Kronos Rising_Kraken vol.1

by Max Hawthorne

  As Sam’s eyes slammed tightly shut and he let out a God-awful scream, Garm and Dragunova exchanged panicked looks. The TALOS suit came alive and began to stagger about the flatbed, its huge feet clomping down from one spot to another and causing the big truck’s heavy shocks to complain noisily from the shifting load.

  “Aieee!” Sam cried out, thrashing inside the still-open cockpit. He caught sight of the panicked captains rushing toward him and his struggles started to slow. “I-I’ve . . .”

  As Sam’s pained expression morphed into an unexpected grin and he started belting out Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” Garm and Dragunova both came to a shrieking halt and stood there with their jaws hanging down.

  “You fucking dick!” Garm snarled as his friend kept on singing. “I thought you were dying!”

  Sam stopped his serenading and said, “Oh, trust me, it hurts like a mother. But I’m not gonna let a little thing like pain get me down.”

  A moment later, he quit shifting and calmed. He looked around the dock from his perch on the flatbed and then smiled.

  “There, that’s better,” he said. A moment later, the cockpit door for the Mark VII swung up and closed with a thump, followed by a loud whoosh and hiss as the pressurized seal took hold. Sam took a lingering look around to get his bearings, then his voice rang out from the suit’s external speaker system.

  “Stand clear, everybody,” he said. “I’m going to bring this bad girl down to the ground and I’m not sure how strong that ramp is.”

  As everyone backed away, Sam started to guide the six-ton TALOS suit forward. It moved smoothly but ponderously, its huge feet shaking the ground. Although it bowed a bit under the load, the heavy gauge steel ramp held and he made it to the reinforced concrete below without incident.

  Lieutenant McEwan stepped forward and stared at her reflection in Sam’s visor. “How do you feel?”

  “Powerful: like I can lift a house.”

  “Technically, you can.”

  “No, it’s more than that.” He raised his robotic arms in front of him, causing the chisel-tipped fingers on the right side to ratchet open and close. “It’s like I can feel the added parts, like there are nerve endings in them. And my senses are soaring!”

  McEwan nodded. “An accurate description. The Talos cybernetic design includes integrated neural-interactive pathways between your nervous system and the suit’s electro-sensors. You can actually ‘feel’ what it feels, to a point.”

  “But, my hearing, my sight?”

  “All enhanced, especially your vision.” She scanned the page quickly. “According to the stats, the visual acuity system was based on that of a mantis shrimp. You’ve got high speed cameras that can record at up to 200,000 FPS and you can see the entire spectrum. For you, even smells are perceived as colors.”

  Sam swiveled his robotic head around in wonder, then turned and eyed her with interest. “You’re right. And let me say, the colors you’re giving off are exquisite, my dear.”

  “Great . . .” Dragunova shook her head in mock disgust. “You put a horny pervert een a super-suit!”

  “Hey, you had your chance, Shorty,” Sam said, striking a bodybuilder’s double biceps pose.

  “Can I shoot heem, please?” Dragunova asked.

  Garm laughed and turned to McEwan. “Speaking of shooting . . . what kind of weaponry does this thing have?”

  “I can answer that,” Sam said, moving a thunderous step closer. “The Mark VII is mainly designed to crush and rend, but it does have one main ‘gun’ of sorts.” He raised his cannon-like left arm and pointed it toward the ceiling. “This!”

  “Shit, whatever that is, do not fire it,” Garm admonished.

  “I can’t,” Sam said. “And even if I could, it wouldn’t do anything. Not unless I was right on top of the target.”

  Catching Garm’s confusion, McEwan moved between him and Dragunova and showed them the schematics on her tablet. “See here? It’s a Mark-V ADCAP plasma weapon.”

  “Like in ‘Star Trek?’” Garm asked.

  She chuckled. “No, more like an overgrown plasma torch. It’s a direct-current, hybrid plasma weapon with a range of about ten feet.”

  “Ten feet?” Dragunova scoffed. “Useless.”

