Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Djinni!” Scope yelled, as Mel ran over to check her work. “We got a problem!”

  “Of course we do!” Red snarled as he leaned over the railing above them. “God forbid things ever go smoothly with this outfit!”

  “The detonators aren’t registering!” Scope cried. “They’re all reading connection errors!”

  “What, did you get the contacts dirty?” Red asked.

  “Of course not!”

  “Your pack’s been clanking ever since we left base camp!” Red scolded her. “You should have secured them better, we haven’t been out for a gentle stroll, y’know. They probably got messed up in transit.”

  “A little jostling wouldn’t have done this, Red, and you know it!” Scope shouted.

  “She’s right,” Mel said. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

  “Then what’s causing it?” Red demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Scope screamed. “And we really don’t have time to suss it out!”

  “We’re going to have to make time,” Red replied, grimly. “Unless we get the timers going, there’s no way to get them to blow in sync unless it’s manually.”

  “Even that’s a long shot, Red,” Mel warned. “If you’re off by even a millisecond, you risk only partial detonation. Might not be enough to bring this baby down.”

  “I know,” the Djinni said. “I’m open to other…”

  “There’s someone moving up there,” Silent Knight interrupted from the door. “I’m seeing shadows milling around at the top.”

  “Oh perfect,” Djinni muttered as he joined the armored man. He snuck a peek up the shaft. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of armored Kriegers at the top, heard a few shouts of alarm, and the telltale echo of clattering boots slamming down on the grated staircase. Slowly, he crept out into the open shaft to get a better look, doing his best to keep hidden under the circular stairs.

  “Can’t get a decent count,” he hissed. “More than one, can’t be more than ten.”

  Knight joined him and extended a hand out towards the centre of the shaft. After a moment, he shook his armored head, regretfully. “We’re too far away,” he whispered. “My readings can’t make out how many footsteps, sorry.”

  “Too much interference from the generator,” Mel agreed as she slipped in behind them, her scanner in hand. “They’re moving together, can’t pick out the individual energy signatures.”

  “There’s only two of them.”

  Red Djinni turned. Scope stood in the doorway, her features almost indiscernible as the bright light of the chamber at her back cast the rest of her in shadow. She glanced up again, nodded in confirmation, and looked back at Red. She sighed, and her shoulders sagged a bit as she stepped back through the portal.

  “Scope, what are you…?”

  “I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” she said. “Fifteen minutes to fight your way out. After that, I’m going to blow it.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Red snarled. “We can…”

  “No,” she interrupted. “This has to happen, and now. There’s too much at stake. Our guys are being picked off up there without the cavalry. There’s enough on my head already, it’s time to get this assault moving.” She sighed again, then straightened up. “What’s Bull always say? Rise up. Tell him for me, won’t you? Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I know what a colossal screw-up I’ve been. Tell him what I did. I think he’d want to know.”

  And before Red could say another word, Scope reached for the door and slammed it shut. The security panel lit up, and a stream of red LEDs flashed before turning a bright, steady green.

  “Scope!” Red hissed. “Scope, open that goddamn door and you…”

  She appeared at a small eye slit in the door. She blinked slowly, and appeared utterly calm.

  “Fifteen minutes,” she repeated. “You’d better get moving.”

  And then she was gone.

  Red Team: Ultima Thule

  With Blacksnake acting as support, Red Team was starting to make real progress. They had continued to encounter Krieger resistance, but with the added firepower from the private contractors the team was able to push through. Blacksnake had their own version of the CCCP/ECHO incendiary rounds; theirs required two separate shells, each containing a different gel-like substance. The Blacksnake versions were just as effective, though it was tricky getting the two shells to hit at nearly the same place. Several of the other teams had already linked up, including some of the SOF groups. Despite the breathing room bought by Blacksnake taking over and then taking out the strange Thulian artillery, there had been multiple casualties suffered on several of the teams. No names were mentioned, but John Murdock didn’t like the tones he was hearing over the comm. Can’t focus on that now. We gotta drive on.

