by A. L. Knorr
“Sarge,” a voice hissed through the headset. “We’ve got movement back here.”
“Copy, what are we—”
Stewart’s words were drowned out by the roar of “Contact!” over the line and the sound of gunfire ripping out from the rear-guard.
The survivor screamed, high and frantic as he threw himself down, arms raised over his head.
“He’s back!”
6
Gunfire hammered out a furious staccato tempo, both from the rear-guard and some unseen foe in the chamber beyond. Most of the incoming fire deflected off the vault doors, but enough of the shots came whining through the opening that everyone in the room ducked and scrambled for cover.
Hadlynne hauled me by my shoulder behind an overturned steel table.
“Stay down, mum,” my guardian barked as he dared a peek over the top of the table.
I pushed back the irritation at being directed to stay out of the fight, instead I focused my whole attention on my metallic sense, pushing through the bonded Rings and outward. I could hear Stewart issuing orders over the headset, recalling the point team, I think, but it was just another distraction, so I popped the earpiece out.
When I first heard the call for contact and the survivor’s panicked declaration, I’d been momentarily convinced that possessed Sark or even Ninurta had returned. My body clenched in terrified preparation for a supernatural onslaught, but as the rear-guard traded fire with an unseen enemy, I realised that didn’t seem to be the case. Even if Sark or Ninurta had brought gun-toting cronies, they wouldn’t waste their shots on the vault doors when they could simply rip them open.
No, at least for now, these seemed to all be ordinary men, however well trained, using ordinary weapons of war. Metal weapons of war.
A smile broke over my face.
That smile was quickly paired with sweat because it was a strain from the rear of the chamber to sense anything that far away. Thankfully with so much metal, from combat rifles, ammunition, and body armour, I could drag out a clearer picture of at least six enemy combatants.
I pegged their presence but I needed to get closer.
“I’m moving up,” I shouted to Hadlynne as stray shots zipped around our cover like hellish wasps.
“What?” Hadlynne asked, but I was already in motion.
With an outstretched hand, I drew the steel table up with me as I rose, shaping it into a domed shield with a diameter my full height. Stepping over broken bodies, I moved toward the entrance, wincing a little less each time a shot glanced off the infused steel.
I was halfway to the entrance when Stewart’s voice roared over the chug and chatter of gunfire.
“Bashir, get down, damn your eyes!”
He was crouching in a doorway, nursing a wound in his arm that had soaked his sleeve in blood. His face was pale and drawn with pain, but his expression was a mask of outright rage.
“Trust me,” I shouted back, resuming my advance.
He looked about to give me a profanity-laden piece of his mind, but another shot sparked off his doorway, and I’d already moved too close to the rear-guard to hear him. The thunder of their combat rifles filled my ears, and the flash of their muzzle flares was enough to dazzle in the unsteady light.
I didn’t bother with my typical sense, though, instead drawing my powers up behind my fabricated shield.
The six I’d pegged were the first to see my presence on the battlefield. Gun barrels twisted like snakes to join with trauma plates on chests, rendering their weapons useless while impeding their owners’ movements.
The amount of enemy fire decreased, and I had a few seconds to feel proud of myself. I stretched my metallic senses outward, thinking to handle the next batch of hostiles the same way and realised with a start that the enemy had us vastly outnumbered. The six I’d first latched on to were only part of the vanguard.
We had them bottlenecked here, but even with me assisting, they were about to come pouring into the chamber beyond, and by sheer numbers we’d have a hard time keeping them out. We needed to find an alternative exit, fast, or this would turn into a bloodbath.
“Grenade!” someone screamed.
A trio of silver-grey spheres spun down into our midst.
On instinct, I threw two of them back with my powers, where they’d detonate among the confused enemy. The third bounced off the opening in the vault door and landed between two soldiers.