  “With all due respect, captain, I read up on it and I disagree,” McEwan replied. “That sucker’s got a blade temperature of over 10,000 degrees Kelvin. That’s twice the surface temperature of the sun. It can slice through a battleship’s belt armor in one pass.”

  “And against organics?” Garm asked.

  “Anything that comes within five feet of the plasma jet will be exposed to a blast of super-heated seawater, effectively parboiling it.”

  “And a direct impact?”

  McEwan’s white incisors pressed against her lower lip as she visualized her response. “It will cut through the skull of a Kronosaurus like a light saber . . . sir.”

  “Impressive,” Garm said. “And out of the water?”

  “I can’t use it in the air,” Sam interjected. He lowered the barrel of his plasma gun and pointed it toward the floor. “The jet is composed of seawater-stabilized plasma. No seawater, no plasma.”

  “Good. That means you can’t get drunk and punch a hole in the hull.”

  Dragunova snorted irritably. “Speaking of hulls, eet ees almost time to cast off. My people are already ready, Captain Braddock. I suggest you get yours under control.”

  Without even a “bon voyage” she spun on her heel and headed toward Antrodemus.

  “Charming, isn’t she?” Garm said to McEwan.

  “Actually, she scares me.”

  “That’s because you’re a smart girl. I assume you’ll make sure the truck finds its way back to the depot?”

  “Absolutely.” The petite redhead eyed Dragunova’s muscular back as she continued to move off, then lowered her voice. “Garm, I didn’t want to say anything in front of her because, frankly, I think she’s got the hots for you. But I hope you have a safe tour.” She locked gazes with him. “And if you’re free when you get back, I’ve got a great recipe for grilled pork chops I’m dying to try on you.”

  Garm cleared his throat, hoping Sam’s enhanced hearing wasn’t picking up their conversation. “That’s quite an inducement, Lara. Assuming I make it back in one piece, we’ll have to talk about that.”

  Making sure his back was to Sam, he gave her one of his trademark winks, then grinned as she walked back to the flatbed and climbed behind the wheel.

  “Okay, Sam,” he said, turning around. “It’s time to get you and this walking tank onboard.”

  “Hold on a minute, pal,” Sam opened his suit’s hatch as the big truck rumbled to life and pulled away. “It’s obvious you’re banging the Siberian tigress, over there, but--”

  “What makes you--?”

  “Oh, please. This is me you’re talking to. Don’t insult my intelligence. It’s all I’ve got left these days, okay?”

  He sighed. “Okay, fine. Yes, Natalya and I are . . . involved.”

  “And the little redhead, too? How the fuck are you managing that?”

  Garm sniggered. “Now, there you’re wrong. I never touched her.”

  “You swear?”

  “Word of honor. She’s interested, but I haven’t pursued it.”

  “Oh, thank God. I was worried.”

  Garm gave him a look. “What, you think I’m a selfish bastard? Geez, Sam. Look, if you want, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “Oh, no. I can speak for myself. I just don’t want any more of your sloppy seconds.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Remember when we traded off those fitness girls in Honolulu – you had the short, Vietnamese one with the great legs? My God, after you were done with her, she was like the Holland tunnel!”

  “Get the fuck outta here.”

  “I’m serious!” Sam said, giving him a playful nudge with one of his giant mechanical arms. “I don’t know what y
ou’re packing, buddy, but I felt like ‘Thelma and Louise’ falling into the Grand Canyon! I had to tie a plank across my ass!”

  Garm groaned and pointed at the canal where Gryphon was berthed. “In the water, forty feet from the bow. Turn on your lights and look for the opened airlock. You’ll be storing your AWES alongside our LOKI AUVs.”

  Sam swiveled in that direction. “What about my quarters? I can’t sleep in this thing, you know.”

  “It’s cramped onboard, but we’ll do our best,” Garm said. “Once they’ve drained the seawater, my crew will help you out and get you into your chair.”

  “You can bring it?”

  Garm nodded. “Yes, but the only place you’ll have room to move around is the galley, so I’ll have a cot set up for you in there. Best I can do. Sorry.”

  Sam’s head hung in his harness and he stared at the ground. “Okay.”

  “What’s with the puss?”