  They were about four blocks away from the main contingent of meta teams when the ambush came. The Kriegers had found some way to be partially shielded from the eyes overhead; they didn’t show up on the HUDs until they sprang from their ambush positions to attack. Three Blacksnake operatives were instantly taken out by energy blasts. Immediately the mercs and Red Team scattered, assaulting through the ambush positions on the sides of the street; the Kriegers, all unarmored, fell quickly. Molotok, who was in the lead, took a burst of machinegun fire to the chest. Confused and staggered for only a moment, he raised his rifle and shot the offending Krieger dead, causing him to fall from a roof onto the street before.

  “What was that? I thought Kriegers only were using energy weapons?” He rubbed his chest, noting the holes the bullets and their splatter had ripped in his load bearing equipment; otherwise, due to his resiliency and the nanoweave shirt he was wearing, he was unharmed.

  Unter, peeking his head around the corner where the team had formed up, looked at the body of the dead Krieger, then grunted. “MP40. Before your time, tovarisch, but I became…well acquainted with it. Must being an antique.”

  Bear clicked his tongue, firing off a burst from his PPSh. “Inferior fascista garbage. Still no match for superior Soviet persuader. They used to try to capture these from the battlefield, recognizing—”

  “Be quiet, old Bear,” came a chorus, not only from the CCCP comrades, but from three or four of the Blacksnake who were near enough both to hear Bear begin and to have picked up on the phrase by now.

  Molotok threw a grenade, waiting for the explosion and attendant Krieger shouts before he called into Overwatch. “Open: Khanjar. Khanjar, what is your disposition?”

  Vix had seamlessly integrated the Blacksnake comm with the Overwatch system. “Other side of the street. We have a total of three down, two injured. Trooper armor is advancing down the street.” John saw four Blacksnake mercs suddenly emerge from side alleys, shouldering RPGs, aiming, and firing in quick succession. “Correction. Trooper armor neutralized. Resistance should fold shortly.” He had to give the Blacksnake operatives their due. They were good.

  Khanjar, however, was a cut above. With the trooper armor down, she rushed a Thulian position; three of them were crouched behind a fallen column of that same marble-like substance, where they had been taking potshots at the Red Team’s side of the street. Efficiently, she vaulted over the cover the Kriegers had been using, landing among them in a low crouch. Before any of them could react with more than a gasp, she started to punch them in some sort of martial arts form he didn’t recognize; it reminded John of Untermensch fighting, the way that bones gave way with every impact. Her style was very circular, and she did something he had never seen anyone do quite this way before, she actually dove past her opponents several times, landed in a somersault, and came up fighting. The last Krieger she actually stabbed in the chest with her bare hand; the Thulian shrieked once as it died, slipping off of her hand. She shook the gore off of it, then motioned for the rest of her operatives to move up.

  “Got more incoming, check your HUDs. Most from city center, some are between you and the rest of the teams. Seem to be trying to keep you from hooking up.” John saw on his HUD that
Vickie was right; two fairly large groups of Kriegers were homing in on their position. “They know exactly where you are. Probably got the city wired up with cams we can’t see, or it’s the Robo-eagles, or both.” John saw several of the Robo-eagles wheeling in the sky overhead, and half-thought about blasting one of them; not enough value for the kill, seeing as it would be like turning on a spotlight, highlighting their position.

  During the pause in the fighting, the Blacksnake operatives recovered their dead and wounded. John figured that they’d have to dig in for the moment, take care of the oncoming Kriegers, and then try to link up with the other teams, or have the teams link up with them. He trusted in Vickie and the commanders back at the base to make the right call; his job right now was to be a trigger-puller and fire-chucker. Molotok and Khanjar went about getting everyone set up in defensive positions; several Blacksnake squads were put on the rooftops, especially those armed with the RPGs with specialty warheads. Red Team’s job—along with Khanjar and a couple of squads of mercs—would be on the ground, providing a base of fire. Also means we’ll be taking the brunt of the attack. John decided to check on Bear and Mamona; both of them had had a rough time during this mission so far. Mamona was fine for the most part; a little shaken up from her injuries and getting pinned by the artillery, but she was keeping it together. Bear…looked ragged. He actually pushed away a proffered flask, his face gone pale and his eyes tired.

