by Thomas Webb
The scientist swallowed hard and remained quiet as they got moving. Soon they hit a landing which led to a ramp, then to a set of stairs. They stalked down several flights, moving in twos, eyes alert. They deployed with rifles ready, checking above, beside, and below. Soon they reached the sublevel floor, ready for anything. Piping of all colors and circumferences ran along the walls as they approached the base of the massive generators. The twin generators, each the size of a three-story building, sat alongside environmental systems that kept the Grand Nebula functioning.
Hale signaled to Zombie to split off. She nodded, taking Shane, Shemi, and the rest of her small team around the generating unit on the left. Hale and his people took the right.
Kris shifted ahead of Hale, covering the team high as they approached a corner. Meanwhile he took a knee, covering low. One by one, the rest of the team filed past, their rifles held at the high ready.
Hale fell in beside the reformed stack, double-timing to take the lead again. As they approached a corner at the edge of one of the generator units Hale drew up short, whipping up his fist. He backed off the edge of the corner, stepping out to ‘slice the pie’ and exposing as little of himself as possible.
He eased around the corner, spotting a sentry high above. Hale covered as he signaled a shooter from the back. The young Kushite woman crept forward and leaned out from cover, taking careful, quiet aim. She dropped the enemy soldier, the body collapsing high up on a platform. Hale heard the energy-filled crack of a Tauranian long gun, and the enemy above—the one he hadn’t spotted—fell a story to the ground.
“Looks like I owe someone a beer,” Hale remarked.
“I do not drink Earth alcohol, Trace child of Hale.”
“Tauranian wine, then?”
Kris nodded.
They moved ahead. A third Separatist popped out, and four shots from Hale’s suppressed pulse rifle snapped into the fighter before he could give them away.
They weren’t so lucky in nailing the Separatist’s partner.
“Contact left!” the second Separatist shouted. She was a pro, taking cover before returning fire. A swarm of pulse rounds blasted into the duracrete behind Hale. He got low and waited, before popping out and dropping the soldier on the fly.
“Move!” Hale ordered.
They fell in behind him, shuffling quickly down the corridor, a team on each side of the wall. Shots sounded from their front.
Hale moved without thinking. “Cover!” he shouted.
They took fire, hunched down behind anything they could find, all of them acutely aware that cover and concealment were two very different things. With the thin corridor between the two generator units flooded with pulse fire, they were pinned down.
Hale gritted his teeth. To Hell with this. “Get ready,” he said.
The recon Marine popped up again, squeezing off two rounds and dropping the one shooter who held the high ground. Before the body fell, the team was already on the move. They encountered a ramp, raced down it, then took a short set of peristeel mesh stairs. Hale heard yelling. Pulse rounds screamed from behind, streaking over his shoulder. They struck an enemy fighter ahead of him, and two on a balcony above.
“On your right!” a KRG soldier shouted.
Before Hale could acquire a target, a shot from the Kushite soldier’s rifle dropped the man. He fell over the railing and plummeted to the floor, landing with sickening wet thump.
“Careful Two,” Hale communicated to Zombie. “We’re made,”
“No shit boss,” Zombie quipped from the other side of the apartment building-sized generator.
“From here on in we go fast and hard,” Hale ordered. “On me.”
Hale whipped up his rifle and doubled his speed. He eyed the Separatist bodies as they passed. The dead fighters wore dark blue maintenance coveralls under high speed kit—state of the art modular body armor and helmets with thermal and infrared holo optics. They carried model 4 STAR pulse rifles. Definitely ULS-provided gear.
The teams moved deeper into the bowels of the sublevel.
“Headed back your way One,” Zombie said. “Thirty seconds out.”
From the left, Zombie and company came into view.
“Good guy good guy,” Zombie said, announcing herself as she, Shane, the scientist, and the other KRG troops rejoined them. “Left generator’s clear,” she reported.
Hale took the opportunity to pause and change his pulse mag. “Good,” he said. He keyed up his comms. “Three this is One. What’s the status on the conference members?”
