Messenger

by James Walker

  “Next up, equipment assignments. The best exosuit at our disposal is Sergeant Celeste's Arrow-3. During her escape from T.U. Spacy, her Black Wind add-ons sustained the bulk of the damage, leaving the core suit largely unscathed. As Celeste is undoubtedly the most qualified to operate this suit, she will be its pilot.

  “Since our cell's primary mission is piracy operations, our ground forces are a bit thin. We've got three exosuits dedicated to land warfare. The Grenadier, our only two-seater, goes to Corporal Shown and Astral. The other two, a pair of T-80s, go to Major Cutter and Sergeant Northwood. Colonel Artega and Captain Tinubu will be outfitted with Ar­mor Frogs. They're designed for both land and sea operations, but for this mission, we've specially tuned them for ground combat.

  “The rest of you have been assigned to an understrength infantry platoon under the command of Sergeant Harper. You'll be equipped with the best weapons and armor we can scrounge up and inserted via transport VTOL. A second VTOL carrying a platoon of reprogrammed Union battle drones will be deployed for backup.

  “Any questions?”

  Astral spoke up. “Please,” she said, looking imploringly around the room, “don't underestimate Falsrain. He has become something much more than human, and much less. Once he's cornered, he will deploy every power he's gained from his contract with Scathe.”

  Eliot grinned at Astral. “But that's why you're coming with us, isn't it, little lady?”

  Astral returned Eliot's levity with a grave tone. “I can prevent him from controlling your minds,” she said. “But he may have gained other abilities that I can't so easily interfere with.”

  *

  One by one, the exosuits and VTOLs of the assault team were loaded into the cargo bay of the Skyfish. A torrent of water rushed in to fill the giant hangar. While Vic waited for the vessel to commence takeoff, Tinubu's face appeared in the corner of his screen.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “before we launch, I just wanted to say, it's an honor to have served with you all.”

  Cena's face appeared next to Tinubu's. “Don't say stuff like that, Captain,” she scolded. “It makes it sound like none of us are coming back.”

  “I didn't mean it that way,” Tinubu replied. “Only that this is likely to be the finest squadron I'll ever have the privilege to fight with.”

  “Better believe it,” Cena said. “If Falsrain thinks superior numbers will be enough to keep him safe, he's in for an unpleasant surprise when we cut through that sorry garrison like scythes through rotten wheat.”

  Guntar's face appeared next. “What about you, Sergeant?” he asked. “How well can you fight after wiping your firmware configuration?”

  Celeste's scarred countenance blinked into existence. “Don't worry,” she said in her usual quiet monotone. “Fighting comes naturally to me. I never needed the artificial aggression provided by the firmware enhancements.”

  “What about fighting against your former comrades?” Guntar pressed. “Maybe they are P.S.A., but they're Union soldiers all the same.”

  “I'll do what needs to be done,” Celeste said. “Besides, the P.S.A. didn't exactly go out of their way to endear themselves to me.”

  Guntar grunted.

  “You know,” Pierson broke into the conversation, “it occurs to me that we have two former Union officers and several native-born Theran citizens. Maybe a good name for us would be the Turncoats.”

  “The Turncoats?” Tinubu sounded amused by the idea.

  “I kind of like it,” Cena said. “Really rubs it in the Union's face that they're getting their asses kicked by their own troops.”

  “Works for me,” Guntar said. “That will be our call sign, then.”

  One by one, the transmissions cut off. A clang echoed through the hull and the rumble of the pumps ceased. A moment later, Amos' face appeared on Vic's screen.

  “Launch preparations are complete,” he announced. “Prepare for departure.”

  57

  The Skyfish glided quietly out of Inverted Sound into the adjoining ocean and turned south, following the western shore of the Krizeen Strait. After several hours, Amos announced, “We're getting close. Assault team, brace for deployment.”

  “This is it.” Vic tightened his grip on the controls.

