“Well, it was worth a shot,” Bartonova said, while the sergeant listened to a different net on his headset. A look of concern clouded his features as he adjusted his volume. “What’s wrong?” she asked, but the Sergeant held up a finger for quiet.
“It’s the citadel,” he said. “The whole campus is on lockdown, they’re being audited right now.” Bartonova leaned back in her chair.
“The Citadel?” she said. “They suspect Unis are in the Citadel?”
“Well, she’s singing like a canary now,” Starnes said. As it turned out, it wasn’t the Chief of Finance and Contracting, but rather her adjutant who sold state secrets to the Union. Emma had the young woman immediately detained and shipped to a secure facility. No doubt to be fully interrogated with the FSB’s enhanced techniques.
Now, the two men walked to the designated car for them in the auto-port. The underground access way allowed people to enter and exit the Citadel relatively discreetly. General staff had agreed it was best to send the two men to the Capitol Gate to overseas the President’s security personally. Stubbornly, she refused to cancel her address, so they adapted.
“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re behind the curve of an assassination plot,” Jon said. “We know who we’re looking for, but we don’t even know if they’re still in the city.” Starnes nodded.
“That’s fair,” he said. “We only know a few nodes in their spy ring at the moment, but if they want to enact a plot to kill the president, they’ll have to act fast.” Tamm, traitor as she was, had rolled on her fellow conspirators rather easily. They’d found a few caches of weapons, but nothing absurd.
As they entered the car, they pulled up their ongoing scroll of updating information relative to their investigation. “They’re far more entrenched in our society than I thought possible,” Starnes said. “Even just going off the information we have here, this is ridiculous.”
Jon waved a hand. “You share a language, a few distant but common cultural influences, and your country doesn’t prosecute people over ideas,” he said. “It’s like building a wooden house and being surprised when you have termites.”
“I don’t think that’s as good an analogy as you think,” Starnes said. “It’s more like building a wooden house in an environment that termites aren’t native too, so you don’t think to check for them.” He folded his arms and shook his head. “Our cyber security was so powerful we got complacent when it came to physical security.”
“I have to admit physical infiltration and on the ground, intelligence are something of a lost art,” Jon replied. “Though not without its few practitioners.” Starnes nodded and tried to recline.
“We need to resurrect an entire branch from the fossil record,” he said. “Dust off the museum pieces, dig up the old manuals, it’ll take time to correct that.” As he sat back, he glanced out the window. They were taking a long route to conceal their approach to the Capitol Plaza. When the car veered away to begin their loop, he noticed a brief glimpse of a car passing them by.
It was an older model, still more than capable of self driving, but he could see a man behind the wheel. And a one-eyed man next to him, as well as silhouettes of armed men in the back. Starnes nearly left out of his seat.
“Car: turn around!” he cried. He pulled out his phone and snapped pictures of the car’s ID plate as they turned to face them. “Can’t this damn thing go any faster?”
“Are they in there?” Jon asked. To answer his question, a young man leaned out of one of the rear windows of the van. He wore a buttoned up shirt and a black and red armband. He shouted something as he opened up with a fully automatic rifle.
The bullet proof glass held up, but the battery carriage did not. Spewing coolant as bullets punctured the hoses, the car careened about the street. The computer manning the drive controls fought for control as subsystems went off line. All to no avail as it veered off the road and stuck a telephone pool before bouncing. The front end crumpled from the impact and both men ended up hitting their heads on the ceiling.
While Starnes tried to get his bearings, he heard bullets pinging off the shell of the car. Staying low, he crawled down onto the floor boards to avoid potentially penetrating hits. In the distance, he heard sirens. I hope the police get her quickly. They should have more than enough firepower on hand to deal with this.
Pops filled the air, clashing with the rattle of a few automatic rifles. The van sped off. But Starnes had already sent their tag and details to the FSB, so they’d be looking specifically for them with traffic cameras. As he dialed his phone, however, he was more concerned with whether they’d find them again before they got to Capitol Plaza.