  “Nothing, I understand I’m a burden and I know you need your space. It wasn’t like I was asking for--”

  “Why you devious little cocksucker,” Garm swore. “You actually thought I was going to give up my quarters for you?”

  “W-what? No way, I just thought . . .”

  “Let me tell you something, Samuel Mot,” Garm said with a grin. “It’s gonna take a lot more than you complimenting my dick to con me out of my bunk!”

  “Uh, well, how about a hand job?” Sam offered. He held up his suit’s huge titanium-steel mitt. “C’mon. This thing’s big enough to handle even your cock, and with the pistons and actuators it’s got, I bet it will do one helluva job. Plus, it’s not like I’d actually be touching you, so technically . . .”

  “Sam?”

  “Get in the fucking water.”

  “Yes, captain . . .”

  CHAPTER

  30

  “Afterbirth . . . afterbirth . . . afterbirth . . .”

  Dirk was almost through the concrete corridor leading to the docks when his obsessing over Natalya Dragunova betrayed him. He’d been mentally reviewing the meeting he had with her and Garm and found himself envisioning each and every word that had come out of her mouth.

  ‘Can you imagine the size of the afterbirth?’ were the ones that got him.

  Out of nowhere, a wave of disorientation swept over Dirk and he was forced to stop and lean against a nearby wall. The cold concrete permeated his skin and he shuddered at the realization. He could actually hear the dusty drawer in which he’d compartmentalized unpleasant childhood memories creaking as it was forcibly opened.

  Suddenly, he was six years old again and climbing down from the school bus. He was crying and in no hurry to get home, for fear he’d suffer further shame. Thankfully, his dad’s SUV wasn’t there. Worst case scenario, only his mother would see him in his current state.

  “Afterbirth . . . afterbirth . . .”

  His tormentors’ chant was still echoing in his ears as he approached the kitchen door. The razzing had started in the playground. The class bullies, frustrated that he’d refused to allow them to copy his homework, had come up with a new way to torment him.

  “You’re so tiny, Braddock – after your brother was born you probably just fell outta your mom’s smelly cooch!”

  “Yeah, she was so stretched out she probably didn’t even notice you!”

  “She probably thought you were the afterbirth!”

  “Yeah, he’s just her afterbirth! Afterbirth . . . afterbirth . . .”

  Outraged by their attempts to denigrate his mother, he’d stood up to them, only to end up getting jumped by all three. If the resultant beating wasn’t humiliating enough, he had to listen to their disgusting litany the rest of the day, and all the way home, too.

  Garm hadn’t been around for the “fight” or the hellish bus ride. He liked to jog the fourteen blocks. But he’d seen the teasing earlier that day and done nothing.

  Not that Dirk expected any help. Although the two of them were close, historically speaking, when it came to sticking up for his little brother, Garm was a neutral party. He seemed befuddled by Dirk’s inability to stand up for himself and stayed out of it.

  And so it was to Dirk’s surprise that, as he crept in the house on little mouse feet with the intention of sneaking up to his room, he overheard Garm and his mother discussing his troubles in the living room. Dreading what was being said, he crept closer, his ears pricking up like an owl’s.

  “I just don’t get it, mom,” Garm said. “They were picking on Derek again at school today and he wasn’t fighting back.”

  “What were they doing?” his mother asked.

  “They were calling him names, saying bad things, and pushing him around because he’s smaller than me.”

  “And did you stick up for your brother?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Dirk could hear the concern lacing his mom’s voice.

  “Because Dad said it’s a man’s duty to be able to take care of himself,” Garm stated. “I heard him tell someone that when they asked him why he still trains so hard, even though he’s not a policeman anymore.”

  “You didn’t hear the whole thing, sweetie. Daddy works out because he feels a man needs to be able to take care of himself and the people he loves.”

  “Oh . . .”

  From his vantage point, Dirk could see his mother put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Did you ever consider, Garm, that the reason you’re so much bigger and stronger than your brother is because you’re supposed to take care of him?”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Doesn’t daddy take care of us?”

  There was a brief silence. Then Garm said, “You’re right, mom. I’m sorry, I’ll fix things.”

