Game, Set, Deathmatch

by Edwin H Rydberg

  The Cowgirlz watched in awed silence for some time as the program played out, before it reset and began anew.

  “What do you think,” Figment asked them, “can you do it?”

  “Precisely what is it you want us to do?” DaemonS answered. All he had told them until now was that they were to get some information from Genilon.

  “I thought it was obvious. My employer wants you to infiltrate Genilon, find evidence of collusion with the Bruuz, and gather any info that might indicate what their plot is,” he answered as if speaking to a child.

  “You’ve been suckin’ too much flaknel if you think we can get into there in one piece!” she said, mimicking the disbelief of her teammates. Any fool could see from the holographic model that Genilon Corp. HQ was a fortress. It would be almost impossible for the Cowgirlz to bypass the outer perimeter, nevermind infiltrating the heart of the facility.

  Figment smiled as if he was expecting this response.

  “If you were to try and infiltrate, and death wasn’t an option, how would you do it?”

  “There ain’t no way to get in there alive!” yelled Defcon.

  “Just humor me,” he insisted.

  DaemonS watched the holographic display again for several minutes, looking for any tiny hole in the shield of security. After the tri-vid reset yet again, she shook her head in disbelief.

  “Anyone else have an idea?” she asked the team. Their faces mirrored her own. It was hopeless. Did he expect them to voluntarily commit suicide?

  “There’s no way in and out of there alive,” she told him.

  Somehow, he didn’t seem surprised by her answer. Instead, he placed a second tiny film on the table.

  “Perhaps you’ll change you mind after watching this,” he said.

  “It’s going to take something supernatural to make me volunteer my team for suicide,” DaemonS replied.

  “Then start thanking your favorite deity because this is straight from the divine.” Figment scooped up the first film, causing the tricast to disappear, and inserted the second. He activated the device with a touch of the same unseen button and stood back as the program ran.

  While DaemonS watched, she became more and more amazed, shaking her head in disbelief throughout the entire second half of the presentation. It wasn’t possible. The technology must be a decade ahead of anyone else.

  As the program ended, Figment deactivated the film and adhered it to his thumbnail. It blended perfectly and invisibly. “So, what do you think now?”

  “That was incredible. If it’s true....”

  “It is, I assure you.”

  “If it’s true — and we’ll need to see it with our own eyes first — then it changes everything. But I still don’t understand... how... what... invulnerable? Portable?”

  “I understand your reaction. I didn’t believe it the first time I saw the video either. Halandri has learned a lot hosting the Death Match for the last five years, enough to build the cloning facility you just saw. It’s portable, yes, but not completely invulnerable. They managed to utilize some Okijuza technology, probably acquired through their Global Earth collaborations. The shielding can be breached by several direct ion cannon blasts, so you shouldn’t get careless,” Figment explained.

  “Of course, if Genilon didn’t use the EMB you wouldn’t need this facility. A moot point, however, since an EMB is a must for any secure facility. Halandri also has some help for you here; high-intensity, short-range beacons. They’ll cut through the blanket as long as the detector is close enough to pick up the signal, allowing you to secure an area and establish a beachhead before moving on. They will also draw Genilon attention, so use them sparingly.”

  The level of tech was completely overwhelming. She looked to the other Cowgirlz and saw the excitement in their eyes. It was the ultimate challenge.

  “Put up the first tri-vid again,” she told Figment, “we have an assault to plan.”

  12

  Genilon corp. headquarters sprawled away into the distance as the team hovered just out of anti-aircraft range in a cloaked Falcon. Spanning more than eight hundred hectares, the facility stretched along the coast, hugging the ocean-side crags. Covered bridges of glass and steel reached across white-capped waters to an artificial island, and large spheres suspended from a network of metallic threads filled the air over the channel. The spheres bobbed, moving slowly up and down, like a string of tripwire grenades swaying in the wind.

