Killzone, Ascendancy

by Sam Bradbury

  It was. I saw a green entry light flicker on for a second as the circuits sizzled and died and a little plume of smoke escaped. Machine-gun bullets tore into the asphalt as I hit the doors with my fingertips, already prising them open, pulling them apart with a shout then diving into the store. Denied, the ATAC angrily buzzed around the building, raking it with gunfire, and I spent longer than was comfortable tucked into a wall until the barrage eased off.

  Good move, Sev. You’re in a room full of high explosives being riddled with bullets. I scrambled to my knees and found a gun rack. Not what I was looking for. But by its side was a long crate and now we were talking because this was a VC9. Good of Stahl to stock it, I thought, snatching it from the box, then filling my pouches with ammo. I slung my assault rifle over my shoulder, loaded the grenade launcher, then flew out of the store to face the ATAC.

  The pilot was angry, frustrated. That had made him sloppy. Good. Maybe he didn’t know that what I’d entered was a weapons storeroom and that I was likely to be packing some serious heat. Maybe he just didn’t care. Either way he swung round the front of the building to find me waiting for him, kneeling, with the rocket launcher at my shoulder snug against my cheek. I had him in my sights.

  ‘Gotcha, motherfucker,’ I said, and pulled the trigger. There was a screech. Air billowed. The rocket found its target and an explosion bloomed on the side of the ATAC, which spun away, wounded. Again I took cover, reloaded the rocket launcher and waited for it to come round. I took another shot and missed. Shit. Snatched at it.

  Now it targeted me with missiles and I found myself running again as the ground erupted behind me. The ATAC hesitated then gained altitude as I disappeared between two bunkers, but I doubled back and instead of appearing at the other end like he expected I came round to his rear. Suddenly I found myself with all the time in the world. Crouched. Brought the VC9 up. Got the ATAC in my sights and squeezed. The launcher jumped and the ATAC was hit by a rocket it never saw coming.

  And now it was badly damaged. The bug’s engines had developed a knocking sound and one of its LMGs was no longer functional.

  Still it came after me. I saw Rico on the other side of the compound loosing off shots that ricocheted from the shielding of the ATAC, which was enraged enough to turn and launch an attack on Rico, opening up with its remaining LMG and firing a missile that sent him darting back into the safety of a repair bay. But the assault gave me just the momentum I needed and once again I sprang from cover and just as the ATAC spun round I brought the rocket launcher to my cheek. For a millisecond we faced each other, the ATAC hanging in the air, me on the ground below. Like two duellists. Just a matter of who fired first.

  It was me. My rocket slammed into the damaged ATAC, which exploded into a ball of flame midair, and even as I was celebrating its demise I was shielding myself from the shrapnel raining down upon me.

  In the aftermath was silence. Just the sounds of the klaxon from the main complex. Me and Rico were high-fiving, enjoying the sudden lull in the action as Narville arrived with ten of Bandit Recon in tow. These guys had reverted to being proper grunts, dispersing by the numbers, and looked like a force to be reckoned. Bandit Four was among them and I looked for Gedge, hoping against hope that he’d made it, my heart sinking until I caught the eye of a grunt who raised his hand in a salute, giving me a lopsided smile. It was him.

  ‘Shoulda let me take the shot,’ he called.

  Grinning, I waved him away, turning my attention to Narville who I took to one side.

  ‘Captain,’ I started, ‘we’ve got a problem.’

  And I was just about to tell him what we’d seen in the data centre when there came a great clanging sound from the main complex and a series of beacons on the roof of the main building burst into life, painting the night orange. Next a rumbling sound and now I saw it – the roof of what must have been Workshop One retracting, exposing a block of blinding white light that expanded as the doors pulled back. Then came thunder, the unmistakable noise of boosters engaging, and Stahl’s ship began to rise from its cradle, a behemoth gleaming black in the night. It sent a dark shadow over us all, buffeting us as it rose clear of the facility then turned and began to move overhead, lights winking on its underside, the mammoth petrusite cannon squatting there, petrusite crackling along the barrel.

