by J. N. Chaney
I fired two shots this time, one striking him in the neck and the other in the shoulder. The man flipped off the skidster. His head flailed around, held on by a thin sinew, and then his body slammed into the ground, rifle clattering to the side.
The remaining attackers fell within five more seconds, unable to keep up with the withering assault of the rage-consumed myst miners. The defense, however, had not been without its cost. Two of my team members had been killed in the exchange, taking rounds to the chest and gut. And at least another ten unarmed miners had been gunned down. My heart ached for them. Hadn’t they suffered enough? Though, I supposed death was some form of mercy given all that they’d seen. Still, to be so close to an escape only to die in this exchange was tragic.
I ordered the line forward and instructed everyone to leave the bodies of the fallen. That was hard on them. But mourning for the dead was something that would have to be done in memory—carrying those bodies would only slow us down. Then I ordered those closest to the slain security guards to retrieve the enemies’ weapons.
I tapped my comm and brought the channel back online.
“—is going on out there?” Rachel sounded pissed.
“We killed ‘em,” I said, trying to exude as much calm as I could.
“Did you shut me off, Flint Reed? Don’t you dare tell me you shut me off.”
“I needed to focus.”
She paused. “How bad?”
“Looks like we lost almost fifteen.”
“Dammit,” Rachel said. “You back on the move?”
“We are, yes. And you guys?”
“We’re installing more straps and netting. It’s not gonna be pretty, but it will keep everyone from flying all over the place on launch. Ten more minutes.”
“Lars, how far out are we?” I asked.
“Two minutes, sir.”
“Rach, you’re gonna have to work around the passengers,” I said. Rachel made to protest but I stopped her. “We’re too exposed out here, and I can’t imagine the launch bays are any better.”
She hesitated, then said, “No, they’re not.”
“Then cover in the ships is our best bet. We'll make a defense from the gantries.”
“You’re expecting more?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Rachel didn’t need to think long. “Yup. Okay, send them up when you get here. We’ll do as you say and work around them.”
“Sounds good, Rach.”
The miners hustled up the towers and along the gantries, filing into the massive freight rockets. The bases of two monsters filled most of the twin silos that soared overhead, while the rockets’ top halves protruded beyond the bays and into the blue sky. Several people tripped as they walked, and I had horrible visions of miners tumbling over the railings and meeting their end on the launch floor. After all, the support apparatuses were built for loading raw materials, not human beings. But no one fell despite there being several close calls.
I had barely entered the launch bays when the ground began to shake again. I steadied myself on a maintenance cart and grabbed another weapon-carrying miner who was almost knocked off her feet. This tremor was stronger than the others. It felt a lot closer too.
“I think it’s safe to say that if Ozzie’s forces don’t kill us, the worms sure will,” Rachel said. “I can feel that from in here.”
“Copy that,” I said, noting the grim tone in my own voice. I looked up and surveyed the last stretch of people. “Looks like you got about fifty more for both rockets.”
“Sounds good. We’re almost done.”
“When you are, I want you following Lars’ instructions to get back to the Horizon on the double.”
“Wait, what about you?”
But I couldn’t answer the question. Gunfire broke the calm, echoing through the cavernous launch silos. Several people screamed as bullets danced off the metal trussing that supported the gantries.
“Third level!” someone on my team yelled.
I looked up to see several security guards take cover in the recessed overlooks that ran along the curved walls. “Take ‘em out!” Following my own orders, I aimed at one of several guards who—in their haste to fire on the people loading into the ships—failed to notice me and the defenders below, leaving his side exposed. I fired a round into the man’s right arm, blowing a wide hole out the top of his left shoulder. The man fell away, leaving a blood stain on the ceiling above him.
The security guard beside the dead body looked down and noticed my team. But he didn’t react in time. My next round struck him under the gut, blowing out his back. Instead of falling backward, however, the man leaned over the railing and fell off the balcony. His body slapped the ground with a wet thud, spraying me with a fine mist of bodily fluids.
The rest of the security guards turned from shooting the miners and started aiming at the defenders. I darted for cover, noting the advantage the guards had from their elevated position. It wasn’t enough to hide behind something—we had to hide beneath something as well. Bullets smacked the floor, blowing out chunks of concrete and leaving divots.
I took cover under a metal shelf on the side of a utility vehicle. More bullets pinged off the metallic body, whizzing away in high-pitched squeals. I checked my magazine to see that I only had a few rounds left, so I swapped it out with the only remaining mag on my belt. Then, as soon as there was a break in the barrage of gunfire, I rolled out from under the shelf and took aim at a guard who was also reloading. But unlike me, he failed to take cover when swapping out magazines. Rookie mistake, I thought as I fired. My bullet blew off his right shoulder and sent him to the floor. If he wasn’t dead, he would be shortly.
I had time for one more target, and I chose a guard who was making a run for a better position. I fired three times, unable to track his jerky movements, before the fourth bullet struck him in the hip. He bent sideways, arms flailing. His weapon flew from his hands and clattered over the railing.