  On land, a tall, thick wall stretched away as far as they could see. Figment assured them it surrounded the entire facility. Every five-hundred meters or so there was a guard tower. Conversely, the artificial island had no wall, but was bristling with weapon turrets.

  “That’s our destination, Cowgirlz,” DaemonS said, pointing to one cylindrical tower that protruded from a white glob of buildings on the island. The others gave only low whistles in response.

  “Looks meaner in person, doesn’t it?” DaemonS said.

  “Much,” came the reply from Defcon.

  “You know the plan,” she said, restating it more for her own peace of mind than any need to remind them. “We walk in the front door, after Pincer and Defcon take down the pair of security panels, and sweep a path through the land-side installation, locking down the corridors behind us using the biohazard alarms to slow pursuit. Then we make our way topside, crossing the death balls. Our objective is the island.”

  “And the clone tanks? Where’s the truck going to be again?” Pincer asked, studying the sprawl of buildings from the air.

  “The clone wagon’s got to stay hidden,” Figment said, over the communicator. He was clearly struggling, and failing, to keep the frustration from his voice. They’d asked him so many times that he’d probably start having nightmares about it soon. But they were the ones risking life and limb while he was monitoring from some distant safe house. They had a right to make sure of everything before going in. “You have to plant a camo-target after securing each sector; it’s strong enough to cut through the EM blanket, but has a very limited range. They’ll daisy-chain so their signal can will still reach the truck even as you move further into the facility. Once a target is in place, you’ll be safe to move on, automatically translocating to the forward-most position upon leaving the wagon.”

  “I’ve still got my doubts about the chasm,” said Defcon, staring out the Falcon at the white balls.

  “It’ll be tough, but I’m sure we’ll make it to the roof and across the durasteel webbing. It won’t be easy, and we’ll have to take out the laser cannons on top of each,” DaemonS answered. “Once across, we should be safe from the ground turrets while we find a way in. We may have to make our own entrance.”

  If only there was an outer entrance to the balls, but Figment had assured them the balls — research labs and testing facilities — only lowered twice a day, during shift changes. Not the most opportune time to attack.

  “According to Figment,” she said, aware that he was undoubtedly listening, “the advanced research labs are on the island. There, they are the most secure from industrial espionage or ‘unexpected experimental results’ that might harm the rest of the installation. If his sources are right....”

  “They are,” the static-filled voice interrupted.

  “If his sources are right,” DaemonS continued, ignoring him, “each module can be isolated independently and jettisoned from the main. That’s our way out.

  “Everyone got it? ’Cause this is the last chance for questions,” she said, seeing the stunned looks on their faces. She had to agree with them, somehow the task seemed even more daunting now that they were here, facing the facility for real.

  “Is it too late to find religion?” Defcon said to soft chuckles that quickly faded.

  For a moment they all sat silently, contemplating the suicide mission they’d gotten themselves into. Then Bodybag broke the quiet. “Yoos guys are too serious. Der’s only one life, might as well make it a
blast!”

  That woman definitely had a way with words. “Bodybag’s right,” DaemonS said. “Let’s bring the Apocalypz!”

  “Apocalyz Cowgirlz!” the others yelled as the five women each launched their translocator targets from the Falcon door toward the Genilon guard wall before leaping from the aircraft.

  * * *

  “Insertion is in progress,” Figment said. “They’re landing as we speak.”

  “Perfect.”

  The small room was dark and empty except for Pre-emptive Strike, who sat comfortably in the far corner. He had gradually become more idiosyncratic as the events of the recent week had unfurled. Now he would only sit in the shadows, even insisting the light from the tri-vid be dimmed. So they sat there, in the shadows, as figment projected the live feed from the Falcon above the table.

  The Cowgirlz were on the ground and had accessed the cache dropped by the Falcon. It contained a limited number of weapons and one emergency detonator each for those hard-to-reach places. Regardless, they had already triggered the entry alarms and would have to move fast or they would find themselves overwhelmed.