  It had started.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  We watched the ship draw off, all sickeningly aware that we were seeing a battleship bound for Earth and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do to stop it. The most powerful weapon we had available was the VC9 and we might as well have blown the ship a kiss for all the good that would have done.

  Narville’s mouth was working like he was trying to form words that refused to come. In his eyes was the same helplessness we all felt. And now we saw two more ships bearing the Stahl Arms logo rising from elsewhere in the facility, and the only thing between them and Earth’s occupation was us – a few harried, exhausted ISA guys. We’d been sold out by our own people and were hunted by the enemy, and when you looked at it that way, maybe we should have just looked the other way and let them get on with kicking the shit out of each other. Fuckers deserved each other. But, no, that isn’t the ISA way. You know our code that says no one gets left behind? We have another one too: never let Earth get invaded. Just that we don’t use that one so often.

  ‘Okay,’ said Narville, trying to pull it together, finding the words at last. ‘I’m betting that cruiser will dock at a space port …’

  Of course. Fresh out of the workshop they wouldn’t be battle-ready. Chances are they’d RV with other ships, probably in geo-stationary orbit outside the planet’s atmosphere – in other words, at some kind of space station. It made sense, but even so it was just a hunch and, to be sure, we had to follow it. I saw Rico looking from me to an Ice Saw nearby – both of us having the same idea at the same time.

  Then there was the roar of engines and an uprush of retro thrusters, the unmistakable sound of Intruders descending and I looked up to see two of them dropping from the sky towards us. Crouched on the deck of one was Jammer, and for a moment I let myself swim in those eyes. Did I imagine it or did she reserve a smile for me? Sure could get used to that, I thought.

  Now she turned to Rico as he said, ‘Didn’t I order you to get back to camp?’

  ‘Never follow a bullshit order,’ she came back, sardonically, then indicated the captain.

  ‘You must be Narville,’ she said, in a tone that suggested she had been told all about Narville by Rico – and that the report hadn’t been glowing. Narville frowned, his displeasure deepening as Rico took over and began giving the Raiders orders.

  ‘Jammer, get Narville back to his men. We’ll stay in radio contact as long as we can.’

  Me and him had a cruiser to catch; we’d be faster without the rest of the team tagging along and, besides, Rico was right: the men needed Narville. We could be an army again. The thought was enough to give us a renewed sense of purpose as Rico and I jumped into the Ice Saw, ready to take off and kick some –

  Shit, it was cold. I looked in vain for any heating. Christ, these guys had the best weapons in the known universe and they couldn’t even install a heater? Figured, I guess. If it didn’t kill things, the Helghast weren’t interested. My breath plumed thickly in front of me, and the windscreen was a mass of ice squiggles. From up front Rico turned round and made a face at me, like he, too, was freezing his balls off.

  With a growl the Ice Saw engine engaged, and I took hold of the joysticks, easing them forward and letting the Ice Saw roll gently across the asphalt towards a linked fence at the far end of the compound where a carpet of shining-white snow stretched off to infinity. Its two huge, toothed tracks moved slowly on the surface, crunching on the frost. The engine purred like a contented big cat. It was twenty tons of traction, this thing; there wasn’t a snow- or ice-covered terrain that could slow it down, let alone stop it. Other surfaces it wasn’t so hot on, but snow and ice? It at
e them up. And if anything got in its way – whether animal, human, superhuman or just some pesky bit of landscape needed shifting – well, there was a driver-operated chain gun to take care of that. A forward-facing gun only, though, I noted, hoping that wouldn’t matter. The cruisers were moving away from us now, so as we got to the perimeter of the vehicle compound I opened the throttle and the Ice Saw took a grateful leap forward, tracks pulling on the snow surface, engine thrumming happily as we took off, gaining speed, tearing along the mountainside.

  Soon we were chewing up the miles, surrounded by a cloud of ice and snow, with Rico using the chain gun to destroy obstacles in our way as he weaved between clumps of dead blackened trees and steered us through deep, icy gullies.

