by Drew Avera
Gentry knelt down beside the body and turned the head. There was a hole going through the forehead, execution style, but it wasn't from one of the Faracon weapons. "They were killed with gauntlets," he said with a painful exhale. "They were expecting us. That's the only conceivable reason why so many of our numbers have died." Gentry stood and paced around the area, grumbling to himself. Every few seconds he would stop and look at the arrangement of the bodies before pacing again. I could tell he was trying to piece something together, but what it was I couldn't quite tell.
His actions piqued my curiosity so I started looking at the scene with a more critical eye. I could tell there was something about the area I wasn't seeing from where I stood, so I moved over to the raised podium that overlooked the square. It was the same place Treston stood when he sent Harris and me to his little torture chamber below ground, giving Ghon full reign on our treatment. I couldn't think about that now; there was more at stake than the past. Wrapping my hands around the cold stone lectern I looked down over the bodies and saw a message written by the dead. "Gentry, you might want to come up here and take a look at this," I said.
Gentry and Pontiff White joined me on the podium and looked at the same thing I had seen a few moments before. I felt a trembling rage boil from Gentry's body even from a few feet away. There was a panting sound as he tried to catch his breath, and I recognized the look of betrayal in his eyes. I was sure I had the same look when I found out Thom had turned on me. Spelled out using the dead bodies were two words that seemed to stab Gentry in the heart with a conniving blow. The message was simple and devastating. It said, "Thanks, Nila."
Chapter 27
Pontiff White stepped over to Gentry and placed his hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "She had me fooled too. I'm sorry I didn't suspect anything," he said as a tear fell from Gentry's cheek. Both men had slumped shoulders and it felt as if the fight had left both of them. It was as if hope had been sucked out of our lives and all we were left with was the dread of impending failure. This was an uncomfortable realization, indeed.
"It's not your fault. She played us, and I was a fool for believing her lies." Gentry turned to me and wiped the moisture from his eyes. He stood there for a moment in the wake of complete silence. There were no more screams or sounds of gunfire. There was only us, here and now, in this deathbed of a city. Everything we came to fight for was compromised and now we had to salvage what we could in order to retaliate. There was no way in hell we would let this pass. "We need to get back to the transport and rescue our people. We can't do this alone, so I'm going to call for backup," he said as he pulled his communicator from his pocket. A light blue holographic display lit up above the communicator and he used his finger to scroll through the controls to place a call to one of the commanders. "This is Gentry. We need to fall back and return to the lead transport. I suspect it is under attack." Gentry was all business as he swallowed down the hurt he previously had in his voice.
A voice on the other line answered. "Yes, sir. It seems that most of the soldiers have left the fight, so you are probably correct on your assumption. We haven't come across an insurgent in the last several minutes. It's almost as if they disappeared," the commander said through the open connection. He sounded familiar, but I couldn't think of his name.
"What's your ETA?" Gentry asked. His face was like stone as he took on the mantle of leadership and ignored his emotions. He had the look of a man who had never broken through the programming, like he was a newly modified policeman coming to The Agency. It made me nervous to watch him turn so cold all of a sudden. Though, I couldn't say that I blamed him, not in the least. Maybe turning off his emotions would serve him better than reacting to them. I knew from experience that emotions could distract you from making sound decisions. If your head’s not in the right place, you can get killed or cause those you care about to be killed. It was as simple as that.
"We are fairly scattered, sir, but we have a group only three miles from the lead transport. I will contact that commander and have them secure the perimeter until we arrive," the man said. He seemed to have a good grasp of what was going on. Unlike me—I felt like I was in the dark ever since getting captured. That was the problem with being thrust into imperative situations. Operations move on without you and you have to scramble to get caught up. Unfortunately, we’d been too busy trying to stay alive for me to find out what was happening elsewhere in the fight.
"Roger that. Let me know when they arrive. Gentry out," he said, before snapping the communicator closed and shoving it into his pocket. He rubbed at his wound and grumbled something under his breath before addressing me and Pontiff White. "Let's go. We've got no time to lose."
He turned towards the steps leading down into the courtyard and began the trek through the bed of dead bodies littered into the cryptic message left for us. I looked at the men as I passed by them and knew their death could very well be in vain. My heart began racing as I started thinking about the risk posed to Kara, Laurel, and Harris on board that transport. I hoped beyond anything that they were safe, but I knew my hope was fleeting. That was the story of my life though: every time something was going my way, tragedy would strike. I just wanted to have a normal life, even though I had no idea what normal was. It was nice to contemplate it, though.
It took us only twenty minutes to reach the transport, which felt like a land speed record, considering Gentry's wound and all of the walking we had been doing before. My feet were killing me, but we had a mission far more important than temporary discomfort. Even Gentry seemed to have caught a second would. That was, until we stopped to meet the commander Gentry had spoken with on the communicator. I did recognize him. His name was Brzer and he had been Thom's first mentor before he came to me.
