Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  As exciting as it was to watch Sera work, John didn’t have the time at the moment. He had his own threats to focus on. The air was filled with bolts of actinic energy from the trooper arm cannons; some of them were getting pretty close, leaving behind the smell of burnt ozone. He had almost reached the line of Kriegers on the left when he abruptly changed course, juking hard to the right at the last one in line and furthest from him. That would buy him a precious second. Concentrating as he ran, he thrust out his left arm, a solid beam of plasma arcing and hitting the Krieger he had initially been running at. The helmet was burned away, leaving the decapitated body taking another step before crashing forward. When he glanced over at Sera, or rather, where Sera had been, there was a suit of armor fused to the rubble and she was already in the air again.

  Three down for me, three to go for each of us. Let’s rock an’ roll! John reached the two he had juked towards. He enveloped both in a wide blast of flame; not too intense, but enough to keep them occupied and weaken them slightly. He killed it right before he reached them. Both troopers quickly scanned, reacquired, and started tracking him with their arm cannons; they were well trained, at the very least. John took a chance, running to the middle of the pair. Another blast of flame at the visor of the one at the left while shouldering into the one on the right. He didn’t budge it much, and the impact with the heated metal of the trooper armor left the shoulder of his jacket smoldering, but he was in close enough that it couldn’t blast him now. The other one was starting to recover, while the trooper he was against was trying to give him a lethal bear hug. John took a step, and launched off of its knee hard enough to send him above the eye level of the left-most Krieger. It looked up in time for another blast of flame, followed by a lance of concentrated plasma in a glancing hit to its left shoulder; a wound instead of a killing blow. John landed in front of it, crouched under, and then ran behind the still blinded Krieger. Unable to see and in pain, the trooper’s training failed, and he started firing wildly at the last spot it had seen John; directly in front of it.Two blasts from the arm cannon obliterated the Krieger across from it, leaving smoldering bits scattered for half the length of a football field. John didn’t wait for the remaining Krieger to realize its mistake; he fired another weakening blast of flame at the back of its head, drew his pistol, and then emptied the magazine at the base of the helmet, punching a ragged and smoking hole through. John had to dodge out of the way to avoid being crushed by the falling armor.

  Vic seemed to be working on the right now; screwing with the two Kriegers that Sera was harassing. Rather than taking them straight on, Sera was waiting until one was off-balance, darting in to slash at him with the sword at one of the vulnerable spots, then darting away again. Every time she came in close, her fire flared up in the Krieger’s visor, momentarily blinding him. Eventually she was going to manage to cut through something, he reckoned, and meanwhile, the creatures inside those suits must have been soiling themselves with fear.

  Just as he thought that, she suddenly launched straight up into the air above and between them. She got up about a thousand feet, then dropped again, sword in right hand, spear in the left.

  Again, she was using her weight and the momentum of her fall, and she had flared to blue-white hot once more. He had just about enough time to take that in, when she hit.

  The white-hot spear transfixed the one on her left, going in at the point where the neck met the shoulder, one of the vulnerable spots. The sword bisected the helmet of the one on the right. They were falling as she dissolved her weapons and sprang away. She headed up into the air again; her fires had faded, and her wingbeats looked labored.

  The final two troopers had moved to the middle of the destruction corridor, standing back to back. That won’t save you, fellas. John, his enhancements still keyed up, sprinted straight for the Krieger facing him. Just as the invader raised his arm cannons, John opened up with a large blast of flame, then jinked left. The trooper, armor weakening and temporarily unable to see, fired where John had been, sending up showers of rubble. John kept up the speed until he was right in front of the trooper, coming up short. He had a brainstorm; pausing, he ramped up the fires on his right arm, hotter than he could ever remember attempting before. He had to close his eyes and turn his head the fires were so bright. Then he pushed his hand through the front of the trooper’s armor, going in its chest and out its back. John staggered backwards, partially from the intense heat and partially because of the drain he felt from ramping up that much. His skin felt blistered and some of his hair smelled singed just from the residual heat, since he was protected from his own fires but not from what they might burn. Past the afterimage that was somewhat clouding his vision he could see the remains of the armor; the features were melted and the joints fused in place, leaving it standing in a horrid death rictus, the occupant very dead. The scene looked strikingly familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew it from.

  Vic had been freed to concentrate on the remaining trooper, and had somehow managed to encase him to the waist in rubble. Must be giving Sera a break. As fast as the trooper struggled free, she piled more on him, and seemed to be opening up a hole underneath him at the same time, because he kept dropping lower. Or was she somehow turning the surface under him into a sort of quicksand?

  “Just stay where you are, you rat bastard,” Vickie snarled in John’s ear, as the trooper sank a little more. “I know where your air intakes are…”

  Suddenly, the trooper’s movements got a lot more frantic. He was chest-deep now, and the rubble was…pulverizing, somehow. Getting finer. Neck deep and his head was moving as if the suit was possessed.

  Then there was nothing but a pile of fine sand about the height of John’s waist. It was still moving as he watched…then…it wasn’t.