I ducked under my shelf once more as bullets rang off the vehicle’s topside. I heard a miner grunt to my left, sliding to the ground after a bullet drove through the top of his head. Another man past him started flailing about as if under attack from a swarm of Fiorian killer bees. He took several swings at the invisible bullets that riddled his body before collapsing on the ground in a bloody mess.
Aggravated, I rolled out, took aim at one of the two remaining guards, and fired. The first one was busy shooting one of my defenders, completely unaware that my MX090 was trained on his head. I squeezed, sending his near-headless body to the ground. The second and final security guard took two rounds to the chest, spinning him once to the left and then back to the right before he careened off the railing and met the ground head-first.
“Clear!” I shouted. “Cease fire!”
The surviving defenders crept out from hiding and surveyed the damage. We’d lost four more miners in the surprise assault. I looked up and saw several bodies lying along the gantries as people wept over the dead. Maybe thirty people had yet to make it into the spacecrafts.
“Everyone up and into the ships!” I ordered. Then over comms, I said, “Lars, please tell me you had no idea those guards were going to appear.”
“You would have been the first to know had I seen them,” replied the AI.
I sighed with silent rage, eager to pay someone back for the losses we’d just suffered. “That’s the right answer, Lars, because you don’t want to know how badly I would have probed you if you’d fallen asleep on the job.”
“I’m more than pleased to avoid such wrath, sir.”
Over the next minute, I watched as the defenders helped the last few passengers on board and then entered the ships themselves. “You’re ready to go,” I said to Rachel. “Now get back to the Horizon ASAP.”
“Will do,” Rachel replied, but there was concern in her voice. I knew what she was going to ask next. “What about you?”
“I’m going to settle accounts with Ozzie,” I sa
id.
“Not without me you’re not.”
“Negative, Rachel. I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”
“You listen here, Flint,” Rachel said, stepping out onto a gantry. She glared down at me. “Don’t you dare—”
“I’ll see you and Monty back on the Horizon,” I said.
“Monty?”
As if on cue, the kid came out to stand beside Rachel. He gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture, saying, “See you soon.”
“Flint!”
24
“You don’t have to do this, Flint,” Rachel said over comms.
“Yeah, I do have to do this.” I was following Lars’s directions toward Ozzie’s upper office. Apparently the man was holed up there, packing up some of his belongings, according to Lars. That news raised several questions, the most obvious of which was whether or not the thug was preparing to leave like we were.
“We can come back for the artifact,” Rachel said. “Let it go.”
“No way.” I poked my head around a corner to make sure the hallway was clear before proceeding. “For one, I have no desire to come back to this place, with or without Ozzie. I’ve seen enough giant worms for a lifetime.”
“But the explosion will most likely drive them away from this pit,” Rachel contended. “Oragga says the artifacts are just about indestructible. So we return, do some scans, and then we’re gone.”
“So, A, I don’t want to be on the same planet as the worms. B, I don’t like digging through rubble—this place has given me a newfound fear of being buried alive. And, C, I don’t like being on the same planet as worms.”
Sir,” Lars said, “you already stated that under point A. Also, turn left ahead and take the stairwell at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks, pal,” I said.
“Sir, please be aware that—”
“I don’t care if you don’t like worms, Flint,” Rachel continued.
I slowed at the turn and looked around the corner. I almost stepped around it, expecting no one to be there, when a security guard spotted me. He brought his weapon up and fired just as I pulled my head back.
“Was that gunfire?” Rachel asked.
“Lars!” I shouted. “Where was my warning?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Fontaine’s communications have seniority over mine.”
“Remind me to have you change that,” I replied.
“Acknowledged. I would like to note, however, that the guard missed and you are still alive.”
“And you need to shut up, Lars!”
“But, sir, you just said—”
“Not now, pal.”
I hunched down and aimed my MX090 around the corner. Since humans were conditioned to look for other humans at head height, one of the easiest ways to get the jump on an assailant was to appear where they least expected—at knee level. I rolled onto my hip and leaned out, weapon leading me. The split second the tactic gained me was enough to sight in on the man’s chest and fire a short three-round burst. Two of three bullets struck their target, pushing the goon back and toppling him to the ground. But his trigger finger tightened, causing his automatic sub-machine gun to fire a string of bullets around the hallway with an extended blaaaat sound. I pulled back as rounds whizzed past me. When the magazine was depleted, the weapon went silent, as did the man’s breathing.
“Flint?” Rachel asked.
“If you keep this up, I’m going to mute the channel again.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Just get back to the Horizon with Monty. Those are the kid’s orders, and you don’t want to let him down after all he’s done for us, do you?”
“You’re using a child?” Rachel sounded incredulous. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“And you should learn to follow orders from your commanding officer,” I said.
“You’re not my commanding officer!”
“Last I checked, I sure as hells am.”
“Flint Reed!”
“Oops,” I said, and tapped my ear. But I could still hear Lars. “I’m at the stairs, buddy.”