  We were descending, I realized. It was hardly noticeable, but we were. We’d come up the mountain in a cable car dressed as Higs, with rescuing our men the only thing on our minds. We were coming down trying to stop an attack on Earth. You couldn’t make this shit up.

  All the time I was keeping a close eye on the cruisers at our twelve …

  Then – like some cat in a cartoon – I was doing a double-take as I saw more ships appearing.

  ‘You see those? ’

  ‘I see them,’ said Rico.

  Now the sky was a patchwork of ships. The fleet was beginning to gather. And not just the larger crafts but smaller Overlord dropships flying at a lower altitude, probably on recon duty. Who should they find tracking the mother ships but an Ice Saw bouncing along below. An ant on the mountainside. Enough to warrant another look, obviously, because two of the dropships banked to come round and check us out. One of them hung in the air ahead of us, and the main doors of the hold slid open. I saw a grunt inside staring out at us, then gesturing. I twisted in my seat to see another Overlord at our rear.

  ‘Rico, they’re onto us,’ I yelled.

  ‘Copy that,’ he shouted back.

  The barrel of the mounted chain gun swung as Rico adjusted the targeting. On the screen I watched the sighting move to locate the Overlord in front of us. The ship was just about to peel away when Rico opened fire, raking a blast across its hull and sending the Hig inside sprawling.

  The pilot panicked. Pulled away too sharply. With a scream the grunt in the hold fell forward and pitched out of the cabin to the snow beneath, landing in a tangle of arms and legs.

  He was lucky: the snow broke his fall.

  Then again he was unlucky. Because just as he was scrambling to his knees and pulling his rifle towards him, our Ice Saw was bearing down upon him and I was tweaking the steering to take him under the tracks. He howled as he disappeared beneath the sharp teeth, his body instant mush, blood streaking the windows of the Ice Saw. I saw a clawed hand lodged in the front axle and it took me a moment to realize that it was a dismembered hand. Then it was gone and I twisted my head to see red mess on the snow behind us.

  And another Overlord.

  We’d riled them now. Overlord One pulled away and banked hard, coming up on us for a missile strike. The chain gun pounded. The cockpit filled with the stink of cordite and we left a trail of spent shells in our wake. Sparks flashed across the Overlord and suddenly it exploded into an orange-black globe, and we were lashed by debris.

  One down. Now the other came up on our flank, then was out of sight as I took us down a gulley with steep ice walls either side.

  ‘Snow’s getting finer,’ Rico shouted back over his shoulder.

  We came out of the other side of the gulley onto a plain and there was the Overlord again, swinging round to our front. Rico chased it away with a blast from the chain gun. It fired a brace of missiles, but missed, and there was a fountain of snow, flame and mountain in front of us, me steering away from the blast zone.

  We thumped over uneven ground. I held on tight and gritted my teeth as we were buffeted by another explosion, the dropship staying to the side and rear of us. Clever boy. Out of the chain gun’s range. Already it trailed a ribbon of smoke, damaged from our first blast.

  ‘I need him at our twelve to finish him,’ shouted Rico.

  We raced across the plain, out of cover now. Ahead of us the ground dropped away into a shallow canyon and if we could make that then we had cover again and we’d be safe for the time being.

  If we could make it.

  The Overlord swung into position behind us, riding the sky, getting its aim. There was no way it could miss unless its targeting systems were damaged or the pilot was blind. And somehow I didn’t think the Helghast used blind pilots.

  Nope – there was no way we were going to make the canyon.

  ‘Grab your nuts,’ I shouted, and yanked on the joysticks so that the front tracks of the Ice Saw locked and it swung round in a plume of ice shards, coming to a stop with a screech of outraged metal. Facing the Overlord.

  Man, I’d have loved to have seen the pilot’s face right then.

  Rico opened up with the chain gun, perforating the bow of the Overlord. Fire bubbled from its cockpit and straight away it lost altitude. For a second I thought it was going to hit us then it sailed over, getting as far as the canyon where it flopped to the ground and exploded.