  “Not bad at all,” John panted. He was doubled over, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. Still, he managed to give Sera a thumbs-up before wiping his brow of sweat and ash. Sera landed heavily beside him; she was panting too, and all of her fires were gone.

  “You…achieved creditable success, John Murdock,” she managed, between gasping breaths. Better’n I’ve heard from her in…well, ever. Progress.

  “Thank ya, ma’am. Y’get some points for the assist, too, Teen Witch. Just remind me to have you on speed dial to handle sand traps if I ever take up golf.”

  “That’s grounds for an ass-whuppin’, pinhead,” she shot back. “Uh…hey, aren’t we forgetting something?”

  As if that had been a cue, the monstrous mechanical wolf burst out of hiding. It must have been lurking just inside the hole it had dug out, waiting while they finished off the troopers. It headed straight for the two of them. Why the hell would it have been waiting? John didn’t have time to pursue that line of thought.

  It was fast, much faster than the troopers had been. John tried to fire off a blast and completely missed it; he hardly ever missed with his fire. Sera tried a slash to its flank as they flung themselves to either side, and nearly got hit by a paw for her troubles.

  While John recovered and tried to get some distance and figure out how to handle this monster, Sera moved in to distract it. She couldn’t close with it, or it would certainly catch her. The most she could do was “dance” with it, a strange and deadly sort of ballet, half on the ground and half in the air, feinting, striking with sword or spear, before darting away out of reach again.

  She can’t keep that up forever; we’re both flagging. With how fast the wolf was moving, he didn’t have time to charge up a shot; he could only weaken it with flame, and even then he risked hitting Sera. But if she stopped her deadly distraction, it would focus on him, and probably get him. Think! He had to do something. John glanced frantically around. The Ural! Oh, Saviour’s going to have kittens over this one. He ran for the Ural, jumping onto the seat and turning the ignition. His hands flew over the latches on the case holding the modified RPG and its warheads; he left them in the case, but went ahead and removed t
he safeties. The warheads themselves were impact detonated; even though they’d need to be shot from the launcher to actually arm, John figured that what he was about to do still had a decent chance of kicking off the payload.

  “This is either a fuckin’ genius move, or I’m a goddamned moron.”

  Sera seemed to be reading his mind again. Suddenly she shot off like an arrow, speeding along at barely head-height, with the wolf in hot pursuit, leading it down what passed for the road, away from John. He gunned the throttle, sending the Ural hurtling forward. He turned the handles sharply, bouncing and skidding over rubble as he pursued Sera. It only took him a few seconds before he reached the fastest he could safely go over the rubble; he gave it a little extra acceleration anyway.

  Sera and the wolf had been pulling away from him. Now she executed a hairpin turn by touching down, pulling her wings in tight, and somersaulting in the air like a gymnast, coming out pointed towards John. The wolf, caught off-guard by this, skidded for several yards before managing to reverse and pursue her again as she headed straight at John and the bike at full speed. She pulled up suddenly just at what John considered to be the last possible second—

  He dove from the speeding motorcycle, twisting in the air. Time seemed to slow down as he took aim, charging his fires in the split second before the motorcycle impacted with the leading paw of the mechanical wolf. Snapping off the shot, he saw it hit perfectly on the warheads in the sidecar case; he had enough time to tuck and roll before the explosion completely engulfed the wolf. He hit the ground hard, and even with the jacket and the nanoweave he could feel the broken bits of brick and concrete biting into his arms, shoulders, and back. Confirm the kill, jackass; even if it hurts, you gotta get up. Groaning, he peeled himself from the ground. The wolf was still there, but it wasn’t doing well at all. The paw that the motorcycle had connected with was completely gone, jagged and sparking metal twisting up into the wolf’s shoulder joint. The rest of it was still ablaze with the compound from the RPGs, thick and oily smoke rising into the air.

  Sera touched down, as the remaining legs of the wolf suddenly stopped moving. Or rather, they were moving as if they were stuck in mud or quicksand.

  “I’ll hold it, you hit it!” Vic said in his ear, and Sera acted on the command by darting in and daring a slash at a rear leg, staying well clear of the jaws. The wolf was knee-deep in the ground now, and there Vic seemed to be stuck with her efforts, since it didn’t sink any more.

  “I hardened the ground like cement around the legs, that’s the best I can do. It moves too fast and it’s too strong even on three legs for me to manage anything other than a temporary hold.”

  John trotted over, centering himself in front of the wolf. Even damaged and immobilized it was trying to thrash from side to side to free itself.

  “Let’s finish the bastard.” John started charging up his fires, letting them build along both arms. Sera went airborne again; it was clear she was exhausted, but it was also clear she was grimly determined to do her part in killing this monster. Once she was in the air the wolf seemed to forget about her; it concentrated on John, optics glaring balefully at him. That gave Sera a chance to come in behind it, in its blind spot, while it was unaware she had returned.

