 Base, and await further orders.”

“Yes, sir.”

-