Kill Switch: Final Season

by Sean E. Britten

  “Saw what kind of man you are on the ship.” Echo said, “See these holes in the side of my head? People like you strapped me down, forced spikes into my brain to shock different parts, hoping it’d give me powers. Can’t even remember my life before the experiments, took it from me. Will not follow orders from you.”

  Klou growled, low in his throat. Keeping his laser rifle lowered, Klou started to raise his other hand behind Echo’s back as if to smack her with it. Echo didn’t see. Before Klou could do anything, she cocked her head to the side.

  “Hear that?” Echo said.

  “Hear what?” Klou said.

  It was almost totally quiet in the Suburbia section. There was only the low hum of what sounded like an automated vehicle somewhere else in the section, and the hiss of an automatic sprinkler system that somehow had water on one of the green lawns. Klou listened but had no idea what Echo was referring to.

  “Music.” Echo said, “Beautiful music.”

  “Are you crazy? Little idiot, there is no music.” Klou said.

  Echo didn’t answer, wandering away from Klou carelessly. Her axe dangled limply at her side. Klou looked around in confusion and noticed for the first time a small church at the top of a nearby hill. It was a white building with a dark grey roof, a tall steeple on the front dominated by a large cross. The way it was positioned, the church would have overlooked most of the Suburbia section. Echo seemed to be headed for it.

  “What are you doing? Come back here!” Klou said.

  Moments later, Klou realised he could hear music coming from the church as well. It was like nothing he had ever heard before. Indescribable in the sense that the words to describe it had never been invented. Some distant part of Klou’s analytical mind knew he was hearing the music in his head rather than with his ears but by that point it didn’t matter. Following Echo, Klou started walking toward the church as well as if in thrall.

  xXx

  Two hundred kilometres away from the game arena, across parched and rolling desert, was the border of the next adjoining country. The landscape gave way to sharp hills and denser brush. Between the shifting lines of both countries was a legal grey area that no one wanted to claim for fear of setting off another war.

  Existing in this grey area was a sprawling bordertown, a small and temporary city of nomads dominated by an enormous open-air marketplace. Almost anything could be bought or sold by the nameless city’s residents or by those passing through. Guns, drugs, sex, these were just the most basic of the goods and services sold at bargain prices. There was also food and spices, illegally modified droids, the services of mercenaries, military equipment, ancient artifacts thought lost to the sands of time, exotic animals and bioweapons, jewels, knockoff handbags, and anything else a person would be willing to travel far enough to find.

  As the glow and dust from the airship’s fusion explosion rose high enough to stain the horizon, the small city was unusually subdued. Many of the city’s residents were inside, watching Slayerz. Near the heart of the marketplace was an airy bar. Thick, rough-hewn poles supported massive sheets of canvas that made up the roof and walls. Shafts of sunlight stabbed between the sheets. In spite of the building’s nomadic appearance several paper-thin, high definition television screens were suspended above the central bar. Dozens of patrons watched different feeds from the Slayerz arena. Commercials played constantly in the corners of screens or between moments in the action.

  A figure in white armour threaded through the crowd. A weapon was strapped to his hip but the young, muscular man wasn’t wearing his helmet. He made his way to a table at the back of the room.

  “The broadcast is obviously confirmation of the arena’s location.” The young mercenary said, “And we’ve just received the final go-ahead.”

  A heavily muscled woman sat behind the table, watching Slayerz on the screens from across the room. She drained her drink and set the glass down on the scarred tabletop. Her mechanical arm tapped at the wood, digging out a small divot as she’d waited impatiently for the report.

  “Let’s do this, then.” She said.

  The mercenaries moved quickly now that they had their orders. A pair of boat-shaped Landmaster ex-military vehicles had been hidden at the edge of town. As soon as the mercenaries were all gathered and inside them the bus-sized vehicles tore out of the unnamed city and headed into the wilderness. Trinary wheel alignments working in concert, moving off-road and across the arbitrary line of the nearest border toward the game’s arena, streamers of dust being flung into the air behind them.

  Chapter Seven

  “MEAT™ SPHERE!”

