Angel of Doom

by James Axler

  “Witch! I shall peel the flesh from your scalp, crush your skull and drink your brains!” Vanth bellowed.

  Now I see the species resemblance to Charun, Brigid mused as she hurtled down one corridor after another. By the time she’d run a hundred yards from Vanth, her emerald eyes could clearly take in her surroundings once more. Vanth’s rantings and crashing fists were still distant behind, which meant Brigid had the opportunity to find the detour Charun had led Kane and Grant off upon.

  That bit of navigation was simplicity for her, and she charged on, finding a stairwell that throbbed with the continuous explosions of distant gunfire.

  “Domi and the others are awake, as well,” Brigid mused as she descended the steps. “And Vanth lied about being the only two entities from her world to be on this side of the wormhole.”

  Taking the steps quickly, jumping when she could, Brigid was glad for the brace she’d wound around her formerly sprained ankle, as well as the day’s worth of rehabilitation of the tender joint. Each landing was a spike of discomfort, but it was nothing more than a reminder of her mortality, not a crippling loss of footing.

  Reaching the floor where the gunfire resounded most strongly, Brigid entered the corridor. She paused only long enough to pull more of her package of surprises from its hiding space inside her boot and the wrap at her ankle.

  Vanth’s screech at the top of the stairwell informed Brigid of the demigoddess’s arrival. After seeing the way Charun had armored up, she knew that Vanth was also likely to be fully decked out with armor and her other gear.

  Brigid put an adhesive patch on the back of her slim, flat automated munition, set it to motion-sensor mode and continued onward. The hi-ex device was designed for use in multiple manners, almost all of them antipersonnel and capable of damaging light armor upon detonation. In some instances, it could be used for demolition, could be buried and would go off with the vibration of a group of troops walking past, or stuck to a wall, utilizing infrared beams as trip wires.

  It was amazing how clever mankind had been in the production of weapons of death and destruction, Brigid thought, but then she was thankful. There was an enraged goddess on her heels, so showing disgust at the aptitude of humanity toward warfare and armory was intellectually dishonest and incongruous. She glanced back to see Vanth hover down to the entrance to this level, glowing, feathery white wings unfurled behind her back.

  “Now what toys do you hav—” Vanth began, floating forward. The munition on the wall detected her and the corridor shook as if a thunderbolt had struck it. Brigid kept going, knowing that Vanth’s armor would provide more protection than the light mine could overcome.

  Brigid entered an armory, seeing their lost Manta as well as a group of slender, pallid humanoids looking on toward some spectacle. She changed direction, letting the bulk of the transonic craft cover her movements, but as she neared the nose of the Manta she saw that Kane and Grant were engaged in a pitched battle with each other.

  “Oh, that is unfortunate,” Brigid murmured as Grant lifted Kane from the ground by his throat with both hands.

  * * *

  GRANT FELT THE flutter of fingers along his jawline, and then he was no longer in contact with the outside world via the cybernetic communicator he’d been wearing only a moment before. The plate, worn outside and attached via pintles to the bone beneath the skin, was another of the wonders of Manitius base technology that the explorers of Cerberus had added to their adventuring kit. They were meant to maintain a constant flow of communication between the CAT members and Cerberus Redoubt, ensuring that no one would be lost or out of touch for long.

  The truth was that, as with any technology, there were times when it wouldn’t or couldn’t work. Especially in the face of opposition that had its own communications networks and a modicum of electronic countermeasures and radio jamming. Still, the ease of the Commtact over bulky, regular radios was worth being stuck with a metal plate on your cheekbone that could be reduced to an expensive decoration rather than a phone to home.

  Charun, beside him, had been jarred from his reverie in showing Grant around the Stygians’ armory, turning and looking on in shock. “Oh no…Kane has fallen under the control of Vanth, Grant!”

  The words had landed inside Grant’s brain like an avalanche, the stones sharp and heavy as they battered against any thoughts he tried to entertain.

  “…under the control of Vanth,” Grant repeated. His vision blurred and his heart rate suddenly accelerated. Genuine shock and surprise bubbled up within him and suddenly Charun staggered, his chest splashed with blood. Grant easily recognized the chatter of a Sin Eater, which made his confusion all the stronger as he turned back and saw Kane, gun in hand, smoke wisping from the end of the barrel.