  With anyone else he would have counted down; somehow he knew he didn’t have to with her. They were moving and acting like a single person. As he thought that, she manifested her spear, and dropped down onto the thing’s back, ramming the fiery weapon through its spine at the join where shoulder-blades would have been on a real wolf. At that same moment he released his fires, joining the concentrated blast on a single point at the back of the wolf’s mechanical throat. Sera leapt off of the wolf’s back, beating her wings furiously. The wolf shuddered once before its main body exploded in a too-loud whump that swatted John and Sera, the pressure wave washing over them. The mechanical beast finally settled to the ground, the optics dead and staring at nothing.

  And only then did the snarl of approaching Urals signal that the “cavalry” was about to arrive.

  “Right on time.” John stood up to his full height, brushing off his uniform before standing at parade rest. Sera touched down to land beside him; as she stood there, at nothing like a military posture, her wings drooped with weariness.

  Russian chatter came over the CCCP frequency, some Gamayun, but most of it was Red Saviour’s barked orders. Urals rolled in from three directions in groups of three, one of the trios followed by the battered CCCP van. Saviour appeared in the sky a moment later, using whatever crazy-ass meta power she had for flying. She touched down in front of the Urals, still talking, as the CCCP troops spread out, taking cover.

  But as soon as it became evident that the fight was over, they all broke cover and gathered behind Saviour. Untermensch looked put out—probably because he had missed an opportunity to kick Thulian teeth in. Bear was doing his best Golden Girls impression to try to comfort his friend.

  Saviour stalked up to John, ignoring Sera. “How many? Why were you not waiting for backing up?” she barked, frowning. Looked like she was just as pissed as Untermensch at missing out on the fight.

  John did his level best to resist smirking. Even though it had been a hairy fight, he’d had…fun. “After makin’ entry into the suspected Krieger outpost we had indications of an imminent threat to an innocent. We had to act right then an’ there; turned out to be a kid that had strayed a little too far into the corridor.” He glanced over at Sera. “There also turned out to be seven unarmored personnel and then twelve troopers. Oh, an’ the wolf over there.” He indicated towards the smoldering pile of metal with his chin. “All destroyed. The outpost looks like it was gettin’ expanded by the wolf, but we won’t know for sure what they were doin’ unless we excavate the entire mess. Vickie helped bury the bastards while supportin’ us.”

  The Commissar kept her expression neutral. She muttered a moment, probably talking with Victrix. That was borne out by Saviour’s next words as she speared him with her eyes. “Have consulted with Daughter of Rasputin; she concurs with your numbers and your conclusions.” She paused, looking around at the destruction. “Satisfactory work. For a couple of Amerikanski.” That was fairly high praise coming from Saviour. “Horosho,” she added.

  Then she looked around again, mouth moving as if she was counting. She frowned faintly. “Where is being Ural?” she asked sharply.

  John shrugged. “Couldn’t tell y’exactly where, Commissar. It was a chaotic fight…” It wasn’t technically a lie; the Ural was spread around a lot of ground, to be certain. She got a brief “listening” look on her face. Victrix again? Gamayun?

  “Yebat’ vashu mat’,” she said with resignation. “Nevermind. Excoriation, paperwork, you know what to do. Help clean up mess, then report to HQ.”

  * * *

  “I presume we walk,” said Sera, wearily. “Of course, I could rest here and then fly, while you return.” She shrugged, as if it were a matter of indifference to her. “I presume one of the comrades would carry you double.”

  It had taken them three hours of hard work before they were done helping with the clean up and cataloguing efforts at the crime scene. They were both grimy with ash and dirt, and there was still after action reports and other assorted paperwork to fill out.

  “Naw, let’s walk. Give us a chance to go over things, hash ’em out ’fore we get back to HQ.”

  Her brow creased. “Why would we need to? All should be clear in your mind.”

  John barked an exasperated laugh. “It is! But would it kill ya to chat for a few minutes, or are y’that eager to fill out more forms in triplicate?”

  She shrugged again. “I speak to Vickie’s machine. It does that.”

  “Well, I don’t wanna get back in any sort of hurry. Besides, I’m starvin’. Let’s see what we can rustle up on the way back. Okay?” He didn’t want to let on how much he needed to talk with her. If past performance was any indicator, he knew that she’d be tempted to bolt if he g
ot too serious with her this early. Best to soften things up first, keep it light, focus on the professional stuff a bit.

  She pulled her wings in tight. “As you wish,” she replied, making it perfectly clear without saying anything that she really would rather have been alone. Every other time, he had been willing to let her get away with that. Not this time.

  Goddamnit, this isn’t going to be easy. Like much of anything with her has been, save for that fight. Hell with it.

  “Stick around, let’s get a bite and talk a bit. Take that as an order if’n y’like, for your own good.”

  She nodded solemnly. “As you will.”

  They walked for a good fifteen minutes; the large destruction corridor eventually gave way to “John’s hood”; people were out and about, going on with their lives. Many of them waved at him; he’d been spending more time away from the barracks, interacting with the people that he was responsible for protecting. It was occasionally awkward, as he didn’t remember some of them from “before,” but for the most part everyone was understanding. Having all of these people recognize him, and be happy to see him, took some getting used to. But he enjoyed it. He had always liked helping people; he loved serving in the military, and though the quasi-law enforcement gig that working with the CCCP had turned into, it had certain parallels to his old life that satisfied him.