Resistance: The Gathering Storm r-1

by William C. Dietz

“This is Echo-Six,” Hale said grimly. “Once we enter the storage complex the Chimera will know we’re here and they’ll come after us with everything they can muster. So before we go after the fuel, let’s do some housecleaning. Every stink you kill will be one less problem to deal with later. I’ll take the towers, while you tidy the grounds. Over.”

  Again two sets of clicks as the Stalkers split up and went to work. Kawecki fired first, using his machine gun to mow down a file of unsuspecting ′brids crossing the open area in front of him. The weapon made a loud rattling noise as tracers sought the aliens and tore them apart.

  Meanwhile Hale turned his machine to face the nearest tower. It was about fifty feet tall. The top consisted of a reflective metal ball which housed two gang-mounted machine guns that could clearly be brought to bear on aerial or ground targets. It was impossible to see the gunner through the chrome surface, but Hale could imagine a Hybrid ensconced in some sort of powered seat, surveying the area. From the ′brid’s perspective, the Stalkers would have been part of the usual scenery, and of little or no interest.

  There was a red reticle on Hale’s heads-up display, and the moment it centered on the top of the tower, he triggered the missile launcher mounted on the left side of the Stalker’s turretlike body. He felt the machine shudder as the weapon took to the air. It paused for a fraction of a second and gave birth to a sub-munition which accelerated toward the target.

  There was a flash of light, followed by a muted explosion as the gun turret took a direct hit. The half-blackened gun-ball swiveled toward the Stalker, but didn’t fire, as if the gunner was trying to figure out what to do. Was it taking friendly fire? Or had the attack been intentional? There was no way the ′brid could be sure.

  The answer came in the form of a second missile, which blew a hole in the gun-ball, and detonated the ammo within. The secondary explosion blew the top of the tower clean off and left a blackened stump in its place.

  Before Hale could enjoy his success, the gunner in the adjacent tower opened fire on his Stalker. Bright green tracers found the machine and converged on it. The Stalker shook madly as Hale sent it crabbing sideways in an effort to escape the incoming fire. Hale knew that if he turned, thereby exposing the back of his machine to the enemy, it would only be a matter of seconds before the incoming slugs tore through the mech’s power core and blew the Stalker apart.

  “I’ll operate the turret,” Barrie said as she flipped a cover out of the way and slapped a switch. Hydraulics whined as the turret containing two auto-cannons extended upward and she released her harness.

  Hale felt conflicting emotions while she climbed up into the turret above. He was supposed to be in command, but it was difficult to pilot the machine and operate all of the weapons, too, so her willingness to act as gunner was welcome.

  Plus it was nice to know that Barrie would fight when the need arose.

  Meanwhile, as he took partial cover behind a pumping station, and Barrie poured cannon shells into the second tower, the other Stalkers prowled the Chimeran base, killing anything that moved. Then, having put dozens of Hybrids down, Kawecki and Yorba went after the gun towers on the other side of the base. Their combined fire proved to be more than any one tower could withstand, and it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of the gun-balls were out of action.

  As Kawecki and Yorba returned to the area in front of the storage facility, Hale and Barrie won their engagement and were rewarded as the top half of tower two broke free and toppled onto a flat one-story structure, thereby crushing it. A cloud of dust rose, quickly followed by smoke when something caught fire.

  “Nice one, Echo-Six,” Kawecki said admiringly. “That was good shooting! Over.”

  “Thanks,” Barrie replied. “And Lieutenant Hale deserves some of the credit, too.”

  The others were too smart to laugh with their microphones turned on, but Hale knew they were, as he brought the Stalker to a stop in front of the target building.

  “This is Six,” Hale said. “It’s time to bail. Don’t forget to bring your gear with you. Place charges on all three machines. Do you read? Over.”

  “Roger,” Yorba replied. “I’m going to need ten minutes. Over.”

  “The clock is running,” Hale answered as he hit the harness release. “Out.”

  One of the reasons Hale had chosen to enter the Chimeran base on the ground rather than by air was the antiaircraft guns located on top of the storage building’s flat roof. But the Stalkers weren’t tall enough to attack the batteries, and the Chimeran guns weren’t set up to fire on ground targets, so a stalemate was in effect.