Slamming into action so hard and fast that my eyes blurred with tears, I inverted my shield and clamped it over the grenade. The explosive went off and would have blown the shield into a cloud of shrapnel if not for my powers bearing down. Instead, the wave’s force rebounded between the floor and the straining particles of the shield. Distantly, the other grenades exploded, but I was barely aware of them as I focused on containing the blast in our midst.
By the time I let go with a gasp, the shield crumbled into glowing slivers of metal.
My head throbbed with the effort and my hands trembled as I looked around at our team. Crouched in protective postures and hidden behind what barriers they could find, but alive. The same could not be said of the attackers. Blinking around, my ears ringing, I saw the evidence of the other explosions from the enemies quarters… blood, smoke, and dust drifting through the churned air. More importantly, no one was shooting at us.
A quick sweep told me that the tunnels beyond were still full of enemies, but it seemed they weren’t keen to rush in.
The grenades had bought us seconds that should not be wasted.
“Step back!” I shouted as I threw both of my hands out to the layers of metal composing the ruined vault door. “Stand clear of the door.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I’d just saved their lives or something in my voice that made them listen, but every member of the rear-guard scuttled backward.
The violence done to the huge door was incredible, something which only Kezsarak could have managed. For all that, though, there was still a lot of metal lying around, and though it wouldn’t be like it was before, I could force enough of it back into shape to seal us off from the front half of the compound.
I threw my powers against the huge twisted spurs and peeling sheets of steel, iron, and titanium. A heavy groan issued from the metal and squeals of protest rose like a shrieking chorus. The sheer quantity of material I was moving made my limbs tremble as I bore down on the cantankerous auras. They gave way one after the other with gathering momentum.
Voices raised, some in alarm, some in awe, but I couldn’t spare the effort to decipher what they were saying. The pressure of the energy I poured into the vault door throbbed through my skull, my teeth grinding so hard I hoped they wouldn’t crack. It was almost there, the pieces being forced into alignment even as I drove spikes of focus, prepping sections to be welded together. A rush of heat stung my skin, and my legs began to buckle. I threw every last ounce of mental energy I could scrape for one last push as I fell onto my knees.
Half a dozen hisses rose and then were snuffed out as a great crash sounded from the door like a resounding gong.
My eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead, but I managed to drag them up enough to see the sealed portal. It was a mashed, Frankensteinian thing and not nearly as sound as it had once been, but it was solid, and the enemy would at least have to take the time to set explosives.
As if in impotent protest, the sharp klink of small arms fire deflected off the sealed door. Shakily, I climbed to my feet.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Stewart advanced on me, his wounded arm dangling a bandage and medical tape. The team medic, a fellow named Ramid, trailed after him, his normally genial features set into a smouldering scowl. He was juggling scissors and bandages from an open medpac.
“I sealed the entrance,” I said dumbly, keeping my eyes from wandering to the rest of the team for support. I’d taken the initiative, I couldn’t ask any of them to defend me.
“
And sealed us in a damned tomb, you stupid bint!” Stewart roared as he reached me, his good arm raised with a clenched fist. I thought he was going to take a swing at me, but Ramid snatched his wounded arm and hauled him backward.
“Bastard!” Stewart bellowed and made an awkward crossbody swipe at Ramid, who hardly had to lean back to let it pass him. For his part, the medic seemed too preoccupied with finishing the bandage on Stewart’s arm to notice the sergeant’s fury.
“Hold still, Sarge,” Ramid instructed in a no-nonsense tone as he set to work. “If we don’t get this patched, you’ll be too busy bleeding out to bawl anyone out.”
A stream of caustic invective was Stewart’s only reply as he held still and let himself be tended to. As the tap of verbal acid trickled off, Stewart squeezed his eyes closed for a second, took a deep breath, and craned his head to look at me. The rest of him started to follow, but a tug and sharp words from Ramid held him in place.
“Ignoring that you’ve trapped us in here without even checking with your superior,” Stewart said through clenched teeth, “do you have a plan to go with your … rash actions, Ms Bashir.”
