More Than A Gesture

BOOM, BOOM.

The thunderous echoes shook the room, rattling the very foundation and jolting everyone present. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, and the faint vibrations made Sister Lydia stumble as she reached for the nearest wall to steady herself.

"What was that?" someone whispered in panic, their voice barely audible over the fading reverberations.

SABER-1, sitting silently against the wall, slowly rose to his full, towering height. The lavender glow of his visor slit seemed to cut through the dimly lit room as he turned toward the sound, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

"Stay here," he ordered in a tone that left no room for argument.

"But—" Sister Lydia began, her voice trembling.

He raised a massive gauntleted hand to silence her. "Do not follow me. I'll handle it."

Before anyone could protest further, he was already moving toward the door, his heavy boots pounding against the floor in a steady rhythm. BOOM, BOOM. The sound echoed again, louder this time, as if the source was drawing closer.

The civilians in the chamber huddled together, their fearful murmurs filling the silence left in his wake. Sister Lydia clutched her rosary tightly, her lips moving in a whispered prayer.

Outside, SABER-1 emerged into the corridor. The faint glow of emergency lights cast long, flickering shadows across the walls. He activated his helmet's HUD, scanning for any movement or heat signatures. The vibrations were stronger here, the distant sound of grinding metal and guttural shrieks growing nearer.

BOOM, BOOM.

He turned a corner, his MK99 already raised. The rhythmic pounding was now accompanied by faint screeches, a chorus of monstrous voices that sent a chill even through his genetically enhanced spine.

"Extractants," he muttered to himself, adjusting his weapon's settings.

As he approached a reinforced door leading to the outer perimeter, another deafening BOOM echoed, followed by the groaning creak of metal under immense strain. The door buckled slightly, the thick steel denting inward.

Without hesitation, SABER-1 magnetically holstered his weapon and gripped the handle of his chainsword. The motor revved to life with a menacing growl, the blade's teeth glinting as they spun with deadly precision.

The door dented again, this time splitting slightly at the seams. A clawed appendage forced its way through the gap, twisting and wrenching at the metal. SABER-1 planted his feet, readying himself for the inevitable breach.

"Let them come," he growled, the low hum of his armor amplifying his presence.

The door finally gave way with a catastrophic screech, the Extractant forcing its bulk through. It was massive, its insectoid eyes glinting in the dim light, mandibles snapping hungrily. Behind it, more screeches echoed down the hallway as reinforcements scrambled forward.

SABER-1 lunged, his chainsword roaring as it carved through the creature's exposed neck. Black ichor sprayed across the walls as the beast let out a gurgling scream and collapsed in a heap. Another surged forward, only to meet the blunt force of his armored fist, sending it sprawling back into the others.

Behind him, Sister Lydia peeked out from the chamber entrance, unable to heed his warning. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him in action—a relentless force, cutting through the horrors with a precision that seemed almost mechanical. Yet, there was something undeniably human in the way he stood his ground, protecting them all.

BOOM, BOOM. The sound grew more chaotic, the battlefield spilling into the corridor as the Extractants began to swarm. And amidst the chaos, even as SABER-1 at first stood firm, a single unyielding figure against the tide of nightmares.

The dim light of the chamber flickered softly, casting gentle shadows on the cold walls as Sister Lydia sat across from Sister Marianne. The elder nun's hands moved rhythmically as she braided a young girl's hair, her presence radiating calm amidst the faint murmurs of prayer from nearby civilians.

Lydia fidgeted with her rosary, her fingers twisting the beads as her mind raced. Finally, she blurted out, "Sister Marianne, can I… can I ask you something?"

Marianne glanced up, her wise eyes warm with understanding. "Of course, Lydia. What troubles you?"

Lydia hesitated, her lips pressing together before she sighed and leaned forward. "It's… it's a dream I keep having. About him."

Marianne's expression softened, though a flicker of concern crossed her face. "You mean SABER-1."

"Yes," Lydia whispered, clutching the rosary tighter. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I hear the gunfire, the screams, the roar of his weapon. But then, it always ends the same way. He's standing there, surrounded by Extractants, and he's fighting so hard. But… He's fighting, but… He's alone. Completely alone.."

Marianne's expression softened, and she placed a reassuring hand on Lydia's shoulder. "It's natural to feel connected to someone who saved you, Lydia. He did something extraordinary for all of us. Perhaps your dream is your mind trying to make sense of everything he represents."

Lydia shook her head, her grip on the rosary tightening. "It's not just that. There's something more. In the dream, I can feel his pain—not physical pain, but something deeper. It's like he's carrying the weight of the world. 

Marianne paused her braiding, setting the young girl aside with a gentle pat. She reached out and placed a hand over Lydia's, stilling her restless fingers. "Dreams like this can weigh heavily on the heart. Have you spoken to him about it?"

"No," Lydia said quickly, her voice trembling. "I… I can't. He wouldn't understand. Or maybe he would, but… it's like he doesn't think he matters. He calls himself a monster, Sister Marianne. A monster."

Marianne sighed, her gaze thoughtful. "He has carried many burdens, Lydia. His actions speak louder than his words, and yet… even he must feel the weight of what he has done." Marianne took a deep breath, her tone measured and thoughtful. "SABER-1 is a symbol for all of us—a beacon of hope, of strength. We rely on him to be unshakable, to carry the burden of humanity's survival. But symbols… they aren't infallible. Deep down, perhaps your dream is reminding you that even the strongest among us need support. Even he is not invincible."