  The Hybrids stationed on the roof could use their Bullseyes and Augers to fire down on the invaders, however, and they hurried to do so, as Yorba went from Stalker to Stalker placing demolition charges on each machine.

  So the moment Hale’s boots hit the pavement he was forced to take refuge behind a huge crablike leg and return fire with the Marksman rifle. The idea being not only to kill as many Hybrids as possible, but to force the rest of the stinks to keep their heads down, thereby allowing Yorba to complete his task, without enemy fire to stop him. The rest of the team took cover in the building’s entryway, where the Chimera couldn’t see them.

  Not directly anyway, although that didn’t prevent the Hybrids from directing Auger fire down through the intervening structure.

  Hale followed suit and began to pick off Hybrids like targets on a rifle range. They were head shots mostly, each of which was marked by a cloud of blood as the high-velocity projectiles flew straight and true. Soon the Chimera drew back, rather than accept more casualties. That allowed Hale to grab his gear, dash across open ground, and join the others as they completed their preparations.

  Kawecki was armed with an Auger, while Gaines, Pardo, and Barrie carried Bullseyes. The latter had requested two of the small Reaper carbines as well, which she wore pistol-style in specially designed clamp-holsters.

  A choice which, like so many other things having to do with Barrie, left Hale mystified. Were the weapons an affectation? Intended to make her look more dangerous? Or were they the sensible choice for someone who wasn’t very good with a pistol?

  There was no clear answer.

  “The charges are set, sir,” Yorba said, joining the group. He, too, carried an Auger. “They’ll go off when anything larger than a cocker spaniel passes by. So don’t go back for anything! You’ll be sorry if you do.” He had black hair, brown skin, and a round face, and he was eternally cheerful, which was one of the many things Hale liked about him.

  “Good work, Corporal. And thanks for the warning. Okay, let’s get in there, find the fuel core, and get the hell out. Remember, the pick-up point is on the roof, and there’s a whole lot of stinks up there. Corporal Yorba, please feel free to open that door for us.”

  Yorba grinned happily, removed what he liked to refer to as a “door knocker” from the satchel at his side, and slapped a wad of plastic explosives onto one of the double doors.

  “You’d better move back,” he suggested gleefully, and promptly took his own advice. As soon as he reached an appropriate distance, he turned and gestured.

  “Open sesame!” With that, he triggered the charge. There was a sharp bang as the door knocker went off, the right panel sagged, and smoke poured out through the newly created gap.

  That was a sufficient invitation for Gaines, who tossed a grenade into the space beyond, and waited for the resulting explosion. It came quickly, after which he gave the bottom of the door a kick. It fell outward, missing him by a matter of inches and landing with a crash.

  He was the first inside, with Hale right behind him. Both darted to the side to avoid defensive fire, yet there was no resistance. The lighting was dim—so dim that it was impossible to see the ceiling—and what illumination there was came straight from spots located high above.

  The rest joined them in the open area beyond. There were two doorways separated by a twenty-foot-long section of wall. That, ac
cording to the plan agreed to back in Nebraska, was the point when Barrie was supposed to assume overall command. And she was quick to do so.

  “We’re looking for an elevator, stairs, or a ramp,” she announced confidently. “The fuel cores are probably stored in the lowest level. Let’s go through the left-hand entrance and keep our eyes peeled.”

  Hale nodded. “Gaines will take the point, followed by me, Dr. Barrie, Yorba, Pardo, and Kawecki. Be sure to watch our Six, Sergeant… I don’t like surprises.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  Gaines was six foot six. He had a big head, thin, nearly nonexistent lips, and a pugnacious jaw. Like all Sentinels, he was a good shot, and he possessed an almost spooky ability to spot Chimeran ambushes. Some people credited him with exceptional eyesight, others claimed he could smell the malodorous stink they exuded better than anyone else.