“Secured,” Lash said. The wave was coming in spotty thanks to the unexpected interference from the sublevels. But at least it worked. “They’re being moved off site now.”
Hale swore to himself. Too slow.
“Time to evacuate?” he asked.
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes?” Lash replied. “There are a lot of people here. Lifts are down. And the conference party was much larger than we thought. We’re working to get them to somewhere we hope is secure. Hard to know where that might be with bombs having gone off all over the city.”
The bad news just kept getting worse. “Waves still blocked, Three?”
“Affirmative One.”
Shit. “Copy Three. Keep working the problem. Keep me posted. Oh—and relay a message to the TOC. Let them know our comms won’t reach them from the sublevels. We’ll reestablish contact when we can. One out.” Hale turned to the team. “Fall in,” he ordered. “Eyes open.”
“Any sign of Ramsey?” Shane asked.
Hale shook his head. “Not yet. But he’s here. I can feel it.”
They moved to the far ends of the structures. The generators thrummed with power, the vibrations moving up through the floor. Fluorescent lights flooded the place. Pulse fire shattered the silence.
“Contact right!” A KRG soldier shouted. He opened up in response.
Hale and his force shifted aside. That was when he spotted them, placed at neat intervals along the structural supports. He recognized the casings from the chalet. The explosives.
They were positioned in precise geometrical patterns, attached to several structural pillars and to the generators themselves. If the pulse charges reacted with those power generators, half the block would go. Even if the dignitaries were offsite, it might not be far enough to be clear of the blasts.
“Zombie!” Hale shouted, pointing to the explosives.
“Check!” she said, not taking her eye from her scope. She darted into the open. Hale fired off several shots, covering her as she moved in beside him.
“If they’re still in here then it means they won’t blow the bombs,” Hale told her.
“Unless they’re straight-up fanatics,” she replied. She dropped her mag and switched out. “Remember those freaks on OC Planet #6? The ones strapped with the S-vests?”
“Yeah,” He said. He remembered, and not fondly. “Get that EOD expert up!” Hale shouted. “We move on their position now!”
Someone dropped a shooter up top. Hale got low and moved forward, ducking behind a maintenance panel. He did a quick mag check—he was almost low—before he snap-peeked out. Two of them were scrambling to close up shop and move. One spotted him and smiled.
Ramsey.
Ramsey lifted his pulse pistol and fired, grinning from behind his new face. Hale grimaced. One hand held the pistol, but the other held what looked to Hale like a remote detonator.
“Straight ahead!” Hale yelled.
There was a flurry of shouted orders, grunts, and pulse fire.
“Moving!” Zombie said.
“Move!” Hale said, covering her. “Everyone else—assault forward!”
Hale heard the ammo-low warning beep inside his helmet, a red flashing icon in the shape of a rifle appearing in his field of view. He was burning through rounds. He emptied his magazine, combat reloaded, leaned out and dropped one up on the balcony. He spotted Ramsey and two others duck away, headed back toward the stairs leading up to the exi
ts.
“Kris!” Hale shouted. “I need you with me! We got Ramsey! The rest of you-take out those bombs!”
-23-
Shane snapped off several rounds at the defending Separatists. Incoming pulse fire scorched the walls and metal around her. It seemed to come from everywhere.
Shane pressed herself against the wall at her back. She inhaled-exhaled, steadying her breathing.
Damn I wish I had a gunship wrapped around me, she thought.
While no stranger to ground combat, it wasn’t her comfort zone. She much preferred to play to her strengths, as the saying went.
“Cover,” the KRG soldier next to her said. He didn’t seem to have a problem with fighting on the hard deck. He moved like he was born to do it.
“Covering,” Shane replied. She leaned against the corner and worked her rifle, red pulse rounds shrieking toward the enemy. The soldier next to her dropped his magazine and slammed a fresh one home.
“Razor Two to all Razor elements,” Gina said. With Hale off chasing Ramsey, she was in charge. “We need support on the far side of the sublevel. We’re gonna flank them.”