  “Fix things? Karma takes care of bullies like that.”

  Garm nodded. “Yeah, but sometimes karma needs an assistant.”

  As Dirk brushed against a ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter, nearly toppling it, he gasped in alarm. Fear shot through him and he stumbled backwards, his heart pounding at the possibility of getting caught.

  He found himself back in Tartarus.

  “There you are, handsome,” Stacy said, walking over to him. She wore an unabashedly maternal expression. “Hey, you okay? You’re sweating.”

  Dirk pulled away from the gritty wall and straightened up, his lips bowing as he rhythmically inhaled and exhaled to cool himself. He twitched as a boatload of insight landed smack on his shoulders. He couldn’t believe he’d somehow forgotten that relic conversation between his brother and their mom. That was the day before Garm commenced what would be an ongoing mission to beat down every bully that looked sideways at him.

  Dirk swallowed the sudden realization he’d solved one of life’s little mysteries. “Yeah, I’m good, Stace,” he replied. He wiped at his brow. “Sorry. I guess the bourbon isn’t out of my system yet.”

  She chuckled. “I always knew you were a lightweight. C’mon.”

  “Did I miss anything?” Dirk asked, clearing his throat as he followed her outside. They moved past the guard post, toward a red and black MarshCat she had parked nearby.

  “I checked the log and they’ve already got Gryphon’s new AWES suit uncrated and stowed,” Stacy said as they both climbed in. She turned the ignition key, causing the rugged six-wheeler to spring to life. “Both ORIONs are locked and loaded and launch-ready. So if you’re going to wish either of their respective captains a ‘bon voyage,’ we’d better haul ass.”

  “Then get us there,” Dirk said. He sat back, relishing the feeling of the onrushing dock air flowing over his damp face and hair. Behind them, the immense pliosaur tanks shrank as they sped toward the distant submarine slips.

  Stacy was right. Both gray-hulled Gryphon and her red-hued sister-ship, Antrodemus, were definitely ready to kick butt. Both their bows were pointed at the nearby Vault doors and they had steam wafting from their exhaust ports. They reminded Dirk of hungry dragons, eager to hunt.
<
br />   He focused hard. Both sub crews had already boarded and he could see Garm and Dragunova conferring like tag team wrestling partners as the ATV moved steadily closer.

  Dirk sighed. He would’ve felt like a real shit if he didn’t say goodbye to his brother. Not just because of the compiled guilt over having always been so jealous, which he realized now was considerable, but because of the danger factor. Everyone seemed to think his twin was indestructible – Garm included – but the powerful pugilist was about to go on safari after the most dangerous Kronosaurus of all time.

  Tiamat might have been bigger, but Typhon was crafty and experienced.

  And deadly.

  “Well, well,” Garm said, turning around as Stacy pulled the ATV up and slapped it in park. “Looks like we’re getting a sendoff from the big brass, after all, Captain Dragunova.”

  “Ees about time,” she snickered.

  “Glad you made it, little brother,” Garm said with a grin. As Dirk tried offering him his hand, he tousled his hair, then grabbed the young scientist in a huge bear hug and hoisted him clean off the floor. “Stay out of trouble until I get back, okay?”

  “Oof! Will do,” Dirk replied as his feet touched back down. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to get his rib cage to re-expand.

  “Doctor Derek,” Dragunova said, extending her hand. “Eet ees good to see you again, and dressed, I might add!”

  Dirk pretended not to notice Stacy’s eyebrows scaling her forehead. He shook palms with the towering Russian, then yelped as she unexpectedly yanked him forward and mock arm-wrestled him. She stopped and gave him a playful nudge.

  “Doctor Daniels,” Dragunova acknowledged, giving Stacy a polite nod.

  “Good luck,” Stacy replied. “And good hunting.”

  Garm chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s going to be the hunt to end all hunts.” He gave Dragunova a knowing smirk then clicked his tongue at Dirk and Stacy before turning on his heel and making for Gryphon.

  “Hey, Garm?” Dirk said, rushing after him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I should’ve said this decades ago, but . . . thanks for always being there.”