“Well done, sir. Ascend five levels,” the AI instructed.
“On it. Stairwell clear?”
“Utterly, sir.”
I started up the two-flight stories, reminded of the last time I did this with Lars. “This is starting to be a thing for us, ain’t it.”
“A thing, sir?”
“A pattern, a tradition, you know.”
“Ah. I was unfamiliar that the word thing could have so many connotations.”
“Well, I guess anything can be a thing if you think about it.”
“Then your insistence that we have a thing together really is not as endearing as your tone makes it out to be.”
“And see? This is another one of our things.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Me trying to explain the nuances of human interaction to you, and you not having the slightest clue what I mean.”
“Resulting in us now having two things to celebrate as habitual points of interest?”
“You got it, pal.”
“I feel like I understand this less than when we began, though I sense you expect me to share in some euphoric feeling of wonder or mutual appreciation. Therefore…” The next thing Lars did was utter a deep laugh over comms that sounded more like a digital hyena’s demonic cackle than an act of human joy.
“You sure know how to ruin a moment, Lars.” I rubbed the outside of my ear canal, hoping the sudden ringing would dissipate soon.
“My apologies, sir. I will try harder not to let you down in the future. Additionally, please note that you are arriving at the first floor’s landing. Once through the door, proceed down the hall. Mr. Oppenheimer’s waiting room and main office is the fifth door on your left.”
“And no thugs?”
“There appear to be no hostile forces on this floor other than Mr. Oppenheimer himself.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
I pushed open the stairwell door and moved down the hallway. Even despite Lars’s assurances, I still moved with my weapon pointed down range, head on a swivel. All it took was for someone to get lucky catching me off guard at a bad angle.
I arrived at the fifth door and rolled to the side, reaching out to activate the motion sensor. The doors were unlocked and slid apart, allowing me to look upon the waiting room where Rachel and I had stood just a few hours before.
“Confirming that he can’t see me,” I stated.
“That is correct, sir. All of Ozzie’s feeds, like the others, maintain looped content without you in view.”
“Just making sure. Thanks.”
“Of course, sir.”
I stepped into the waiting room and immediately heard a commotion coming from the other side of the door. “Where is he positioned in the room?”
“Beside one of the display stands on the right-hand side, halfway along the wall. The sound you just heard was a statue of three female humans engaged in—”
“Kinky stuff. I got it.”
“Correct—landing on the floor.”
“Copy that. Can you open the door for me?”
“At your command, sir.”
I gave myself a meter, brought my MX090 up, and readied myself to aim at where I imagined Ozzie was. “Now.”
The doors parted and I took a step forward. But Ozzie must’ve heard me—no sooner had I sighted him in than he dropped behind several pieces of furniture, blocking my aim. I squeezed anyway, firing bullets into the couch, end tables, and display hutches. Glass exploded and wood chips went flying. I moved fully into the room and sidestepped to the right, rifle still in high ready position, finger on the trigger. I made a quick lunge, expecting to see Ozzie on the ground—but he was gone.
The man popped up on the opposite side of his desk, firing two pistols at me. He alternated shots, forcing me to dive behind two leather seats. Bullets chewed through the furniture. One round pi
erced my abdomen just above my left hip bone. I cursed, but managed to keep moving—the bullet went straight through. Still, it felt as if someone had taken a hot poker and pierced my side, leaving the glowing metal stuck in place.
Bullets struck the space behind me, betraying the fact that Ozzie hadn’t seen me crawl away. I gathered my legs beneath me, waited until he’d expended his magazines, and then rose. I fired three rounds from my MX090, but the pain above my hip caused me to miss as soon as I stood upright.
Ozzie ducked, ejected the spent magazines onto the wooden floor, and dove behind his desk. I guessed he had access to more ammo there. So I tried beating him to it. I charged down the right side of the office and then skidded to a halt when I’d come around the backside of the desk. But I’d been moving too fast and slid further past the desk’s edge than I intended.
Ozzie only managed to reload one pistol—but all it would take was one bullet to end my life. He fired. And I fell—but not from being hit. Instead, the pain in my hip made my leg buckle. The act may have saved my life and I dipped below the deadly paths of the bullets. As I fell, however, I managed to point my rifle at Ozzie—one handed—and squeeze off two rounds.
“You son of bitch!” Ozzie roared, grabbing his right arm with his free hand. He tried bringing his weapon up, but the arm seemed immobilized, at least for the moment. I rolled over, attempting to get another shot off, when I saw Ozzie lunge toward me.
The giant had ditched the remaining pistol and reached his left hand toward my face. He latched on, fingers wrapping around my head, then he began to squeeze. I never knew my cranium could creak, but it did. The cracks sounded like gunshots in my ears, and the pain exceeded the worst migraine I’d ever experienced.
I fought to get my rifle up, but Ozzie had pinned it against my chest with some part of his body. I tried jerking free but his grip was simply too strong—bone crushing was the perfect term. Literally.