“Cameras inside a hospital?” She pulled a face. “That’s twisted.” Her own city had virtually no built-in surveillance — which had come in quite handy back in the day, when she’d made a habit of sneaking around at night.
Aldur turned a bemused expression on her. “You’re not in Lehen now. We’ve more cameras than people. Even underground — it took my mother years to find them all and smash them.”
Kyra watched as he flicked the images once more. “Wait! Is that Tarri?”
“Yup.” He rapped a knuckle on the display, and some of the fuzziness vanished. The room was identical to the previous one, except the bed was occupied by a slender girl. She was unconscious; wires and tubes ran from beneath her blankets up to the auto-surgeon on the roof. In the very edge of shot, the boots of a guard could just be made out.
“She’s okay then?” Kyra hated the note of fear in her voice. “They haven’t tried to move her?”
“Not as far as I can tell. But I only got here a few hours ago. The thing you’re really going to want to see is this.”
The images cycled again, showing the area outside the hospital. On the centre display was a view from above the main entrance. Squad after squad of mirror-helmed shock troops strode up and down, stopping to chat with each other. Another screen showed a different view; a slab-sided vehicle was parked sideways across the street, with a turbolaser turret on top of it.
“They’ve beefed up security,” Aldur said. “And when I say beefed up, I’m talking to insane proportions. Those tanks? They’re on every corner. They’ve got armour thicker than your hand and guns that can punch through a permacrete wall. I started trying to count the troops, but they keep moving; I figure at least a hundred just outside, including on the roof. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but no-one is getting anywhere near that place.”
“What about sneaking in from underneath?”
Aldur shook his head. “Sorry. Most of the newer structures don’t even have a basement. My people are sick of living underground.”
Kyra budged over so Lukas could get a closer look. “What do you think?”
The big man rolled his shoulders with a crackle. “Yeah… looks pretty heavy. The snipers on the roof are the tricky part. It’s not the ones you can see that get you.”
“Tarri’s my biggest concern. These bastards wouldn’t think twice about putting a gun to her head. A decent distraction might let us hack our way in, but hacking our way out with an unconscious kid draped over one of us… that’s tough.”
Aldur was listening to their back and forth with mounting horror. “Are you out of your minds? They’ll cut you to pieces before you get ten steps! We’d need a hundred guys just to get through the front door. I’ve got eight fighters up here with me, and none of them are suicidal. Those soldiers you’re looking at are the most heavily-armed troops in the city. They’re fanatically loyal to the commander. Plus they’re terrified of him, so they’d rather die than disappoint him. You can’t just smash a few windows in the next street and expect them all to run over and look at it!” He waved a hand at the next set of images. “They’ve got tanks, barricades, snipers, and probably air support if they call for it. You might as well take the city.”
Kyra looked at him, as the beginnings of a strategy began to coalesce in her mind. Take the city, eh? Interesting…
It wouldn’t be her first time. And Tris had that bee in his bonnet about leaving all these poor, innocent idiots to the fate they’d somehow conjured up for themselves. The desire for revenge and the urge to protect Tarri were tearing her in two different directions — but what if there was a third way? Something altogether more… audacious?
Because let’s face it, conventional is so last season.
Attacking fortified positions was not her specialty. With Kreon’s help, and maybe Blas, too, she could have pulled it off. Lukas, however skilled, would never be able to fill that gap. And maybe he didn’t need to? It was pretty clear that Tarri couldn’t be moved. Not only would carrying her make it impossible to fight effectively, there was no guarantee that her condition was stable. It would really suck to pull off the rescue of the century, only to have her die straight afterwards because the Resistance couldn’t provide decent medical care.
“Okay,” she said, snapping back to the present. “You say those are the best troops in the city. What other targets are they leaving undefended, by massing their forces outside the hospital?”
Aldur looked thoughtful for a moment. “The barracks, maybe… and the commander’s tower.”
Kyra considered that, picturing what she’d seen when they’d first been brought here. “The tower is literally bristling with guns, and the whole area around it is a kill-zone. The barracks might be an option, though.” She drummed her fingers on the console. “Those eight guys you’ve got. Any of them got contacts in the shock troops?”
Aldur’s expression turned dark. “We all do. One of my best friends as a kid signed up ten years ago. But it won’t help — they cut all ties as soon as they enlist. It’s like they’re brainwashed into becoming murderous bastards.”
Kyra exchanged a glance with Lukas. She wasn’t about to pry into his thoughts, but she could tell he wasn’t a fan of the frontal assault. “Okay. New plan. Send your guys out to meet with whatever local contacts they have. Just regular people, their friends, anyone who’s been feeding them information. I want them to get the word out, as widely as possible, that everyone who’s sick of the way things are being run around here should get ready.”
Aldur rubbed his eyes and turned his chair to face her. He spoke slowly, suspicion in his tone. “Get ready for what?”
She grinned at him. “What else is there? War.”