  Whatever the reason, he was good at it. And that was all Hale cared about as they proceeded down a corridor flanked by seven-foot-tall transparent tubes. Each cylinder contained a Hybrid. They were hard to see, due to the pearly gas that surrounded them, but judging from a complete lack of activity, they were asleep. Or unconscious. Not that it mattered, so long as they stayed that way.

  “I think they were damaged, and are being reconditioned,” Barrie offered. “Although they could be in storage, too… Especially if this is the equivalent of a warehouse.”

  Hale hadn’t seen anything like the facility before, but didn’t like the feel of the place, which was eerily silent except for the soft whir of pumps. Some of the tubes were empty, but Hale figured that at least fifty of the life-support chambers were occupied, which equated to one hundred stinks, assuming the next aisle over was home to the same number.

  His thoughts were interrupted as Gaines’s voice came through his earplug.

  “I see what looks like an elevator up ahead. Over.”

  Hale saw that Gaines was correct, and more than that, an open platform was descending from above! Four Hybrids became visible as it cleared the ceiling—some of the surviving AA gunners most likely, sent down to intercept the invaders.

  Gaines tagged one of the beasts, sent a burst of projectiles after it, and heard a screech as it went down.

  But that gave the stinks time to begin firing back, and Gaines took a hit, which spun him around and dumped him on the floor. Hale and Yorba opened fire, and thanks to the way the Hybrids were bunched up, they were dispatched in a matter of seconds.

  “Get control of that elevator!” Hale shouted. “We’re going to need it—and I don’t want any more visitors from above.”

  Pardo ran forward to secure the blood-splattered platform as Hale knelt to check on Gaines. The shoulder wound, which would have taken most soldiers out of the fight, had already begun to close.

  “You were lucky,” Hale said as he helped the other Sentinel up. “Duck next time.” Gaines grinned.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay,” Hale said as he waved the rest forward. “We’re going down. Stay sharp. There’s no telling what’s waiting for us on the level below.”

  Dr. Linda Barrie felt slightly nauseous as she followed Kawecki onto the elevator. Firing auto-cannons at a chromed gun-ball was one thing—but wading through a pile of dead bodies was something else. In part because of the throat-clogging smell, which was like that of rotten meat, and worse than anything she had encountered before. Part of it could be explained by the fact that one of the Hybrids had been eviscerated, but the rest of it was due to the Chimera’s typically rank body odor, which brought new meaning to the sobriquet “stink.”

  One of the ′brids gave a convulsive jerk, and was in the process of sitting up when Hale blew its brains out. That was too much for Barrie, who immediately threw up.

  There wasn’t much food in her stomach, so the episode was over quickly. She lifted up her head to discover that Hale’s golden eyes were waiting to meet hers.

  “Sorry about that,” he said sympathetically. “We’ve all been through it. But they aren’t human. Not anymore. Try to remember that.”

  Barrie brought the back of a hand up to wipe the bile off her lips. Was this how Anton felt the day he died? Sick to his stomach, afraid to fail, yet determined to go on?

  Yes, Barrie thought, now I know. Hale was correct. Anton was a brave man.

  Then there was a whirring noise and the elevator began to drop.

  Hale and his men stood with weapons at the ready as the platform dropped down into the level below and came to a smooth stop. Again the light was dim, but when Hale looked out into the room beyond, he could see row after row of sturdy storage units.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “let me guess. You want to go shopping.”

  Barrie was fully recovered by that time. “Yes,” Barrie replied firmly. “I do. The fuel cores could be anywhere.”

  “Roger that,” Hale replied stoically. “Kawecki and Pardo will guard the elevator while the rest of us walk the walk. I’ll be on point, the doctor will fill the two-slot, and Yorba will walk drag. Let’s go.”

  Hale’s rifle wasn’t equipped with a light, not normally anyway, but that deficiency had been corrected by the simple expedient of taping a black flashlight to the barrel. So he slid the switch into the on position, and a blob of white light sprang into existence.

  Barrie slung the Bullseye across her back so her hands were free to use a small video camera. It had a light of its own, and the two sources of illumination enabled them to examine the objects on the shelves. None of the items on display looked familiar to him until Barrie stopped to examine a chunk of machinery.