"But he doesn't ask for support," Lydia said, her voice tinged with frustration. "He doesn't seem to need it. He's… beyond us, beyond human."

Marianne gave her a small, knowing smile. "He's more human than you think, Lydia. I've seen it in his actions, the way he protects without hesitation, the way he lingers to ensure everyone is safe before himself. That's not the mark of a machine or a monster. That's someone who carries a burden far heavier than most of us could bear."

Lydia shook her head, her voice a whisper. "Then why does he isolate himself? Why does he push everyone away?"

Marianne's smile faded slightly as she sighed. "Sometimes, those who bear the greatest weight feel they must carry it alone. They convince themselves it's easier that way, that it's their duty. But duty doesn't erase pain, Lydia. It doesn't make someone immune to the cost of sacrifice."

Lydia looked down at her rosary again, her fingers trembling. "I don't know what to do. I want to help him, to let him know he doesn't have to carry it all alone. But I'm just… me. What could I possibly do for someone like him?"

Marianne leaned forward, her eyes warm and steady. "You already have, Lydia."

Lydia blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You gave him your rosary," Marianne said gently. "A small gesture, but one that meant more than you realize. You showed him that someone cares, that someone prays for him. It may seem like nothing to you, but to someone like SABER-1, it could be everything."

Lydia's lips parted, but no words came out. She felt the weight of Marianne's words sink in, her heart aching with a mix of hope and doubt.

"Keep praying for him, Lydia," Marianne continued. "And don't be afraid to speak to him, to remind him that he doesn't stand alone. Sometimes, it's the smallest acts of kindness that make the biggest difference."

Lydia nodded slowly, her grip on the rosary loosening just a bit. "Thank you, Sister Marianne. I'll try."

Marianne smiled warmly, giving Lydia's hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's all any of us can do, my dear. And remember, even the strongest need someone to believe in them."

The low hum of the Thunderbird's engines filled the air as SABER-1 ascended the ramp, his massive frame casting a long shadow on the metallic surface. He moved with his usual deliberate purpose, his MK99 slung across his back and the faint glow of his visor illuminating his path.

Just as he reached the top, a voice called out. "SABER-1!"

He paused, his helmet tilting slightly before he turned around. A group of figures was rushing toward him—the nuns from Corsair. Sister Marianne led the way, her robes flowing as she approached, followed by the other twelve, their faces a mix of determination and warmth.

Marianne was the first to reach him, slightly winded but resolute. In her hands was a small leather-bound book, its edges worn with use. She held it out to him. "A prayer book," she said softly. "For guidance and protection. It's helped me through many trials. I hope it will do the same for you."

SABER-1 carefully took the book, his massive gauntlets surprisingly delicate as he placed it in the compartment within his chest piece. "Thank you," he rumbled, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity.

The next nun stepped forward, clutching a small carved wooden cross. "This belonged to my brother," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "He... didn't make it. But I believe it will keep you safe."

One by one, the nuns approached him, each presenting a token:

A simple silver pendant.A small vial of holy water.A tiny folded piece of cloth embroidered with a dove.A hand-carved figure of a saint.A bracelet made of braided leather.A polished stone with an etched symbol of peace.A delicate candle, unlit but wrapped securely in protective fabric.A rosary with beads of pale blue.A tiny bell, attached to a string, that jingled faintly.

Each trinket was offered with words of gratitude, blessings, or personal meaning. SABER-1 accepted each one with the same care, placing them alongside the first rosary Sister Lydia had given him.

Finally, Sister Lydia approached, her eyes glistening with emotion. She held out a small white feather, its edges slightly frayed. "It's not much," she said with a shy smile, "but it's from a dove I found outside the cathedral. It reminded me of peace… something I hope you find someday."

SABER-1 looked at her for a long moment before taking the feather and placing it in the compartment with the others.

Sister Marianne stepped forward again, her expression earnest. "Would you allow us to pray for you, one last time before you go?"

He nodded, a single deliberate motion that was answer enough.

The nuns formed a circle around him, their voices rising in unison as they offered prayers for his safety, strength, and success in battle. The words were soft yet powerful, a calming contrast to the chaos he had faced and would face again.

As the prayer concluded, Sister Marianne placed a hand over her heart. "Go with our blessings, SABER-1. And thank you, for everything."

The others echoed her words, bidding him farewell with gentle smiles and nods.

SABER-1 turned and ascended the ramp once more, the door hissing shut behind him.

Icarus, seated in the cockpit, swiveled her chair to face him as he secured himself. "Well, that was new," she remarked with a smirk. "Trinkets this time, huh?"

SABER-1 glanced down at his chest compartment, then back at her. "Why do they do that? This is the fifth time."

Icarus shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "No clue. But I think it's a good thing. You should let them keep doing it."

He didn't respond immediately, his glowing visor reflecting the light of the console. Finally, he muttered, "Perhaps."

Icarus grinned and turned back to the controls, her voice teasing but warm. "See, even the nuns know you're the best chance we've got, Elfy. Maybe you're not as monstrous as you think."

SABER-1 didn't reply, but a faint hum from his armor filled the silence, almost as if he were considering her words.