I couldn't keep from wincing a little at the way he said my name, but I squared my shoulders as I met his frosty glare.
“My ability to sense metal told me that we were about to be overrun,” I began hoping that my voice was pitched loud enough for everyone to hear. “They were in arms and had numbers that would have overrun us very quickly once they mobil—”
“You mean in your completely inexperienced, utterly untrained opinion,” Stewart interjected. “That’s how ya ken this situation. As a civilian.”
“Even a civilian can tell that being outnumbered five to one by an enemy armoured to the teeth is a good way to lose,” I snapped back, appreciating the slightest shift in the stance of the men around me. “And those were just the ones I was aware of in the tunnels. There may have been more beyond them that I couldn’t sense.”
Stewart stared at me for a long moment as Ramid finished his bandaging and then looked at the sealed doorway. The sounds of gunfire ricocheting off had ceased, and only the faintest muffle could be heard from the other side, but the distinct impression of orders being issued and bodies moving was present.
“Alright,” Stewart sighed, head shaking, suddenly looking two decades older. “You’re a big damn hero for buying us minutes, instead of one blaze of glory. We still have no way out.”
“The escape tunnels,” I said and then looked around for the survivor. He stood in front of the far wall, hands splayed across the dark surface. “He can tell us where they lead.”
Stewart looked at the shivering little man and then swung his gaze to Bordeaux, who had led point team back when the shooting started. Bordeaux shook his head once, his expression as flat and unreadable as ever.
“Remember the part where the tunnels are collapsed?” Stewart asked, tired eyes waiting for another disappointing response.
“I can open them,” I promised, ignoring the weak feeling in my limbs from the energy I’d already used. I squared my shoulders and put my hands behind my back in a confident stance. It wouldn’t do any good for the soldiers to see my hands shake.
Stewart looked at the sealed door, then at Bordeaux, who stared back. Stewart finally shook his head and then met my gaze.
“I hope so, lass,” he sighed with a shrug and a wince, putting his hand on his injured arm, a gesture I thought was unconscious. “Otherwise, you just bought us enough time to think about how inevitable our deaths are.”
With that, he raised his voice to address the rest of the security team.
“All right, you lot, we’ve got minutes before they blow that door down.”
As if on cue, a thunderclap sounded on the other side of the door, that left our ears ringing. The portal trembled but didn’t give way. As the ringing subsided, there were more shouted commands and the sound of hurried movement.
“Point’s going to clear out what they can for Ms Bashir while Central does the fastest sweep for intel we’ve ever done. Rear-guard keeps our arses covered.”
“As usual,” someone muttered, and a few forced laughs followed.
“You know your business,” Stewart called out. “Hop to!”
As the soldiers rushed to their duties, I nodded toward the survivor, and with Stewart just behind me, we approached. He didn’t notice us, his face pressed against the thick, tinted material, fingers tracing over two spiderwebbed sections where stray shots had struck.
“Hey,” I said, realising that we’d made it this far without the man’s name. “You never told us your name.”
I was halfway through repeating the question when he began to speak, his voice low and choked.
“I watched him born anew,” he said, eyes fixed ahead as his forehead rested on the darkened glass. “Saw it with my own eyes. Saw it right there.”
My skin rippled up into goose bumps. But though my stomach felt like a cold lump, I moved closer and looked through the shaded wall.
The lights had been fitful throughout the compound, but in that room, through the dark glass, was the steady glow of work lamps shining over a bowl dug into the stone. Within the bowl in concentric rings expanding out from a cavity at the exact centre, jagged crests of metal stabbed upward. It was like a detonation at the centre of a pool of molten metal which had sent up sharp waves, only for the metal to cool and harden at the instant of its violent expulsion. It was a cold, bladed court arrayed around a single point where something momentous happened, now left as an eternal, silent testament.
“What was it like?” I was unable to tear my eyes away.
He drew in a breath that was equal parts pain and longing.