  “It’s so big!”

  “MEAT™ SPHERE! MEAT™ SPHERE!”

  “It’s so smooth! And spherical!”

  “MEAT™ SPHERE! MEAT™ SPHERE! Mm-Mm-Mm-Mm-MEAT™ SPHERE!”

  “Made from one hundred percent genuine MEAT™! Put in your mouth, chew and swallow, just like food!”

  “MEAT™ SPHERE!”

  Digger and Homer ran for one of the factories placed around the freeway interchange. The underside of the overpass stretched over them. Behind them, the military mech stalked after the two like an angry rooster, the minigun on its back twitching in readiness. The scrubby ground under the freeway was covered in trash and dotted with shallow but hidden pits that could easily catch their feet and twist their ankles if they weren’t careful. As they reached the factory they squeezed through a gap in the fence. Digger and Homer crossed the crumbling asphalt of the factory lot.

  “Got to be some sort of way inside.” Digger said, “We could trap that bastard in there, or set an ambush.”

  Digger tried a rusty sliding door as they reached the building. Links of chain rattled inside and the door wouldn’t budge. The factory’s windows were covered in bars and all the doors they could see were locked.

  Whining, bullets raked across the building above the two contestant’s heads. The mech was closing in behind them. It might have seemed awkward when picking its way between rusted cars and over concrete barricades but the mech was much faster than the two of them across open ground. Digger wondered whether the mech’s targeting system had been tampered with though, to be less efficient. It wasn’t a theory Digger wanted to test too far, however. Gesturing at Homer, Digger sprinted around the side of the building. The mech crashed through the remains of the factory’s fence and circled, minigun firing.

  The factory was made up of three conjoined buildings set in a horseshoe around an empty parking lot. Everything seemed to be locked but metal staircases led to the rooftops of the three buildings. The mech couldn’t possibly climb those stairs. Digger headed up the closet set toward the rooftop and Homer followed. They could hear the gears of the mech grinding as it made its way around the building.

  Digger and Homer reached the rooftop as the mech came into view below. Looking for them, the mechanical warbeast continued around the building and disappeared into an alleyway. Digger had his UMP45 at his shoulder but he wasn’t going to waste more bullets on the machine unless he had no other choice. Scanning the rooftop for a better vantage, Digger backed away from the stairs.

  They were on the roof, mech circling below, when their maps updated for the first time. That meant they were half an hour into the game already. Their sleeves showed the five sections of the arena without much change. Both other teams in Freeway Interchange, Madaki and Du Preez, Bitter and O’Shae, however, had closed in toward their position. Drawn by the sound of gunfire.

  “Bloody Madaki, Homer my old mate.” Digger said, “I used to have a pack of cards with his face on the King of Hearts. He was a warlord, you know, one of the big players in the Bio-Wars. Bloke was supposed to have a bunch of bodyguards, all females, all good sorts and deadly as. Don’t know what happened with that, how he ended up here.”

  Digger moved to the corner of the building, gun ready. Homer followed behind him like a faithful pup, his oversized helmet jostling on his head. A couple of figures were in the shadow of th
e overpass not far away. They darted from one car to another, staying behind cover. Macbeth Madaki and Junior Du Preez. Digger couldn’t hit them with his submachine gun from that distance so he waited for them to get closer.

  Madaki was a heavyset man who ran awkwardly, with thick shoulders and a soft middle despite his heavily muscled chest and arms. Ritualistic scars crisscrossed the man’s face, pale against his dark skin. In his own savage circle of Hell, cut off from the world during a portion of the war, Madaki had practically been worshipped like a god-king. The former warlord was carrying a pump-action shotgun with a bandolier of shells across his chest. The handle of a large machete jutted above his left shoulder, sheathed down his back.

  His partner, Junior Du Preez, was leaner but still well-muscled and grizzled, a white South African ex-special forces soldier and mercenary. He had a shaved head and a prematurely white beard ringed around his mouth. Du Preez was carrying a much more exotic-looking weapon. Shaped like a light machine gun, the gun was unusually long and silver, and instead of a muzzle its barrel ended in two forked prongs. Digger recognised it as a Zeus-series lightning gun, good against robots and devastating on living targets but only at a short range.