“Hello Rebekah? don’t panic, but there're assassins on the way.”
If someone had told Reiter he’d be in this situation at the beginning of the war, he would have laughed. But as it were, he stood partially outside his cockpit, mere meters away from Guard-Colonel Kennedy standing on the shoulder of his own panzerter. For men that had spoken fairly often for enemies, it was odd seeing the man behind the menacing voice in his headset.
“Alright, we’re honoring your truce,” Reiter called. “Now explain yourself, Kennedy.” Kennedy looked over Reiter’s shoulder. Behind him to his left, Steele stood vigilant in her Panzerterkannone while Smith and a pilot from Early held his opposite flank. Their mounted infantry spread out in a staggered line among them.
“I believe you’re here to rescue your comrades,” Kennedy finally said. “I’m here to do the same.” For his part, six panzerters and a single IFV formed a half-circle facing them.
“Rescue them from what? Our people?” Reiter asked. Kennedy shook his head.
“No, they’re trapped by the inhuman panzerters you fought before,” the tuber replied. “All of them, and I don’t know about you, but we lack the firepower to break them out of there. Your lot doesn’t look much better.” He called them inhuman, that’s a handy bit of information about their new weapon. That and that they couldn’t control them.
“What are they exactly?” Reiter said.
“We don’t have time for this!” Kennedy snapped. “We need to find a working hanger elevator. Time now!” Reiter raised a hand to his helmet and turned on his radio.
“Stovepipe, find a way to get our panzerters in there,” he said. “Don’t mess with the MAGs, but don’t get too friendly either.” The infantryman snorted.
“No need to worry about us getting friendly,” he said. “Are we seriously abiding by this truce?”
“We are,” Reiter said. “It’s our best way to rescue our people.” Stovepipe sighed and acknowledged.
Steele chose that comment to enter the net. “Are you really going to trust this guy?” She asked.
“Don’t got to trust him,” Reiter said. “We just got to cooperate, for now.” He signaled to Kennedy he was going to climb down. Using the fully in the top of his cockpit, he grasped the handle and lowered himself to the ground. After a few minutes, Kennedy joined him.
He was about Reiter’s height, with a swept back coppery hair. Hi smile seemed unnaturally toothy, and his features seemed just too manufactured. Reiter held out a hand for the MAG officer to take, and he shook it. And so begins the most bizarre battle yet.
They immediately began pacing the base of the mountain, along with the rest of their people. “Do you remember where they came from?” Kennedy asked. Reiter gestured, more or less.
“It was in this area, but the entrance itself was concealed, and I was more preoccupied with the two I was fighting already,” he said. Kennedy pulled out a paper notebook.
“Well according to our best numbers, there are between five to twelve panzerters down there,” Kennedy said, “To answer your earlier question, a scientist here took tuber brains off the donation and research lists to experiment with them here, specifically pilot brains.”
With a sigh, Reiter looked up at the mountain. “I’ve read enough horror novels to see where this is going,” he said. �
��Just another item on the long list of objections we have to making tubers.”
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “Spare me. I’m revolted enough knowing they did this to my people,” he said.
“Your people,” Reiter corrected. “Your people did this to your people.” Kennedy shook his head.
“Enough with the semantics,” he said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we have a task at hand, or are all of you Provincial Watch types so easily distracted?”
Before they could continue their argument, someone shouted. With a look at each other, they both bolted over to the yelling individual. It was one of Reiter’s infantry, pulling some camouflage netting off of what appeared to be a rock at first glance. That was, until the access terminal became much easier to see.
“Can you get in there?” Reiter asked. “How soon can you get the elevator up and open?” The soldier shook his head.
“I can’t quite, sir,” he said. “Every input I make gets altered by the time it registers, I’m not sure how to get through.” Damn it! MAYHEM bites us in the ass.
“Here,” One of Kennedy’s pilots said, kneeling next to rifleman. “This has been hammering our systems pretty hard. I have to deal with it every time I request rations.”