“Copy Razor two,” the Kushite soldier replied. “I will take a team.”
“Solid copy,” Gina replied. “All other elements, hold fast.”
The sound of outgoing fire to Shane’s left dropped off as the royal guardsmen moved to execute the flanking maneuver. Just then Gina’s voice came in over the comm wave.
“Razor Two to Valkyrie.”
“Go for Valkyrie,” Shane said.
“I need the pulse energy geek and the demo expert on these explosives.” Shane heard incoming pulse fire in the background. Gina popped off several shots in response. “Christ in the stars,” she swore. “These assholes are everywhere.”
Shane checked with Chege, the EOD expert, who was otherwise engaged firing at the enemy. She turned to Shemi. The scientist was scrunched in the corner, making himself as small as possible. His eyes were shut tight.
“You good down there?” Shane asked.
A bead of sweat flew as he gave a fearful nod.
“Just stay close to me Shemi,” Chege said. “You will be fine.”
Shemi opened his eyes. Shane smiled down at him, trying to exude as much confidence as she could muster. “Copy all Razor Two. We’re en route.”
“Good. Have the auxiliary force cover you as you move. Have your own security keep those intervals tight.” Gina’s words were punctuated with the occasional blast of a rifle. “See you up here.”
“You all heard the lady,” Shane said. “Let’s move.”
With her KRG bodyguard in the lead, Shane, Shemi, and Chege shifted forward. They moved one at a time, bounding from cover to cover, with Shemi sticking close to Chege. A pulse round flew by. The burning stench of ozone stung Shane’s nose as it snapped past, far closer than she would have liked. As Chege moved ahead, a hidden Separatist popped from cover.
“Fall back!” Chege shouted, rushing ahead. He raised his rifle. Too late.
A volley of shots snapped into the young guardsman’s armor, tracing upward to his throat, neck, and face. He collapsed.
Shane and her bodyguard opened up, killing the enemy fighter in a hail of pulse rounds. They’d put the defender down, but Chege, the Explosive Ordnance Disposal tech, was gone.
“Dammit,” Shane spat. Another man had died. A man who was possibly critical to the mission. There was nothing left but to tell Gina. “Valkyrie to Razor Two,” Shane said.
“Go for Two,” Gina replied.
“The auxiliary element—the EOD tec—he’s down.”
“Down?”
“He’s gone.”
“Shit!” Gina hissed. “Ok. . . Fuck! Lemme think a second.” There was a pause before Gina came back on the wave. “Valkyrie this is Two. I want the geek to get behind the auxiliary element and get up here anyway. We lost our EOD, but he’s the closest thing we got. Over.”
One of the KRG operatives heard the relay over the wave and moved to the front next to Shane. “Ready when you are,” she said.
Shane nodded and pulled Shemi to his feet. She shoved the young scientist behind her. “Stay close to me. You might just be our last shot at disarming the explosives.”
The three of them darted from the stanchion they’d taken cover behind, moving toward Gina’s position. Shane noticed a marked decrease in enemy fire as they ran. Having closed the space, they took cover next to Gina, just behind a condensing unit the size of a starship escape pod. There was a single sporadic burst of incoming pulse fire, then silence. Gina leaned out, performed a quick snap-peek, then ducked back in.
“I think we’re clear,” Gina said. She moved, slow and cautious, to her feet. She scanned the area. “We don’t have enough to set a full perimeter,” she mumbled, speaking more to herself than anyone else. She stood still for a brief second, taking stock of their strength and weighing their options.
“Razor Two to all sublevel elements,” Gina began. “Spread out. These devices are everywhere. We need to account for all of them. That means we need every swinging dick sniffing these things out.
Start with the obvious ones, then move to the most likely locations—probably the generator ports and the support beams for the hotel would be my guess. Locate them and stand by—do not touch the devices. We’ll be acting as our own security on this one, so keep your eyes and ears peeled. This place hasn’t been one-hundred percent cleared, so there may still be enemy creeping around. Razor Two out.” Gina cut the comms. She turned to Shane. “I want you and the geek with me, ok?”