  The Skyfish's engines rose to a howl and the passengers were subjected to a sudden onset of intense g-forces. The vessel exploded out of the water just off the coast and rocketed over the skyscrapers of the capital. The skeletal frame that comprised the Golden Ward's partially dismantled containment dome swelled in the external feed. Suddenly, a swarm of missiles rocketed into view as the Skyfish opened fire. An immediate response came in the form of automated rotary guns and surface-to-air missile batteries mounted on the dome's exterior, spray­ing a curtain of defensive fire at the oncoming barrage.

  The hatch at the rear of the cargo bay swung open and Vic found himself in free-fall as the Skyfish ejected the two transport VTOLs and six glider-equipped exosuits. Vic activated his glider's airfoils and took his place in the formation. Tracer rounds, arcing missiles, and explosions flew all around him, mostly targeted at the missiles that the Sky­fish had fired. As they drew near the hexagonal framework of the dome's outer layer, Celeste's Arrow-3 opened fire with its plasma rifle, blasting the nearest anti-air emplacements into melted slag.

  The assault team passed through the dome's framework and found themselves floating above the Golden Ward. The soaring skyscraper of Qilin Palace's central structure stood defiantly before them. A feeling of dread swept over Vic at the sight of it. The thought came unbidden to his mind that they had just entered a demon's lair. The very air seemed to grow oppressive, rejecting their presence with every fiber of its essence.

  Three missiles from the Skyfish that had managed to penetrate the ferocious anti-air defenses flew over their heads. One of the missiles streaked past the skyscraper and out of sight, while the other two struck the top of the immense structure, consuming it in a giant fireball.

  “Hell yes,” Cena exclaimed. “No air-lifting out for that bastard now.”

  “OK, everyone stay in formation and watch your handling,” Guntar said. “The descent is about to get hairy.”

  The reason for the warning quickly became apparent as the assault team descended into the maze of skyscrapers that surrounded the governor's palace. Vic's breath caught in his throat and his muscles stiffened instinctively in response to the glass and steel walls rising to either side. Gusts of wind tried to force him into the sides of the buildings, necessitating dozens of subtle course corrections. Hair-raising, right-angle turns at the intersections further added to the danger of the descent. The entire time, the ground rose ever higher to meet the descending force.

  “Almost there,” Tinubu said. The edge in his voice reflected Vic's own unease. “One more turn, then it's just another few blocks to—”

  As soon as the assault team rounded the next corner, a burst of machine gun fire greeted them. With frantic evasive maneuvers, the exo­suits managed to avoid the shots as they swept through the squadron's formation and tore a line of holes in the adjacent buildings.

  “Shit,” Guntar exclaimed. “We've got to land now! Jettison your gliders and use your thrusters to soften the landing!”

  Vic jettisoned his glider and dropped into free-fall just as another burst of fire raked a few meters over his head. He fired his thrusters at full blast an instant before hitting the ground, but the impact still jarred the suit, sending a wrenching force up his spine. The rest of the squadron fell around him with similarly rough landings.

  “You OK, Astral?” he shouted.

  “I'm fine,” she answered. “Don't worry about me.”

  Vic started to aim his weapons at the source of the barrages when he noticed a plume of smoke from above. He looked up and saw the transport VTOL carrying the infantry forces zooming over their heads, smoke pouring from its damaged hull. The transport weaved back and forth, then struck the side of a building and ric
ocheted onto the ground, where it spun in two full circles before skidding to a halt several blocks away, in the midst of the approaching enemy forces.

  “The infantry team,” Vic shouted. “Eliot's in there!”

  “Full frontal assault,” Guntar ordered. “We're going to rescue them. Charge!”

  Pierson and Celeste led the charge, weapons flashing as they raced ahead of the others. After an instant's hesitation, Vic fell in behind them, firing a stream of rounds from his rotary gun along with a barrage of missiles at the enemies amassing up the street.

  *

  Eliot was surprised to find himself lying underneath a cloudy sky stained with a prism of mysterious colors. The crash had thrown him outside the transport. He saw a large-caliber machine gun lying a short distance away and reached for it. The movement sent a spasm of pain through his body, making him flinch. He glanced down his supine form and his eyes widened in horror at a large piece of debris jutting out of his torso, staining his armor with blood.