  Figment hadn’t admitted it to the Cowgirlz, but he had serious misgivings about this mission. Even with the portable cloning facility there was only a low chance of success. One didn’t just waltz into the Earth Global headquarters of one of the three most powerful companies in the known galaxy and expect to walk out unscathed. With luck, the main portion of Genilon’s security would be devoted to the Phalanx and Legion teams at the tournament.

  He forced his attention back to the assault.

  The Cowgirlz had weathered a small force of aggressive defenders. Pincer and Defcon were hard at work on the entry overrides while Vorpal covered them with sniper rifle. DaemonS and Bodybag protected the group from their vanguard positions. So far they had taken no casualties, but the second wave of defenders were approaching.

  * * *

  The blast doors snapped open to a storm of artillery. Pincer was instantly shredded and DaemonS had her left side torn up before she dove out of the way. Rolling onto her back she raised her flak cannon and pumped a grenade toward the entrance. Red rain fell in the aftermath of the Cowgirlz combined assault.

  “Everyone in,” she yelled, as Pincer translocated back from the clone truck.

  The foyer was long and spacious. Artificial plants, propaganda posters, and holograms of Genilon accomplishments lined either side. Small black hemispheres — faux security cameras — hung from the ceiling in each corner. Real cameras would be invisibly small and inconsequential given the amount of noise the Cowgirlz were making. The corridor of white ended in a security checkpoint but the trio of guards went down without effort and the group was into the Genilon facility.

  “Let’s move girls, company will be here soon. Pincer, lock down the foyer from the guard station. Defcon, the beacon goes in the corner. Bodybag, you’ve got first contact.”

  Bodybag raced off as her other teammates attended to their duties before rejoining DaemonS. The guard station was now sealed from view behind what seemed to be a semi-porous wall and the beacon vanished, its camo-surface altering to match the floor’s pattern.

  The other four Cowgirlz sped along the outer corridors of the Genilon facility, the blaring wail of alarms filling their ears. The hallways were devoid of other life and DaemonS could only assume the employees in this wing had been evacuated when the Cowgirlz began their assault. That left the offices open for quick inspection, only there was nothing of interest here — low level admin, meaningless bookkeeping, nothing unexpected. They pushed on.

  “Incoming.” Bodybag’s voice crackled over the comm. She was running vanguard but shouldn’t be more than a corridor or two ahead.

  “Right behind you.” They rounded the corner as Bodybag raced toward them, a constant stream of lead spewing from her machine gun, four elite Genilon security in pursuit.

  “Two-by-two support,” DaemonS called. The Cowgirlz squatted, two on each side of the aisle, heavy artillery aimed at their hosts. As Bodybag neared, she leapt high in the air and the Cowgirlz opened fire. The pursuers went down under a barrage of smoke, fire and lethal shrapnel. It was over before Bodybag landed, rather heavily, on the floor.

  “Da next biohazard seal’s around da corner,” Bodybag reported as she climbed to her feet.

  “You heard her, another seal and another camo-target. Let’s get moving Cowgirlz!” The opening of their assault was going well, maybe better than expected, but this was the easy part.

  * * *

  The network of durasteel suspension strands swayed in the bitter wind as DaemonS climbed from the access hatch to the support webbing that extended over the chasm. She moved off, giving the others space. Bodybag was already ahead scouting a path while Vorpal lay prone to the right, investigating the quartet of laser cannons through her sniper scope. The webbing looked to be seven hundred meters long and a hundred wide with the cannons clustered over the center of the chasm, spaced at the corners of a square one hundred meters from each neighbor.

  “Medium-scale laser turrets. Auto, but controls for one person. It appears we’re just outside their range — or somehow the security algorithms don’t yet perceive us as a threat.” Vorpal put aside the scope and sat up. “Daem, if we could take one of them, it would be a big help.”

  “I agree. Otherwise, it’ll take us far too long to destroy each cannon.” The rest of the team surfaced from the shaft behind DaemonS. “Camo-target set?” she asked.

