Gartan roughly rubbed at eyes dry and itchy from sleeplessness and sighed wearily, holding them closed for a moment longer and savouring the momentary relief. With a gasp he jerked himself upright as his head fell forward. He stamped his feet and cleared his throat, activating his radio. “Petriesen, how we looking?” A few seconds of harsh hissing static passed before the security lead replied. “All clear for now”, muttered a voice rasping with obvious equal tiredness. [i]For now…[/i] Gartan nodded absently. “Good, keep me informed” he mumbled. “Of course” came the irritated reply. Gartan looked around him. There were perhaps a dozen people in the large store room, some sleeping, some sitting holding children, some nervously talking to one another. He gestured to a guard standing nearby. “I’m going to do some rounds, keep an eye on things”. “Of course sir”, the guard responded. The facility leader nodded and walked out of the room, one of several such spaces that had been hastily converted to hiding places for the community. “Gartan leaving”, the soldier stated simply into his own radio as the other man left through the large open doorway and walked out into the main Eden area. Gartan took a deep breath, tasting the earthy accents of the air as he walked along a gravel path winding between trees. It was quieter than normal, the animals subdued as if they sensed the unease of the humans around them. There were a handful of guards scattered around the cavern, the most that could be spared from the forces stationed around Eden’s outer perimeters. Each acknowledged him as he passed and Gartan did the same. As he did so he saw the unease and nervousness reflected in their eyes and with their restless movements. If the Fallen broke through to here they would be virtually useless, pebbles of resistance standing against a tidal surge of death. Nevertheless, he had argued and won against Petriesen for having them here. Seeing the soldiers guarding them, standing ready to protect them gave the people sheltering here a sense of security and safety. Taking a branch in the path, the large man walked to an exit door, pulled a card hanging around his neck from under his shirt and pressed it against the black glass panel in the wall. With a slight chime the door unlocked and opened revealing a stark corridor of metal panelling lit by bright white lights. Gartan walked its length to pass through the door at its end and then through several more, each with empty work and living spaces along their lengths. It was uneasily quiet in the space he had left, but here it was utterly silent. He quickened his pace, eager for human contact once again. Finally, he reached the medical centre and smiled tiredly but genuinely at the guard by the door and the men and women he found inside. Alfren jumped up expectedly when the door opened. “Are they here?” he gasped with more than a slight edge of fear in his voice. Gartan shook his head. “I just needed to walk. Petriesen says it’s all clear”. Alfren sighed and sat back down, rubbing his forehead. “It’s the waiting that’s killing me”, he muttered. The handful of people with him nodded and grunted their agreement. They waited for people they knew would fall in a fight they knew they could not win and whilst they desperately hoped that battle would not happen, the inaction was dragging at their nerves. “You got everything you need?” Gartan asked. Alfren looked around the room. Six polished metal tables on small rubber wheels stood in two perfect rows in the centre of the room with a varied collection of machines standing against the walls. Several rooms opened off this main chamber, each with similar tables and machines. They had not been able to bring everything from the new medical facility outside, but they had done their best. The doctor shrugged. “We have everything we had time to get”, he replied. “I hope it’s enough”. Alfren heard the resignation in his voice and looked at the other people in the room and straightened his back. “It will be enough,” he said confidently and forced a smile at the others. “We will be ok”. “It will not be and no, you will not be”. The guard swore as everyone else jumped. He snatched the pistol from his holster to aim at the Guardian that stood in the doorway to the room it had lain motionless in only moments before. A helmet with a single split across its surface for a visor that looked both antiquated and finely crafted at the same time cocked slightly to one side. “Are we really going to try that again?” The guard swallowed nervously but did not lower his weapon. The Guardian looked at Alfren. “You cannot stand against the Fallen. They will crush you”. He turned to look at Gartan. “You command here?” “Ah, well I wouldn’t say command”, Gartan said awkwardly. The Guardian stared at him. “He is the best person to speak to”, Alfren said to break the awkward silence. The Guardian glanced back at him and nodded. He raised his hands to his head. The guard dropped to a crouch, finger tightening on the pistol trigger. “If you shoot me again I’m going to be annoyed” the Guardian growled as he grasped the sides of his helmet and twisted slightly. With a sharp crack the armour disengaged and he lifted it free. Long dark hair pulled back to display a pronounced widow’s peak on his brow and braided into a long tail at the base of his skull dropped over the back of his armour. Eyes of the brightest emerald shined within a face of pronounced cheekbones and pale skin and regarded the people in the room. “The Fallen are relentless. You cannot stop them”, he repeated. “How…” Alfren began nervously and then had to work moisture into his mouth to continue. “How do you know about the Fallen? You have been unconscious”. The Guardian opened his palm and with a flash the small monocular machine appeared in the air above his hand, its lens rotating as it gazed upon him. It span to regard the room. “My Ghost”, the Guardian said simply. “I was…resting. It told me what is happening”. He closed his fist and the machine vanished. “We thought you were dying”, Gartan said. A tight smile split the Guardian’s features. “No time for that right now”. Petriesen dared to stare at the Guardian from out of the corner of his eyes. He towered head and shoulders above the soldiers and even though he remained un-helmed to show his human face, something about him was unsettling and… [i]Alien. Unnatural[/i], he thought. The Guardian turned and stared directly at him, startling him. “You have trapped yourselves”. Petriesen ground his teeth together. The Guardian had made ill-comments of everything he had seen so far and it was grating at him. “We have done what we had to”, he retorted. “We would have revealed ourselves if we stayed outside. At least this way…” The Guardian shook his head. “You think that rock and sealed doors will shelter you? They will destroy you. You do not understand where the Fallen have come from. They were broken, their world destroyed and their race facing annihilation. They refused to die. They defied their fate. The Fallen waged war against destiny and became masters of survival. Scavengers, hunters – the Fallen will never stop until they find what they need and they always find what they need”. The Guardian surveyed the tunnel surrounding them. “The Fallen will find you and then you will truly know them, for they hate. They hate for everything that has happened to them, for what they have had to do to survive and for what they have become”. Everyone stood silent and captive to the Guardian’s words. “You almost sound like you admire them”, Petriesen said softly when he found himself able to speak once more. The Guardian stared at him for a moment. “I wonder if we could have been so strong if we had been in their place”, he said finally. “I wonder how we might have become”. “We are all a product of what has happened to us. We are all forged in the fires of experience and emotion, of success and failure and joy and pain”. The Guardian stared at the people around him, men and women and some barely older than children. “This will be a massacre”. “So what do we do?” The Guardian thought for a moment. “Walk with me”. Confused, Petriesen allowed himself to be guided away from the others to a space in the tunnel where they could not be overheard. “You are a military man yes?” the Guardian asked, his eyes remaining on the soldiers in the tunnel. Petriesen nodded. “Always have been”. The Guardian nodded slowly. “Good. Then you know that you will all die today”. Petriesen’s breath caught in his chest and an icy shiver rippled through him. The shade of overwhelming terror tried to seize him, but he fought against it and slowly he subdued it, forcing it to submission. He could not stop the numbness he felt inside though. He nodded. The Guardian stared hard into his eyes. “Send the others out of here - the families, the elderly and the children. Everyone not able with a weapon. Here they will surely die, outside they may escape. It’s a slim chance, but it’s a chance nevertheless. The best we can do is fight for time and pray for hope. We need to keep the Fallen away from here and give everyone as much time as we can to escape. We need to dictate the manner this battle will be waged, not them”. Petriesen stared at him. “But there are so many of them! There are so few of us compared to them! How can we dare to hope?” Scarred gauntlets replaced the helm. “You have a Guardian”.