"I was just about to call you. Everything is in place, sir," Commander Brzer said. He was a few years older than I, and had been top of his class as a Prospect. He was even meritoriously advanced twice after becoming a policeman. He seemed to know the game and how to play it in order to advance, but wasn't much of a mentor, according to what Thom had told me when I first took him on. Brzer was focused more on himself than on training his men. It was merely misplaced priorities, and The Agency did not look down on him for it. They simply moved the protégés to another mentor and promoted Brzer up the ranks.
"Very well," Gentry said. "We have the transport crew and three civilians on board. One of them is from Earth and is severely wounded. We need to assess the situation with a small team and find another way on board other than the cargo bay door. Have some men go check it out," Gentry ordered.
"Right away, sir," Brzer said before turning and barking out some commands to his men. The policemen immediately fell out and took their positions to approach the transport. That's when the first man was killed. We had been on site for only a few minutes and were already under attack. Gentry was right: this is exactly where The Syndicate had gone, and that meant they now had my sister and my fiancée as hostages.
Chapter 28
"Take cover!" someone yelled as the first body hit the ground. It was a young policeman, probably only a part of The Agency for a few months before I left Mars for the first time. I looked at him lying there with his eyes open and the light faded from them all ready. A gauntlet blast had carved out his chest and flashed straight through his body, turning every layer of him into gas on its way. There was no hope for him; his life was over.
More blasts erupted from the transport. Each one was centralized from the cargo bay door, which meant, if there was another way to get on board, The Syndicate didn't know about it. At least not yet. "Gentry, we need to get a team to go to the other side of the transport and find a way in," I yelled over the sound of mounting chaos. Policemen ran past us left and right, trying to find cover as we ducked behind some trees. It wasn't an effective means of cover, but if we were out of sight for a bit, then we could formulate a plan.
"Brzer!" Gentry called out.
Commander Brzer was sev
eral yards away and came running when he heard his name called. "Yes, sir," he said, when he was hiding behind some overgrown vines.
"Get a team together and go find a way in on the other side of the transport. Most of the targets they are identifying are on the south side, o go across the streets to the north end and work your way back through the woods. Once you find an access point, give me a sign, and we will keep them busy until you can work your way through the transport and flank them. Do you have it?" Gentry asked. It was a very strategic plan, but there were some unknown variables. The most daunting of which was how many members of The Syndicate were on board?
"Yes, sir. Consider it done," Brzer said before falling back and assembling his team one by one. I watched as he approached each policeman and gestured for them to go muster in the woods across the way. Each man fell out from his position and moved quickly to the position he was told. There were twelve in all leaving the rest with us.
"Serus, I need you to go get the word passed to everyone to wait for a signal from Commander Brzer before firing at full force. We need our men spread out to distract them, and I don't want the transport damaged with random firing. It's already been hit a few times," he said as he held his chest. Gentry had been through a lot today and it seemed that the pressure was ever mounting on him.
"What about me?" Pontiff White asked. He was lying in a small ditch, which kept him out of sight, but wasn't a very effective vantage point for seeing what was going on.
"Stay there," Gentry and I said simultaneously. Pontiff White lowered his head and nervously fiddled with his hands. It was obvious that both men were more shaken up than either would want to admit. If I was honest with myself, would admit it, too, but there was a reason to push on. I wasn't afraid to die, but I was afraid to lose the ones I love.
"I'm on it," I said as I darted off towards a small group of policemen behind a cluster of trees. One of the sets of trees had four trunks growing from a single root and it provided a nice place to hide. "I need your help," I said to the nearest policeman.
"How so?" one of them asked. He was about my age and was sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his legs.
"We need to get the word out to everyone to spread out and wait for a signal from Commander Brzer before we fire into the cargo bay doors. We also need to have controlled fire, if you can't see your target, then don't fire. We have civilians on board and we don't want to damage the transport. Will you three help get the word out?" I asked.
"Yeah, no problem," a policeman named Petori said. He had dark red hair and was known around Archea to be able to find any target and complete the hit within eight hours. Some people speculated how he was able to do this, but in the end I thought he was just lucky.
"Thanks. Come back and let me know when everyone is in position, so I can take that message to Captain Gentry," I said.
All three of them dispersed from the area in different directions and I ran over behind a different tree to provide cover fire. I shot towards a reflection inside the cargo bay door and hit someone wearing a gauntlet. I watched as the man fell to the ground, and was relieved to find it was a man in a suit and not one of the crewmen, or worse yet, Kara or Laurel.
Once the three men were far enough away, I broke from my position and ran back to Gentry and Pontiff White. "Dissemination is in work, but in the meantime I found a better place for you two to post up," I said, slightly out of breath from running.
"We are fine here," Gentry said, without even looking at me.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "It has an adequate place for you to sit down and rest. You've..."
"I said I'm fine!" Gentry snapped. His face had grown paler and his eyes were wide. His breathing was sporadic and I knew he was anything but fine.