  “Sergeant Harper,” someone shouted from nearby. “Sergeant, you need medical attention!”

  Eliot became aware of a flurry of activity around him. Miraculously, over half of the infantry unit had survived the crash. They were scrambling to assemble their weapons and tend to the wounded, ignoring the screaming civilians fleeing the street in a panic. Then several bullets ricocheted off the ground a few meters away, and Eliot looked back and forth to see groups of enemy infantry and battle drones approaching from both directions.

  “I'll go get the medic,” the nearby trooper said, and started to turn away.

  “Wait.” With a stab of pain, Eliot sat up and extended his hand, grabbing the soldier by the wrist.

  “But Sergeant,” the soldier objected, “that wound needs to be treated right aw—”

  “You aren't treating shit,” Eliot said. “We're sitting ducks here. We stop to patch ourselves up, and the enemy will cut us to pieces. Besides, from the look of this wound, I don't think there's much the medic can do for me.”

  The soldier stared at Eliot, uncomprehending.

  “Grab the wounded and take cover inside the buildings,” Eliot ordered. “I'll hold the enemy here.”

  The soldier just kept staring at him. He cursed inwardly. Had the shock of the crash rattled the kid's marbles?

  “Do it,” he snarled, giving the soldier a push. “There's no time!”

  Shaken from his momentary stupor, the soldier relayed Eliot's orders to the rest of the unit, who grabbed their wounded comrades and started falling back. Cursing in pain, Eliot crawled over to the machine gun, secured it to its tripod, and fed in the belt of ammunition. Bullets continued ricocheting off the ground around him. With a howl of agony, he ripped the debris out of his flesh, grabbed the machine gun, and rolled to the side, taking cover behind a large piece of debris. He leaned out from behind his cover and opened fire on the approaching enemies.

  The heavy rounds of the machine gun tore into the enemy battle drone that was leading the charge, reducing it to a pile of sparking scrap. To Eliot's surprise, the infantry coming up behind it did not dive for cover, but continued their advance. As he raked their line with fire, they drew close enough that he could make out their features, and he recoiled in horror.

  The enemy soldiers no longer possessed the faces of humans. Their skin had grown shriveled and pulled tight over their skulls, revealing the contours of their skeletal structure. Their mouths hung open in slack-jawed, silent howls of despair. Where their eyes should have been, Eliot saw only deep shadows.

  “What the fuck is this?” he shouted, his words lost in the din of gunfire. “Did Falsrain turn the entire garrison into monsters?”

  He continued sweeping the machine gun back and forth, cutting down the deformed soldiers and battle drones as they tried to advance from the north. Bullets ricocheted around his head and caromed off the debris serving as his cover. Finally, a bullet struck him in the shoulder; and though his armor absorbed most of the blow, the impact knocked him away from the machine gun. He glanced behind him and saw several friendly exosuits carving a path through the southern enemy force. He turned back to continue manning the machine gun when a grenade bounced off the ground two meters away and exploded, peppering him with shrapnel at point-blank range.

  “I knew it,” he wheezed, staring up at the sky, a pool of blood expanding around him. “Damned one-way trip.”

  Then his eyes glazed over, and be breathed his last.

  *

  The exosuit squadron continued their advance, pouring massive fire into the enemy forces approaching from the north. Several bodies of rebel soldiers lay around the smoking wreckage of the transport, but the majority of them had survived the crash and taken cover inside the surrounding buildings.

  “Looks like we made it in time,” Guntar said. “The transport carrying the reprogrammed battle drones just touched down to the east. We'll link up with the drones and blast our way through the front gate of the palace.”

  Vic continued spraying fire through the enemy force. At first, he could not fathom why they didn't retreat in the face of such overwhelming firepower. Then he noticed the twisted features on the sol­diers' faces and nearly choked in revulsion.