“Outstanding Gallant,” Kennedy said. “Well done!” Despite himself, Reiter realized, he nodded along. Maybe we can do this.
24
The hammering on the bay door intensified. Mo raised his rifle as the metal warped and began to give before quickly lowering it. “Yeah right, what good is it anyway?” He said. He looked around at the other occupants of the far observation deck. The drop troopers and guards adopted essentially the same attitude he did. Wesser held Winona and Rosetti close, looking far more motherly than he’d ever seen her. Holtslander set Hans down, and the young boy seemed oddly calm.
“There’s got to be something we can do,” Webb said. “We have rockets, right? Maybe we can distract the while you lot hide and wait for help?” Irving shook her head.
“It’s no use,” she said. “They know we’re here. Even if we hid in a closet or something, they’d figure out we’re hiding and just destroy this level. We can feel slightly safer, without actually being safer.” Mo raised a hand.
“No, we combine the ideas,” he said. “We hide the kids, that include’s you, Rosi, and we distract them until they kill us, there’s no way they have an exact count of us, right?” He pointed at the teenagers. “They’ll think they got us and then wait for rescue.” Before Rosetti could protest, Irving stepped up.
“This Rosi of yours is perfectly capable of fighting with the rest of the adults,” she said. “Unless you think she can’t hack it because she’s a young woman.” Mo stepped into Irving’s space, not one to back down.
“It’s not a she can’t do it thing,” Mo hissed. “It’s an ‘I’ve lost so many soldiers before their time, let me save one’ thing, I know damn well she’s capable, that’s why she’s here.” The door gave further, they could see movement on the other side. Wesser began checking every cabinet to find the best spot to hide the kids. Holtslander handed Hans over to the woman, then began prepping a rocket. It’s the strangest thing. I know I’m going to die, yet I’ve never felt so… calm.
A pang of guilt raced through him. I’m sorry Amy, I hope someone gives you the life I couldn’t. He noticed one of the guard’s hand Irving a pistol. The MAG officer checked her ammo, then chambered a round.
“Guys,” Winona cried. “There’s a crawlspace here, it goes way back.” Webb whipped his head around.
“Shit, kids, get in there,” he said. “Change of plans, children, pilots, XOs, then drop troopers and guard until we’re all through,” he said. “I’ll be the last man.” Rosetti grabbed Hans and dragged him through the crawlspace, followed immediately by Winona.
“Alright, Wess, you then Irving,” Mo said. “I’ll be right behind you.” As soon as Wesser entered the tunnel, the bay door groaned. More of its edges separated from the frame. Irving dove nearly face first into Wesser’s behind, in her desperation to live. Most of the guards began running onto the catwalk.
“What are you doing?” Webb cried.
“We’re probably going to get executed anyway for this facility getting compromised,” one said. “I think we’d rather go out on our own terms.” In the distance, automatic weapons fire blazed away at the widening gaps in the bay door.
Mo began shuffling younger drop troopers through the crawlspace, much to Webb’s chagrin. “I appreciate the gesture,” he said. “But you don’t have an obligation to my people like I do. You took a few years to train and you’re valuable to the war effort,” he said. As he spoke, he lifted the rocket Holtslander had prepared. “No, get in that hole and-“
Webb never finished his sentence as Holtslander struck him across the face. The drop trooper fell like a puppet, with its strings cut right into Mo’s arms. “Geez, sir, speak for yourself,” Holtslander said as he shook his hand before taking the rocket back. “Get him out of here Mo, and take good care of that Amy chick, will ya?” Before Mo could argue any further, the bay door collapsed.
A tinhat stepped through, its red sensor sweeping for targets. As it smashed a catwalk full of guards, more of its companions stood behind it. Mo crawled backwards through the crawlspace so he could fit Webb in with him. The older man’s half-frame smashed against the sides of the crawlspace, and Mo could feel the panzerters moving around the other area.