"All right. What about you, Pontiff White?" I asked.
"He's fine too," Gentry said. "You can go now. Let me know when everyone is in position," he commanded.
Things had declined quite a bit since I had left them. His demeanor was worse, as was his condition. Beads of sweat covered his face and neck even with a stiff breeze blowing through the trees. He was probably fighting an infection of some kind, but the stubborn old man wouldn't sit long enough to be examined. I watched him pull Serum from his pocket, down the contents of the bottle in a single gulp, and drop the empty vial onto the ground. "Is there anything else?" he asked, when he realized I was gawking at him.
"No," I said.
"Good, then do as I said and report back to me when everyone is in position."
"Yes, sir," I said. Something horrible was wrong with him, but I couldn't focus on that now. Maybe, if we lived long enough to carry this out, I could get him the help he needed. For now all I had were my orders and an ounce of hope that I could save the people I cared about. I turned to run back to the grouping of trees and leave Gentry and Pontiff White behind. It was difficult to do, because I considered us a team, but for now I would just have to have faith that they would be all right. I just wished faith was an easy thing to find in such circumstance. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
Petori was waiting for me when I got back to the cluster of trees. He was kneeling down and looking out between a small gap in two of the tree trunks when I approached. "Is everything set up?" I asked while he was still looking the other way. It was never a good idea to sneak up on a policeman. That was a good way to get yourself killed.
"Very well," I replied as I watched all of the activity happening. The Syndicate was firing pop shots randomly into the tree line and return fire was sporadic from different positions. We had an advantage due to the bottleneck of the cargo bay opening. Unfortunately, our hands were tied, because we didn't want to destroy the transport just to get to those men. From time to time, one of the policemen would get a hit and out would fall another member, dead. The bodies were already stacking up. Three on one side and four on the other. I just wished we knew how many total were inside.
Out in the distance, on the north side of the transport, I saw Commander Brzer and his men approaching. Six on one side and seven on the other, they moved along the fuselage in search of a hatch they could use to enter. I knew they would find one, but I had no idea it would be so soon. Within fifteen seconds of being in contact with the transport, the hatch was open and the first man was entering. Commander Brzer gave us a wave, and that was our sign to unleash hell.
Chapter 29
Simultaneous blasts tore through the cargo bay door from the policemen in the woods. Return fire was sporadic and I could see several bodies falling out onto the ground as they were pushed out of the way by oncoming members of The Syndicate. The onslaught of arms quickly died down just as quickly as it erupted, and there was silence as the smoke cleared from the torrent of laser light burning through the bodies. A stench filled the air, which had a nauseating effect. I could only imagine how grotesque it was inside the cargo bay.
"Cover me," I said to Petori, as I took off in a sprint towards Gentry and Pontiff White. Blue beams were shot in my direction from the transport which let me know we weren't as successful as I had hoped, but the policemen fired in return and I went unscathed.
Gentry was resting his back against the tree and was gasping for air, while Pontiff White was fanning him with a branch of leaves. "What's going on?" I asked.
"I don't know, but he doesn't look so good," Pontiff White said.
Gentry tried to speak, but nothing came out but a hoarse groan. He was five shades paler than the last time I saw him and I knew he would surely die if we didn't get him to a doctor. That was, if it wasn't already too late.
"I heard the fighting and could see the beams firing. Did Brzer make it inside?" Pontiff White asked, still fanning Gentry. I knelt down and pulled off Gentry's jacket to look at his wound.
"Yes, they are inside," I replied. I wasn't trying to be short, but as soon as I saw Gentry's wound, I knew it more serious than I had imagined. The entire area was dark and hot to the touch. It was as if his tissue was dying where the blade e
ntered and was spreading outward on his body. I was sure Gentry felt the effects earlier, but said nothing about it.
"Oh no," Pontiff White said when he saw the damage done to Gentry's chest. "I've never seen and infection like that."
"Me neither," I said. I looked around for something, anything, to help. It was hopeless because there was nothing in the woods to help with this kind of injury. Then I had a thought. "Where did the doctor staff stay on board?" I asked.
Pontiff White looked at me and realized where I was going with this. "The level below me at the front of the transport. I can help you carry him."
I didn't want to risk all three of our lives to save one, so I looked at Gentry. "Do you think you can walk with assistance?" I asked.
He nodded his head and tried to stand.
"Here," I said as I took his arm and helped him up. He fell back against the tree to support himself, but at least he was on his feet. "Stay here and cover us," I said to Pontiff White.
"But I can help," he said.
"No, the transport isn't secure yet. I'll come back and get you."
Pontiff White glared at me with a pissed off expression on his face, but he shook his head and agreed bitterly to stay behind. The smell of bodies probably did as much to persuade him as I did.
"Come on," I said to Gentry, as I put his arm around my shoulder and started moving, half-dragging him towards the transport. "Cover us," I called back, and Pontiff White began firing towards the cargo bay doors.