Without active comms, it took Aldur some time to locate and brief his operatives. Kyra spent that time wisely, figuring out a few missing details in her plan. It was a bold one alright; she actually found herself wishing Tris would get his ass back down here in time to help her out. Alek, too, although it seemed like his nephew had inherited some of his aptitude for hacking. That skill would be vital for the first step, in what was rapidly shaping up to be an armed coup of Laugarren.
Shit, if I pull this off Vinni will go nuts at me. Then again, if she hadn’t been such a damned pushover they might not be in this position. As always, the trouble with Laugarren wasn’t the people themselves, despite their militaristic attitude. It was just that they had shitty taste in rulers.
Aldur slipped back into the room, announcing his arrival with a polite cough. Kyra didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d been following his mind the entire time he was away. He’d delivered her message exactly as requested, which was as much as she could expect from him. Now she just had to hope that Jen had built up some sympathy and support for the Resistance amongst the local population. If the number of people in prison was anything to go by, that seemed quite likely.
It also led sneakily on to the next topic for debate.
“We need manpower,” she said, “and I know just the place to get it.” She levelled a finger at Aldur. “You managed to open our prison cells, right? Can you do that to all of them at once? That would cause a great distraction. And while the guards are busy mopping up the inmates, we’ll storm the prison.”
Aldur stared at her, open-mouthed, for several long seconds. “Well, there are three of us,” he said finally. “Why don’t we just split up? That way we could also storm the commander’s tower and the barracks at the same time.”
Kyra’s heart went out to him. “Awww, you’re being sarcastic!” She patted his cheek. “That’s cute. I keep forgetting, you’ve never seen me fight.”
* * *
They went into the prison the same way they’d come out — though Kyra’s explosion had altered the surrounding substructure quite a bit. They picked their way through narrow mechanical spaces, pausing while she cleared fallen beams and wrecked machinery out of their path with her swords. Some of it was a tight fit for Lukas, but he didn’t compl
ain — even when his suit tore open, leaving a bloody gash down his back and forcing him to go topless.
Actually, he seemed happier that way.
When they reached what was left of the wall they’d escaped through, Kyra made an extra-careful inspection of the surrounding area using the Gift. Robots wouldn’t show up of course, if any more of the damn things were in here; she made a mental note to scan everyone they met, just in case. The last thing she needed was to get jumped from behind by someone she thought she was rescuing.
The bathroom was now just a scorched crater, strewn with chunks of what had once been the facilities. Less than two days had passed since their escape, something which came as quite a surprise when she worked it out. No wonder they haven’t finished the repairs yet. All the guards had managed to do was weld thick steel plates over the doorway, sealing off the bathroom and the labyrinth beyond it as best they could.
Kyra readied her swords for the cut, and gave Aldur a nod. He pulled a battered tablet from his cargo pocket and began tapping away. He looked so much like Alek at that moment that it struck a chord deep inside her. She’d never had the remotest interest in having children, but she suddenly found herself wondering; would they look like me?
She shook that thought away. Now was not the time. And it would never be the time — not while she was dodging laser blasts and chopping bad guys into mulch. As jobs went, it was about as non-conducive to starting a family as she could possibly imagine.
I mean, here I am, starting another coup. What the hell would I do with kids? Hire a babysitter?
She shied away from that thought, too — but for entirely different reasons.
Aldur gave her a shaky thumbs-up, and she sensed his dread at the whirlwind he’d just unleashed. Letting the prisoners out of their cells was morally dubious at best. From what Tris had told her, several of the people they’d tried to free last time had simply refused to go. That meant that all over the prison, there were people who’d actually prefer to stay locked up rather than getting involved with the Resistance. Presumably those people would hide in their cells even with the doors open, though how the guards would treat them was anyone’s guess. At the other end of the scale, those who really wanted out were about to throw themselves at their captors — unarmed, unarmoured, and sure to pay a heavy price for every inch of freedom they gained.
Which was why Kyra’s first stop would be the armoury.
She sensed alarm in the minds of the nearest guards, and a second later the familiar siren wail started up. Showtime!
She tracked the progress of those guards as she sliced a man-sized hole in the steel plates, wincing at the racket as the cut sections crashed to the floor. One of these days I’ll remember to be more careful with that.
She led the way across the wide lobby, where Tris had somehow managed to kick a grenade back up the stairs towards the person who’d thrown it. It was stuff like that that made her think he’d turn out okay — and gave her the confidence to send him off on missions that, quite frankly, she didn’t have a clue how she’d have pulled off herself.
Still, it can’t be that hard. Demolition is the best part of this job! I just hope he doesn’t go overboard… imagine how pissed Vinni will be if the whole Ring gets destroyed.
There was no chance of that happening. Well, almost no chance. After all, it was Tris.
She killed a guard that jumped out ahead of them, one Arranozapar stretching down the corridor to bury its tip in his chest. She was past caring about these people; liberating their city was going to require some serious sacrifice. And I’m way past my quota on this trip.
Issi’s face swam to mind, but her expression was no longer serene. It was judgemental, as though her sister was reaching out from beyond the grave to remind Kyra that these were still her subjects. Bite me, Issi. Look where caring for them got you.