Suddenly, fresh air and multiple hands pulling him out. He found himself in a large dark room with only their flashlights for light. Much to his surprise, Irving owned the softest pair of hands on him. The things you notice in life-or-death circumstances.
“What the hell?” Ozel asked when he saw the unconscious Webb.
“Holtslander wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself so he could escape,” Mo replied. “He’ll be pissed when he wakes up.”
“Speaking of escape, there’s a door across the way there!” Rosetti cried. “Let’s go!” As they ran across the catwalk in the dark, Mo turned on his flashlight and looked around. At first, he nearly panicked when he spotted a large, dark metallic shape below them. Then he realized it was an old Mark II. Then he realized there were a lot of them around.
Rosetti reached the door first. As she excitedly opened the door, a gunshot rang out. She screamed and fell backwards onto Hans. Light poured out of the door, as a spindly man in a MAG uniform stood in the door with a pistol.
“Well, I see a problem right here,” the Tharcian soldier named Dino said. Kennedy frowned as he stood nearby. Gallant looked over Dino’s shoulder.
“Is that the actual limit right there?” she asked. Dino nodded,
“Yeah, your horror show panzerters must weigh a lot less without shells, cockpit armor or traditional life-support,” he said. “So here’s the problem.”
“We can only fit two, maybe three machines,” Gallant said. “Definitely two if the Black Knight goes down.” Reiter looked over at Kennedy.
“You said they’re rampaging?” he asked. “Why haven’t they come up here?” Kennedy rolled his eyes.
“Isn’t it obvious? The facility staff worked the elevator,” he said. “I doubt they could use it on their own.” Reiter held his chin in his hand, a gesture Kennedy learned meant he was thinking.
“Say they did get up here,” Reiter said. “How much damage could they do?”
“Well, they’d fight until they ran out of nuclear fuel,” Kennedy said. “They’d run out of ammo long before that, but I see where you’re going with this.” He looked at his own soldiers. “Should any of these abominations get up here, destroy them, that’s an order.”
“The same goes for you all,” Reiter said to his own people. “If these things hit a populated area, Union, Tharcian, First Nation, or Vinnish, it’ll be bad news.”
“So who’s going down?” One of Reiter’s soldiers asked.
“I am,” Kennedy said.
“As am I,” Reiter added. “The
Lowe and the Martian custom have the most firepower and protection between all of our forces, it’s a no brainer.” Kennedy found himself nodding along. Though the Black Knight looked considerably different from the last time he’d seen it, it still bristled with fire power relative to anything his forces fielded themselves. Let’s hope it’s enough.
On the other hand, it could have been an abysmal plan. What if the two of them stepped away and their soldiers needed up attacking each other, wiping the recovery forces out in the process? The possibility of returning to several smoldering wrecks played at the edges of Kennedy’s mind. I trust my people to behave. These Tharcians, on the other hand… He shook his head as he neared the base of his Martian. Captain Reiter likely had the same concerns he did, and in a rare moment of empathy, he understood the man’s position better than anyone else.
As soon as he hit the cockpit chair, he ran his Martian through pre-combat checks. Sensors, weapons, communications and the engine all came back green. With a sigh, he buckled in and strapped on his helmet. Across from him, the black knight’s hatch snapped shut and the menacing panzerter’s visor lit up.
“I’m ready when you are,” Reiter said. Kennedy acknowledged, and they began walking towards the elevator entrance. He took the opportunity to look over the Lowe’s upgrades. It had regained a shoulder mounted railgun and paired it with a multi-tube rocket pod. A wrist mounted pair of cannons and a more aggressive shield rounded out the weaponry he could see.
He wasn’t kidding about firepower. Though Kennedy’s own machine possessed batter armor than the standard Martian and greater agility, it boasted little more than the standard Martian in terms of armament. He relied more on not being hit then shrugging off hits in a Jupiter, as the Tharcians weapons tech progressed to the black knight’s standard, most of their weapons would be capable of beating the heavy panzerter’s thick armor.
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