“Shane nodded. “Okay.”
“Good. Let’s move out.”
Gina hefted her rifle and stepped off. She passed right by the explosives they could see, leaving them for the rest of the team. Instead, she opted to search for the less obvious devices.
Gina looked from left to right as they moved, scanning for any sign of threats or explosives. “What I wouldn’t give for a Sarkosian rover right about now,” she said.
The explosive sniffing creatures of Sarkos were famous for their sense of smell, athleticism, and ability to be trained. Combat units throughout the known worlds made use of them for situations just like this.
“One would have come in handy,” Shane agreed. She guessed there was a limit even to what Silvio Lima could secure on short notice.
“Remember,” Gina growled. “If it looks like its tamper proof, don’t touch it.”
Shane saw no reason to remind her significant other that if Ramsey’s remote detonator was still in play, touching the devices wouldn’t matter. With that detonator, these things could blow at any second.
The small assault team spread out, with most of the group behind them identifying and inspecting the obvious explosives. Shane, Gina, and Shemi ventured further in, going straight for the massive exhaust port. That was the most likely location for a bomb. Shane didn’t know whether she was happy or horrified when they arrived there and found what they were looking for—the largest of the devices, placed smack-dab in the center of where it would do the most damage.
Gina walked up to the explosive device, a flat black hexagon, roughly the size of a backpack. It hung attached to the exhaust port like a limpet on a spaceship hull. “Jee-zus,” she uttered, examining the ominous looking device. “This one alone would have done the trick. All the other ones are just overkill. Damn. . .look at the size of that thing.”
Shane eyed the device. It boasted a simple cover with several latches. She leaned in for a closer look. Gina took her by the shoulder, pulling her back.
“You sure you wanna get that close to that thing, babe?”
The red glow from underneath the cover seemed to serve as a warning. Shane’s eyes narrowed. “I think we have to,” she said.
“I do not like it,” Shemi said. “But I would have to agree with Shane.”
“I’m going to open it,” Shane said.
She took a deep breath. Slowly, she unlatched the cover
and eased it from the bomb’s lower casing. Her heart dropped at the sight of a large set of digital numbers. Numbers that were decreasing with alarming speed.
“There’s a timer,” she said. “You were right Gina. This has to be the main explosive.”
Gina swore a blue streak.
Shane could see her girlfriend doing the mental gymnastics. Could they evacuate the hotel in time? Could they disarm it? And if not, could they escape in time themselves?
Shane was pretty sure she knew the answer to that last one.
Gina frowned. She turned to Shemi. “What about that subspace thing you invented? The one Anesu used to hide that piece of circuit board last year? Can’t we use that on these bombs?”
Shemi shook his head. “I am sorry. The subspace device does not work like that. The range is limited.” He held up his hands. “I was only ordered to come along for my knowledge of pulse technology. I am no bomb expert. That was Chege.” Shemi hung his head. “And now he is gone.”
Suddenly the comms burst to life. “—I repeat. Do you read?”
“TOC?” Gina asked, a look of disbelief on her face. The comms reaching down here through the duracrete was a miracle. “Shit, old man—am I glad to hear from you.”
“Likewise Razor two. One of the auxiliary elements managed to set up a relay at the top of the sublevel.”
“Copy,” Gina said. “What about Ramsey’s remote detonator?”
“I am afraid we have not been able to reach Razor One for a status update.”
“Great,” Gina groaned. “Afraid I got some bad news, too. The devices are on a backup timer.”
“Can our auxiliary element disarm it?” Lima asked without missing a beat. He hadn’t gotten the word about Chege.
Gina shook her head. “That . . . that asset is down, TOC.”
“I see,” Lima replied. There was a pause. “Is there no one left in the sublevels with any technical ability?”
“No,” Gina replied. “Not an EOD tech.”
“Who remaining has the most technical skill?” Lima asked.