  I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a rush, Rico doing the same. We looked at each other, and both began laughing with relief. Then we glanced up at the sky and we stopped. It looked like the Overlords had lost interest at least, as the fleet moved away.

  We had to keep following. We got the Ice Saw going and we took off after it, both of us trying to ignore the clunking sound from the engine.

  Pretty soon the ride had got even rougher. We’d come down the side of the mountain, I realized, and looking up and behind me saw the huge edifice of Stahl Arms in the distance, forty klicks away at least. Next we ran out of ice altogether; the Ice Saw was meeting hard rock and not liking it. Then it was juddering, the tracks screeching, sending a cascade of sparks above our heads, and I realized we were on a stony surface just as there was an unhealthy grinding sound and the Ice Saw stopped, unable to continue any further – because what good was an Ice Saw without any ice?

  We pulled ourselves from the cockpit, the fleet still above our heads. Ahead of us was desert interrupted by a mountainside. Behind that we saw four pillars of light stretching from the ground upwards, going out of sight into the roof of the sky.

  Space elevators. They were space elevators. Anchored on the ground and rising to above the atmosphere, where – I’d lay money on it – they serviced a space station. That was it. That was where the Higs were massing, ready for the attack. They would have been servicing the space station with the elevators, sending up personnel and supplies. But that operation was over. Their main fleet would be moving out of orbit soon.

  Which made the elevator station vulnerable. And there had to be ships there, surely?

  I looked back the way we’d come. Smoke rose in the distance from the carcasses of the two fallen dropships. Then I looked forward, to the mountainside and the four columns of the space elevators.

  ‘How far do you think it is?’ I asked Rico.

  ‘It’s far,’ he sighed, and we slung our assault rifles on our backs and began to run.

  ‘You know the direction we’re headed?’ I said.

  ‘No. Do you?’

  ‘If I’m right then about thirty klicks in that direction,’ I pointed ahead of me, ‘is Pyrrhus.’

  ‘You think the space elevators are in Pyrrhus? They cleared the city and built them in six months?’

  ‘Could be,’ I said.

  Thinking it through, it made sense: the irradiated petrusite created by Red Dust would make the perfect power source, probably the only one on the planet capable of juicing the elevators.

  ‘Man,’ said Rico. ‘That must have been a helluva clear-up.’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  What felt like hours later we found ourselves at the bottom of the mountain. At its base was soft, brown and sticky soil that I crumbled in my fingers, seeing it cling to my gloves.r />
  ‘Fancy a climb?’ said Rico, looking up.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said.

  I’m not sure what I expected when we reached the top, but what I saw when I scrambled to my feet, brushing the strange, clinging dirt from my ACU and then looking around myself, made me catch my breath.

  Directly below us was a scrap yard. A vast scrap yard stretching as far as the eye could see on either side of us and maybe seven klicks deep, forming a giant strip of land like nothing I’d ever seen before – an endless river of garbage.

  This was it – this was the Pyrrhus City clear-up. Here was where they’d taken the trash.

  Past the scrap yard was an expanse of desert and then the outskirts of what had once been Pyrrhus, but which had now been virtually levelled – was just rubble, by the looks of things. And there, in the middle of the city, more or less exactly where we’d attempted the failed extraction six months ago, was the elevator station, made almost beautiful by the ropes of petrusite dancing above it.

  ‘Jesus,’ gasped Rico from by my side, ‘look at them all.’

  He was pointing above our heads, and my attention was jerked away from the scrap yard to the direction of the space elevators where the ships were gathering.

  There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of them, from battleships and cruisers to fighters and dropships. And not just the Stahl Arms war machine either. There were Helghast military ships approaching too, all of them vessels of war, making a mosaic of the sky. This was like watching the entire planet’s military force moving out, and again I found myself awestruck by the sheer size of the operation. When we launched Operation Archangel against Helghan it was the biggest military operation in the history of mankind. But this – this was in a whole new ballpark. This made Operation Archangel look like a trip to buy groceries.