  John looked up from his survey of the team feeling grim about Bear’s chances—then caught Sera’s gaze. He felt something unspoken pass between them and bind them together again, suddenly heard that music well up gently in his mind. A great calm came over him, and he found himself moving towards Bear, as Sera mirrored his every step coming from the other direction. They met at the old man, who looked up at them, startled.

  “Shto—” Bear began, but they had eyes only for each other. Still moving in mirror-fashion, and as if in a kind of dream, with the music swelling inside him, John rested his left hand on Bear’s right shoulder. And an instant later, Sera placed her right hand atop his. Then they matched their free hands, palm to palm, his right facing her left. He felt the need to concentrate, and closed his eyes, the better to do so, aware as he did so that she was doing the same.

  Then he felt a jolt of—something—pass from them to Bear. The music faded.

  He opened his eyes, stepping back, hands falling away from Sera’s, glancing down at Bear.

  Bear looked, if not like a new man, certainly a revived one. There was color in his face again, and when Unter, looking a little rattled, absently held out the flask, Bear seized it and drained it. His plasma chamber was still barely visible, obviously still drained, but he seemed to have been somewhat invigorated.

  “Next time am having hung over, will be calling you two.”

  “On yer feet, Pavel. We’ve got some more Nazis for you to cuss out.” John and Unter both helped the old Soviet to his feet, steadying him for a moment.

  “I will destroy many of them!” Bear declared, grandly waving in the general direction of the enemy.

  Unter waved a hand under his nose. “Perhaps you only need breathe on them, Old Bear.”

  “Get into positions; they are coming.” Molotok didn’t need to say anything more; the rest of the team found where they should be, preparing for the oncoming Thulians. The Blacksnake teams and Red Team were all relatively well concealed, behind good cover. The Kriegers knew what area they were in, but hopefully didn’t have pinpoint positions nailed down. If they could just get the Kriegers drawn in a little before the opening shots of the attack, they had a chance of throwing them into disarray, maybe even breaking the back of the attackers enough so that they could link up with the other infiltration teams.

  “Contact, front. Scouting element.” A less-natural voice, probably because of electronic scrambling and de-scrambling. That was one of the Blacksnake operatives. Using one of the connected camera views from one of Vickie’s technomagical “eyes,” John had a birdseye view of the oncoming force without having to risk breaking cover. He saw three unarmored Kriegers, moving quickly and low, come around the corner of a building at the end of the street. They used hand signals, advancing forward in bounds. They’re gettin’ cautious. Once they had surveyed the street, they signaled for the rest of the force to start moving up. It was comprised mostly of armored troopers, with flanking elements of unarmored Kriegers moving parallel via alleys and side streets. The second force, the one between the team and their comrades, was almost completely made up of trooper armor; they couldn’t maneuver through the alleys, so they stayed on the main street, slowly advancing.

  Molotok waited until the bulk of the trooper armor was in the street, with most of them past the furthest Blacksnake team on the rooftops.

  “Now. Rooftop teams, engage at will.”

  “Roof. Engage.” That was a female voice; probably—no, without a doubt—Khanjar, confirming the order.

  From both sides of the street contrails from rockets streaked down into the back of the Krieger formation. Two troopers were taken out instantly, and messily. The rest initially were caught by surprise, but soon started firing at the edges of the rooftops from where the offending RPGs came from.

  “Ground team, fire now!” “Engage all.” Khanjar’s order overran the second half of Moji’s.