  “You know the way it is with lions, mate?” Digger said, “The lionesses, the girls, they do all the hunting for the pack. The head lion, king of the jungle, he’s got the good life. He just lies around all day sleeping and fucking and waiting for the ladies to bring home the tucker. You might think he’s a bit of a lazy bugger then and the girls are the real pros, alpha lion’s just a big house cat, but you ever look one of those head lions in the face and you know what you’re going to see? Scar tissue, mate, more scars than face. It’s a good life so long as you got muscle and the balls to defend it. Might seem fat and lazy, dumb, but don’t think that he can’t be dangerous when he wants to be. That’s Madaki for you, mate, don’t underestimate him if he gets close enough.”

  Suddenly, the tan mech erupted from around the building, chicken legs whirring. Its minigun started blasting away and tearing up ground near Madaki and Du Preez. The two of them dropped back behind a rusted car abandoned under the overpass. The mech fixed its fire on the car. Windows shattered and its metal panels imploded. Circling the vehicle, the mech had the two contestants pinned.

  “Bloody wind-up toy is having all the fun.” Digger said.

  Du Preez broke away from the car first, sprinting back toward the road and firing his lightning gun. Crackling, blue electricity arced from the forked barrel of the weapon and caught the mech, sparkling across its armour. The exotic gun had little effect on the tanklike mech, however. Its armour was too thick and insulated, and the South African mercenary should have known it. Du Preez was only acting as a distraction, Digger realised. As the mech turned its gun on Du Preez, his partner emerged from the other side of the bullet-riddled car. Moving fast, Madaki ran through open space with a loping gait. Du Preez kept orbiting the mech, staying ahead of its minigun, but the lightning gun had a limited effective range. Realising it was being ambushed, the mech turned on Madaki. The warlord ran straight at the mech rather than seek cover, bullets whining past his head. Digger and Homer watched the battle, unseen, from the factory.

  Running in a beeline at the hulking mech, Madaki suddenly pitched himself forward. In spite of his bulky frame, Madaki slid between the mech’s legs like a baseball player and then rolled easily to his feet. The mech stomped around in a circle, trying to turn on the warlord, but Madaki kept moving and stayed directly behind the machine. Madaki’s shotgun was back in its sheath on his back, useless against the mech’s armour, the pistol grip hilt of the weapon emerging from above his right shoulder while the hilt of his machete jutted above his left.

  Grabbing the mech by its rear, Madaki hauled himself up and climbed on top of it. He wrapped one leg around its smoking minigun and rode the machine like a bucking mechanical bull. Madaki withdrew his machete. Although it was impossible to hear over the grinding gears and stomping of the mech, as soon as it was unsheathed the edge of the machete’s blade sung with a soft, keening wail. A vibroblade, the machete vibrated almost imperceptibly along its edge making it capable of cutting through almost any material with far less force than a normal blade.

  The mech’s arms were scrabbling at its sides, trying to grab at Madaki’s boots. Madaki brought his machete down on the front of the mech’s blunt head, carving through the lenses it used to see. Blinded, the mech threw itself backward. A short blast from its minigun sprayed wildly into the air, deafening Madaki for a moment. Just barely keeping his balance, Madaki brought the machete down again and hit the mech across the side of its head. It carved a whole section off the front of the mech’s body, meeting the gash he had already cut through its face. Sparking, the slab of armour and electronics fell off the mech’s prow and hit the ground. Like a dying hippo, the mech collapsed with Madaki on top of it.

  Madaki slid off the downed mech. Du Preez came running over with his lightning gun trained at the gap in the mech’s armour, ready to give it a burst and fry it from the inside if it tried getting up again. Both men seemed relieved the battle was over. Digger, watching, stood up and placed one foot on the lip of the rooftop.

  “Oi! Nice one, your majesty, you fat, black bastard!” Digger yelled.