  “Set and ready.” Pincer said, glancing up to see the laser cannons. “Looks like it’ll be getting a lot of work too.”

  “Not too much, I hope. Defcon, the rest of us are gonna run interference. You’re to get yourself into the hotseat of one of those cannons....”

  “Incoming!” came Bodybag’s yell in her ear.

  “...fast!” DaemonS finished.

  A laser pulse impacted the durasteel webbing spraying them with heat and light. DaemonS turned to see Bodybag bounding toward them at high speed. She used the spring of the webbing to carry her forward quickly as colored energy lances streaked around her.

  “Everyone else, forward. Concentrate fire on the nearest turret. Let’s move!” The four sprang forward, a hail of artillery spewing from their weapons. Defcon raced to the left to circle around, hopefully off the threat radar.

  Coherent light lanced at them from the cluster of turrets and Vorpal, unused to frontal assaults, took a pair of the spears in the chest. She was vaporized in a cloud of red mist. Pincer narrowly avoided another blast while Bodybag danced across the webbing unloading a constant stream of lead into the head of the turret.

  DaemonS pumped a trio of flak grenades at the cannon while bouncing from side to side to throw off the targeting computers. The laser was still too far away to open up with the flak cannon so she secured it in her shoulder sheath and drew the pulse cannon from her hip. Her kingdom for a rocket launcher! Unfortunately, it was just too heavy and unwieldy to be lugging through the facility. As good as the portable cloning facility was, it could never fully replace the game translocator system. She fired a series of shock spheres. Two of the globs detonated harmlessly in mid-transit, but one was a direct hit. Sparks from the firing mechanism were visible even at her distance, but the enemy weapon didn’t slow in launching its deadly payload.

  She leapt to the right, avoiding another pulse that burst on the webbing beside her as she fired off an energy pulse into the damaged cannon, before re-equipping the flak cannon. Now within twenty meters, the weapon would be effective — especially against such a large target.

  A scream to the left drew her attention. DaemonS turned to see a pair of glancing blows spin Pincer, knocking her off the webbing. The third beam turned her into a charred husk long before she hit the jagged rocks below. That left only two remaining Cowgirlz as decoys until the others returned. Defcon had better be fast.

  “Daem, we got a problem,” Vorpal informed h
er over the comm.

  “Another one?”

  “Looks like Genilon’s drawn a bead on the clone truck.”

  “Damn.” Could this mission get any better?

  * * *

  “Genilon has found the clone station. We have to extract the Cowgirlz,” Figment said, staring in fear at the static-filled visual feed from DaemonS. He never meant this to be a suicide mission.

  “You know we can’t do that, even if we wanted to. They’re in the middle of the Genilon facility,” PS answered from the shadows.

  “They could sacrifice their bodies; clone back at the truck. We could extract them from there,” Figment argued, turning to PS.

  “It’s too dangerous. Now that Genilon has the location they’ll have a full sensor array monitoring it. We can’t risk exposing Halandri’s involvement.”

  “You can’t just leave them!” The visual feed switched back to the clone station. Sentry turrets were pounding the truck, jarring the image with each impact. Until now the Genilon lasers appeared to have had little effect but it wouldn’t be long before the heavy artillery came out.

  “We can and must. They are a resourceful squad. I’m sure they will succeed to escape the facility. In the meantime, they, and you, are still under contractual obligations,” said the smooth, cold voice.

  Had the contract been on paper before him, instead of digitally bio-locked, Figment would have shredded it.

  * * *

  “What’s the status?” DaemonS called, dodging another laser pulse.

  “Only sentry cannons so far, no significant damage to the truck,” Vorpal reported.

  That was something to be thankful for. “Okay, there’s nothing to do except hope they don’t have an ion cannon. In the meantime, we can use your help here.”

  “Roger, we’re on our way.”

  “I’m in!” It was Defcon bringing some much needed good news.

  “Great! Finish our target then cover us,” DaemonS said, firing another round of flaknel at the turret.