  Before he could warn her, the insectoid-looking Patrol Drone came to sudden life. All Hale could do was reach out and jerk her backward as the machine fired from inches away. The blast missed, and as the drone wobbled up off the shelf, Gaines put a burst of automatic fire into it. The machine exploded, peppering everyone with tiny bits of shrapnel, all of which stung.

  That was when all hell broke loose.

  Having been “awoken” by the destruction of a fellow machine, more than a dozen drones came to sudden life and darted into the air. They produced an ominous humming sound which seemed to come from every direction at once, and they fired on the intruders. The blackness made them almost impossible to see as Hale, Gaines, and Yorba fired up at them.

  “Take cover!” Hale shouted, launching one of the Marksman’s small semiautonomous drones. “Then we can pick them off.”

  Large cargo modules were stored against the adjacent wall, and offered the only alternatives. So as the rifle-launched drone began to fire on its larger counterparts, thereby drawing them away from the humans, Hale led the team across the open area. There were spaces between some of the containers, and a couple were empty, giving the humans a place to hide.

  “This is Echo-Five,” Kawecki said over the radio. “Do you want us to stay where we are? Or come a-running? Over.”

  “Maintain control of that elevator,” Hale replied as projectiles pinged the modules around him, “but find cover. It won’t be long before they attack you as well. Over.”

  Hale heard two clicks as Kawecki acknowledged the order. Yorba was using the heat-activated reticle to find targets and fire through the module he was hiding in. Striking up a rhythm, he began to destroy the drones with machinelike efficiency. Some of them exploded, strobing the big room with momentary light, while others crashed into storage units, cargo modules, and the floor below.

  Hale managed to bag a couple of Patrol Drones with well-placed shots from the Marksman. Then the battle was over, and an uncanny silence spread through the room.

  Barrie was the first one who crawled out into the open. “Come on,” she said. “I don’t think the cores are stored on this level, but we need to make sure, and the clock is running.”

  Hale gestured, and the team followed her over to the vertical storage units, where the inventory continued. It took about ten minutes to check the rest of the shelves
and confirm what she had predicted. “The fuel cores are located somewhere else,” she announced. “Probably on a lower level. We need to get back on the elevator.”

  Kawecki and Pardo were waiting for them by the time the rest of the group arrived. They gathered together, and Gaines took the controls.

  “Check your weapons,” Hale said grimly, as the platform began to drop. “Because if there are a bunch of stinks on the next level down, they sure as hell know we’re coming.”

  But once again there were no Chimera waiting to shoot at them. The only illumination came from regularly spaced pools of light, and they could see that this room was quite different from the one above.

  The floor consisted of gratings that crisscrossed a large open space. Below them, and located to either side, a maze of large storage chambers could be seen. They were open to each other and filled with what looked like water. Vertical boxes occupied each chamber, some of which were empty, and others of which contained cylindrical objects.

  Above the storage chambers a system of rails could be seen, along with the chain hoists that rode them, and could be positioned anywhere in the room.

  “This is it!” Barrie said excitedly, as the platform came to a stop. “They store the fuel rods in those water-filled chambers in order to keep them cool.” From what Hale could see, it looked as if the rods came in several different sizes.

  Barrie was gone after that, and he had to jog to keep up with the scientist as she hurried out onto one of the walkways. Kawecki and Yorba remained behind to guard the elevator. Gaines and Pardo followed Hale.

  “There!” Barrie proclaimed, as she came to a halt. “See the smaller ones? That’s what we want.”

  Hale followed her pointing finger down to a section of storage silos and saw that roughly half of them were filled with silvery canisters. Each was about the size of a standard oxygen tank. That meant they were larger than he would have liked, and no doubt heavier as well, which explained the need for chain hoists.

  “It’s my guess that the actual fuel rods are about the same diameter as a milk bottle,” Barrie said, “and twice as long. Each canister probably contains three or four of them, all protected by a steel cylinder and at least three inches of shielding. Inside, nestled between them, is some form of neutron absorber. What we need to do is jerk one of them out of there, load it into one of the shipping containers stacked against the far wall, and take it up to the roof.”