  Digger’s voice carried and echoed off the underside of the overpass. Madaki and Du Preez’s reactions were instantaneous. Digger pressed the stock of his H&K UMP45 to his shoulder and opened fire. Both men scattered to get away from the sudden burst of gunfire as several rounds tore up the dirt next to Madaki. Although they were some distance away Digger had a better chance of hitting them with his submachine gun than they had of hitting him with their weapons.

  Madaki and Du Preez took cover behind the fallen mech. Both fired back, Madaki’s shotgun roaring and Du Preez’s lightning gun sending out a crackling wall of electricity. The forks of lightning carved funnels in the dirt, unable to connect with anything, and even backfired to hit the mech.

  Digger couldn’t hit them while they were behind the mech but he had the pair pinned down. He glanced at the injectors on Homer’s belt and wondered if it might be a good time to see what they were actually capable of. Before it went further than a thought, Digger realised Homer was pointing. Three more mechs were moving in from the direction of the main loops of the interchange. They were built like the first mech, car-sized bodies with two legs and small, dangling arms. Two of them, like the first, had miniguns mounted to their backs while the third had a pair of missile pods, two massive, brick-shaped launchers, fanning out from its back like wings. The third mech’s missile pods thundered. With a flash of fire and smoke it sent a small missile corkscrewing through the air. The other two mechs also started firing, their miniguns whining.

  “Bloody hell, here comes the cavalry!” Digger said.

  The missile slammed into the ground near Madaki and Du Preez, showering them with a geyser of dirt. Bullets chewed up the earth to either side. They scrambled to get clear, taken by surprise. Digger could have hit them then but it was so chaotic that he didn’t know where to start.

  Loosely spaced apart, the trio of battle-scarred mechs were closing in. As they watched, however, the central mech jerked upward as it spotted Digger. With a flash it sent another missile sizzling through the air, leaving a twisted tail of smoke. The missile punched into the building under Digger and Homer’s feet and shook the rooftop. Masonry and glass blasted from the wall. Digger stumbled backward.

  “Bugger this, mate, I don’t want to get stuck up here again!” Digger said, “Let’s get out of here and go for the wall, let them have each other.”

  Digger and Homer ran down the stairs, back to ground level. The main body of the factory was between them and the three mechs. Sounds of battle echoed as they headed across open ground beyond the factory. A couple of other rundown buildings and another clogged road sat in their way, and beyond them the wall. It wasn’t the outer wall of the arena but stood between them and
the next section. Digger checked the map on his wrist again.

  “There’s a tunnel open nearby, let’s get to it and blow this joint.” Digger said.

  On the other side of the factory, Madaki and Du Preez faced off with the three mechs, who were a bigger immediate threat than the Australian and his apparently harmless partner. Staying low, Madaki and Du Preez stuck close to the first, downed mech for cover. Pieces of masonry were tumbling out of the crater in the building where Digger and Homer had been located. The two of them had disappeared.

  The middle mech launched another missile at Madaki and Du Preez. It hissed over their heads and dipped, burying itself in the dirt with another thunderous explosion. The shockwave bowled the two men forward as more dirt rained across their backs.

  “Go left.” Madaki said, “Take the one on the left. I will take the two on the right, they are mine.”

  “You crazy, cousin?” Du Preez said, “You must be out of your foking mind!”

  Bullets ripped through the ground around them. Ignoring Du Preez, Madaki stood up and darted away from the downed mech. There was no way he could take on three alone and if the warlord died then Du Preez would be dead as well. Cursing in Afrikaans, Du Preez got up and took off running.

  Junior Du Preez was a hardened mercenary, who when he was cut loose from a South African private security firm went to work in much more illegal circles. Still, Du Preez was out of his depth facing three mechs. His gun was an anti-droid weapon but the mechs were shielded. The leftmost mech tracked Du Preez, gun barrels roaring. The mech was heavily scarred, its armour darkened as if with burns and with huge rents, like claw marks, made in its armour. The South African merc dived behind one of the overpass support beams. Rounds drilled into the concrete, enormous fragments being hammered loose and falling away. Other bullets ricocheted and sizzled past Du Preez as he tucked his arms in tight.