  “What the,” he stammered. “Those soldiers—what the hell happened to them?”

  “Scathe,” Astral said, her voice tinged with sorrow. “As it consumes the thoughts of its host, even the physical vessel is reduced to a shriveled husk.”

  Finally, the squadron reached the next intersection. They paused briefly to give the infantry time to catch up while their reprogrammed battle drones took position in front. Guntar intended for the drones to act as the vanguard so as to take the brunt of the casualties while the exosuits provided the bulk of the firepower and the infantry supported from the rear.

  “The operation is going according to plan so far,” Guntar said. “Now let's hit them hard and fast, before the garrison has time to mount a major counterattack.”

  At Guntar's signal, the battle drones scampered off in the direction of the palatial complex, swarming like insects. As Vic fell into step behind them, he looked up at the towering visage of the palace's central structure, its upper levels billowing smoke from where the Skyfish's missiles had struck it. Their surprise attack had enabled them to penetrate the outer defenses. But the great ordeal, he feared, was yet to come.

  58

  Falsrain stood at the window in the governor's office, staring at the clouds of smoke rising above the buildings just outside the villa. Liumei stood next to him, staring blankly into space with heavy shadows under her eyes. Her skin had tightened over her bones, ruining the appearance of her normally healthy figure.

  For an instant, a trace of transcendent malice flickered within Falsrain's narrow eyes. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned to see Ridley walking toward him. Liumei mimicked Falsrain's movement, turning to stare uncomprehendingly at Ridley.

  “My lady,” Ridley said, “I have received a report on the enemy attack. After analyzing their force composition, I've concluded that they are most likely from the Sarisan Liberty Coalition.”

  “SLIC, is it?” Falsrain said. “So now that Spacy has been defeated, the rebels want to take their turn at deposing me?”

  Liumei asked in a mechanical tone, “What's their strength?”

  “Their numbers are small,” Ridley said, “but the core of their force consists of an elite exosuit squadron. I believe they are a greater threat than their numbers alone would indicate.”

  “An attack by a small team of special forces,” Falsrain mused. “It's a well-conceived plan, but their only hope for victory lies in speed.”

  Liumei slurred, “Contact the base and tell them to send all available units.”

  “Already done,” Ridley replied.

  Falsrain nodded. “Good.”

  “Tell them to send aerial transport, as well,” Liumei droned on. “Have it put down in the courtyard.”

  “If worse
comes to worst,” Falsrain added, “I'll use it to evacuate.”

  Ridley nodded. “Understood, my lady.”

  Falsrain swept his arm out in a dramatic gesture. Liumei limply mimicked his movement and said, “Now, gather the palace guard and go forth to meet the enemy. You need only hold them off long enough for reinforcements from the base to arrive and crush them with overwhelming numbers.”

  Ridley paused. “Holding them off is fine,” he said slowly, “but I presume that annihilating them would be acceptable as well?”

  A devilish smile split Falsrain's face. “It would indeed.”

  “It would indeed,” Liumei echoed him; then added, with a slight trace of life, “my love.”

  Falsrain's smile widened. “My puppet.”

  *

  A fresh wave of defenders composed of more battle drones and deformed soldiers swarmed out of the Qilin Palace's front gate to intercept the oncoming rebels. The rebels' reprogrammed drones took the brunt of the enemy's fire, disabling most of them, while supporting fire from their exosuits and infantry laid waste to the defenders. After the brief skirmish, Vic blasted the gate to pieces with a missile, laying bare the gigantic outer courtyard.

  “We're in,” Tinubu exclaimed, leading the charge through the destroyed gate. “Now let's drag Falsrain out; and if he stays holed up in­side like the coward he is, we'll use our explosive charges to level the whole buil—”

  The legs from Tinubu's exosuit bounced across the ground as they were abruptly severed by an unseen force. His suit's torso remained hanging in mid-air while the arms were sliced off, followed by the head. Finally the torso was flung violently to the side, tearing up the carefully tended grounds until it smashed into the wall and lay still.