Another pair of guards fell to her flashing blades as they entered the next lobby. Aldur was sickened by the sight of their insides spilling onto the floor, and he put one hand out to the wall, trying not to retch. She felt for him; the handful of skirmishes he’d fought in had all involved trading gunfire with faceless shock troops in the darkened recesses of the underground. Watching her ruthlessly gut regular people, some of whom he might actually recognise, couldn’t have been much fun for him.
Ha! Welcome to my world.
He would have to toughen up, if he was going to become a revolutionary.
Unless that’s not what it’s meant to be like, and I’ve just been doing it wrong my entire life? She pondered that for a second. Nah. Someone would have told me.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The mental chaos ensuing all around them was enough to give Kyra a headache. In every direction, confused and panic-stricken prisoners fled from guards, or fought them armed with the only objects they could find; food trays, stolen utensils, teeth and nails.
She felt the contempt of the guards, mixed with fear; in several places, flashes of genuine regret accompanied those of pain, as combatants on both sides struggled with their own moral dilemmas.
It was much simpler for Kyra… at least, she’d thought it was.
But chopping up Laugarrens was subtly different from chopping up robots, she noticed. Not only was it considerably messier, she had to be at least a little bit angry to do it. She was tapping into a inner reservoir of rage; by itself not a problem, as she had more than enough stored up to last her several lifetimes. The trouble was, now that she’d noticed it, she was finding it hard not to focus on. There was a little voice inside her head, constantly spurring her on towards vengeance, or convincing her that it was their life or hers. But that wasn’t quite true here; she was too skilled an operator for these guys to pose a real threat. And she found that she didn’t hate them; these prison guards were ordinary people, with lives and jobs, albeit ones that sucked. Ending the life of another human being was always a serious matter, and while she considered herself long since inured to the distaste, she was starting to see cracks appearing in her resolve.
Frikkin’ Laugarrens. If anyone deserves to be chopped up, it’s them! What an awfully inconvenient time to have some kind of existential crisis.
To take her mind of it, she stepped casually over the bodies of the guards she’d just killed, and approached the armoury. “I’m starting to like Laugarren,” she said, hoping to win Aldur back to her cause. “It’s not often I get to steal weapons from the same place twice.”
His response wasn’t as enthusiastic as she’d hoped, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. He’ll come around, once he has to start ducking laser blasts again.
Getting in was going to be a whole lot easier this time. She was suddenly very glad that Aldur hadn’t been watching her previous attempt. He might have decided not to rescue me after all. As she sliced through the lock, a new alarm added itself to the general cacophony. She didn’t think it would make a huge amount of difference. Half the guards were already on their way here, and the other half… well, let’s just say it’s not a great day to be in this line of work.
She pulled the door open and stepped into the armoury. It was every bit as well stocked as she remembered, and she got a rush of adrenaline from all the damage she could do with this stuff. Yet again, it was followed by a flash of guilt. Ah, crap. Does that mean I’m more broken now, or less? I knew I shouldn’t have come home. Now Issi’s gone, and instead of avenging her I’m turning back into a frikkin’ pacifist. She sighed, her fingers tracing a series of grenades. Okay. Once we’re done here, I’ll make more of an effort not to kill people unnecessarily. She figured she could live with that; a postponed redemption, purely on a trial basis, to ease this strange stirring of conscience she was having.
But after the job was done. Because innocent or no, the prison guards were still standing between her and Tarri. That alone was sufficient grounds to harm them. Hell, I’ll burn this place to the ground if I need to. And quite possibly just for shits and giggles… But first things first.
The grin he turned on her was more than a little suggestive. “You’re going to give me a massage?”
She crooked a finger, beckoning him. “I’ll do better than that.”
She’d filled two duffel bags with rifles and spare powerpacks by the time he emerged. His precious powered armour had been fully charged and even cleaned during its time in captivity. Servos whined as he walked, and every footstep reverberated around the lobby. He swung left and right, testing the heavy suit’s movement, and pronounced himself satisfied. “Not great for stealth,” he admitted, “but very handy when you need to squash a lot of people in one go.”
“That happens a lot,” Kyra said, slinging one of the bulging bags over her shoulder.
“Not to me it doesn’t,” said Aldur, lifting the other one.
Kyra ignored him. She tossed a short-range transmitter, one of a pair she’d liberated, to Lukas. “Get up to the main entrance,” she told him. “We need to know when the heavies arrive. We won’t have long to prepare, so anything you can do to slow them down will be greatly appreciated.”
He ducked back into the armoury and emerged with a case as tall as she was. “This might do the trick.” He had several other weapons magnetised to various bits of his armour; she had no doubt he could take on a small army by himself dressed like that.
Without another word, he crossed the lobby and headed back the way they’d come. Kyra knew she could trust him to take care of business. It’s refreshing to have a team that actually do what I tell them! Huh. Maybe Tris is right — maybe I should become a Warden.
Embers of Esper: A Sci Fi Adventure (Warden's Legacy Book 1) Page 31