  John leaned around the corner, judged the distance and the spread of the Kriegers, then released a lethal blast of fire. The stream of fire impacted one of the lead troopers at the center of their formation; from there, it blossomed, spreading until it had engulfed most of the powered armor. He was immediately answered by a hail of Thulian energy cannon fire, ducking out of the way at the last second before chunks of the corner he was taking cover behind disappeared in a wash of actinic energy. The rest of the team and the Blacksnake mercs all began the main body of gunfire, targeting individual trooper armor while they were still out in the open. Several more fell, but the Kriegers had begun to take cover, firing and moving. John held back in cover a moment; for this little while, there was nothing he could do.

  “Love…I want to try something. Make a little flame in your hand for me?” Sera huddled up against his side, as he let the others lay down a withering barrage of fire. John, moving his rifle out of the way, held up his right hand, palm up, and ignited a small sphere of flame. Sera gingerly moved her finger near it…then into it. John started, his jaw dropping, thinking he was about to burn her. Her face lit up with a smile. “Your fires do not harm me any more than my own do!” she exclaimed. “We can use this, I think. At the least, you need not be concerned about striking me.”

  John grinned, then nodded. “Let’s wait for the right moment. Don’t want to blow our shot with the trick until we need to.”

  He and Sera rejoined their comrades, John alternately blasting troopers with his fires or shooting them with his rifle, while Sera was occupied with manifesting and throwing her fire spears with deadly accuracy. The Kriegers had taken some losses, but they were starting to coordinate better. One of the rooftop RPG teams, followed shortly by another, were killed when the Kriegers began to lob grenades onto the rooftops; the grenades would land, going off not with an explosion, but a sphere of Thulian energy. Nearly anything within its blast radius would be reduced to dust and vapor.

  “Second group, advancing on right flank!” That was Untermensch, shouting over the gunfire and explosions. This group was almost entirely trooper armor. They reached the junction between the street the team was on and the one they had been traveling along, oriented to the teams, and began firing immediately. One of the Blacksnake teams on the ground was blindsided, a withering volley of energy blasts cutting down all but one of the operatives. John whirled around to face the new enemy; he could tell that Sera was already moving, anticipating what he was going to do. Again, the music faded into the back of his mind, and all his senses became keener, sharper. He thought he knew that music, now—what it was. But there was no time to think about it. Con
centrating, visualizing what he wanted to happen, he willed fire into his hands, then immediately raised his arms, the flames shooting out to meet the Kriegers.

  John felt everything happening in a double-vision, seeing it and also seeing it before; it was like a form of instant Déjà vu, intense and almost perfect. Sera dashed from cover, causing some of the rest of the squad to shout or gasp as she ran in front of John’s hands, disappearing within the torrent of fire. The front wave of the flames had crashed into the first troopers, heating their armor and obscuring their vision. They continued firing as their allies behind them found cover to the sides of the street, not daring to venture into the inferno.

  And then, though it was difficult to see through the fire, something began cutting the Kriegers down. John knew what it was, though. That something was Sera, whirling and dancing within his fires and her own, her firesword nothing but a deadly flicker among the greater flames, until the last of the Thulians toppled to the pavement. Then something almost too bright to see flashed up and into the air out of the inferno, flames trailing it.

  And Sera landed, breathless, behind him. John shut off his fires all at once, the last wisps of flame dissipating into the air. With no small amount of satisfaction, he noticed that the remaining Kriegers were visibly unnerved when they saw the front ranks of trooper armor had been both burned and cut to smoking pieces. Two troopers actually tried to plod away, and were shot in the back by what John figured was a commanding officer. Concentrating, he fired off a plasma blast, hitting the leader in the back of the head and killing him instantly. The rest of the troopers tried to regain their composure, returning fire, but John could tell their hearts weren’t into it. Their shots were wild, panicked, with only a few coming close to John’s cover. Several other Kriegers retreated, not even bothering to shoot; no one stopped them.

  “Borzhe moi,” Molotok breathed. “When are you learning to do that?”