“Like dying,” he whispered. “At first, it was terror, then acceptance as the inevitable stole over me. Then it was freedom.”
He turned, eyes boring into me.
“I was his then. We all were. Even my superior, Herr Niemand, threw himself at his feet. Before his naked feet, we all worshipped. Just as you will soon worship.”
I dragged my eyes from the alien nursery of Ninurta’s rebirth, an argument nearly coming to my tongue until I saw his face. Adoring tears rolled down his cheeks, and for a bare second, I thought they were for the memory he’d shared, but then I saw the way he was looking at me. The emotional display was for me, as he looked at me with rapt attention and wonder.
“You are one of his children.” He smiled and drew his hands from the wall to clasp them in front of him in reverence. “You will help him bring about the new order, the remaking of the world.”
I recoiled, ready to tell him that I’d never be a servant of such evil. But arguing with a brainwashed zealot wouldn’t help anyone and I could feel Stewart growing restless behind me.
“Well I can’t do anything if I am trapped down here,” I retorted. “I think I can open the escape tunnels, but I need to know where they go. Can you tell us?”
His compliant demeanour clouded over with confusion, and he looked from me to Stewart and back.
“Didn’t they provide you with a layout when they sent you on the rescue?”
I froze as a realization struck. He thought we were with the Group of Winterthür. A look of understanding flashed between Stewart and I like lightning. Why had we not realized it before? One wrong word could turn this man from a resource into a liability.
“The briefing was incomplete due to interdepartmental conflict,” Stewart offered, sparing me from having to come up with a fumbling explanation. “Herr Niemand’s branch could not render timely assistance, so we were scrambled from Frau Nichts’ branch, but for security reasons were not given complete layouts upon the contingency that this was a false alarm.”
This seemed to be more than enough for our survivor, as he was nodding before Stewart had even finished. I couldn’t help but be impressed at our leader’s quick thinking and smooth delivery. The Sarge was an impressive liar.
“Of course, of course,” the little man m
uttered. “The tunnels come out along the northern ridgeline above the valley floor. At least I think so.”
I turned to Stewart.
“Can we have the helicopters pick us up there?”
Stewart looked grim.
“We’ll need to get closer to the surface,” he said with a grunt. “And hope that we aren’t out of range.”
---
“Almost there,” I murmured as I shifted more rubble upward with a tongue of metal that had once been a structural girder.
A hand curled into a rictus claw jutted from the splintered rock for an instant before being entombed once more. I’d lost track of the corpses or pieces of corpses I’d seen. The tunnels were nearly choked with civilian operatives and technicians, and as I shoved load after load of pulverised rock, it seemed there was no end to the carnage.
“Almost there,” I grunted again, driving another spike of power through the Rings and out, clearing another short stretch before shuffling forward. My clothes were soaked with perspiration, and even my boots were damp with the stuff. I stood there for a second, my hands on my knees, dragging a breath in before surrendering it with a reluctant wheeze. Not for the first time, I wondered if there was enough air down here to sustain all of us, but dwelling on the thought didn’t make things any easier.
“Bashir, water.”
I looked up in time to catch the canteen tossed my way by Ramid, and without a word, gulped a few mouthfuls.
My camel-hump, a backpack born sack of water complete with a handy straw, had been drained quickly, and now the rest of the team was passing canteens up to me. The stifling air combined with the effort was sucking the moisture out of my body and onto my skin, but thanks to their efforts, I hadn’t collapsed into mummification just yet.
“Almost there,” I gasped and slammed back another big swallow of water before tossing the canteen back and pushing forward.
The tunnel was dark except for the flashlights of the security team, beams strobing forward and backward, but I didn’t need the light. For the moment, my world was reduced to what my metal sense could tell me about the remaining structure of the tunnel and what I could move where. I wormed my way through, the head of a line of soldiers. Strained minutes seemed like hours, as I fear the moment of a call from rear-guard that we’d been found. I’d heard two more explosions, but so far no call of a breach.