  “Vanth betrayed me.” It was a soft whisper in Grant’s ear. He imagined it as a whisper, but in all probability Charun was speaking to him directly, mind to mind.

  “Kane? What do you think you’re doing?” Grant asked, stepping between the staggered, bloody Charun and his friend. He looked Kane over, but there were no words from his friend. If anything, Kane clawed at his throat, as if something was stuck there.

  Anger flashed in Kane’s cold blue eyes as he lifted the Sin Eater again, leveling it at the wounded demigod, his finger taking up the slack on the machine pistol’s trigger.

  “Kane?” Grant asked. “Kane! Snap out of it! Don’t shoot him! Kane!”

  With that shout, Grant hurled himself forward, heedless of the danger to himself. Kane raised his gun once more and Grant charged in, his fist a piston of steel slamming into his friend’s stomach to keep him from pulling the trigger and gunning down the helpless, wounded demigod. The blow knocked the wind out of Kane, much to Grant’s relief. The shadow suit’s protective abilities prevented the possibility of an organ rupture, but also allowed enough force through to keep the gunman from firing at Charun.

  Charun had just said that he’d been betrayed by his lover, Vanth, and that the selfsame goddess had seized command of his friend’s thoughts. No matter what kind of control the alien witch could have wielded over Kane, there was little chance that he’d gun down Grant. Even so, he was glad the shadow suit provided some measure of small-arms protection.

  With a leap, he was atop Kane, shoving his arm aside. The gun didn’t fire, so that meant Kane did have some measure of self-control. Grant squeezed hard on his friend’s wrist in the hope of making the smaller man drop the weapon. “You’re not in your right mind. You can’t kill Charun!”

  Gunfire resounded in the distance, almost as if the floodgates of sanity had shattered, waves of madness flushing through the hallways.

  Kane could only issue a croak from his lips and Grant took that as a sign of Vanth’s command of his mind. In a flash, something hard slammed against Grant’s jaw, snapping his head up and back. It wasn’t Kane’s closed fist, rather his forearm. Grant recognized the martial arts maneuver, one that was meant to apply the most force possible to inflict a burst of sensory input on nerves and blood vessels at the juncture of neck and jaw.

  Properly placed, the blow could render an opponent insensate without causing bone damage. The impact was not delivered with a closed fist, as it would break knuckles and render fingers stiff and useless. Rather, a forearm or elbow—both thicker and more heavily protected than the lighter carpal bones—delivered the stunning attack.

  Grant’s instincts had kicked in swiftly enough that he’d avoided the bulk of the punch, but he was still dazed. Putting Kane down without killing him was going to be a challenge, as both men were equally well-trained, and where Grant possessed superior strength, Kane was faster and more agile.

  Grant also possessed a longer reach, so he immediately pushed Kane away to his arm’s length. The stiffened edge of Kane’s hand sliced through the air, missing Grant’s face. The karate chop was something a little more dangerous, but when focused on the side of the neck or that cluster of nerves and blood vessels, had the same effect as a forearm sm
ash. The karate chop also had the potential of hitting too hard, possibly breaking an enemy’s neck. Even with the non-Newtonian cushioning of his shadow suit, Grant realized that Vanth’s mind control was pushing Kane to deadlier measures.

  With a kick to the stomach, he vaulted Kane halfway across the floor.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, bro. Say something. Let me know that naked bitch hasn’t got you as her puppet!” Grant demanded.

  Kane gathered himself up, glaring silently back at him. He pointed to his throat, but still stood in a defensive martial arts posture.

  Grant kept his distance, circling. He’d see white, slender figures in the corners of his eyes, but they faded the instant he tried to focus on them. They couldn’t have been an active threat, not with Grant distracted like this.

  The only reason they wouldn’t be interfering…

  They’re not interfering because you’re on their side.

  Grant paused. Kane wasn’t taking the offensive, and he wasn’t looking for his firearm, either.

  There were huge gaps in the logic of his battle with his friend, and that went double as he looked and noticed that the Sin Eater was still retracted, flat along Kane’s forearm. He’d never unleashed it, and thus hadn’t lost it when Grant tackled him.

  Anger surged through the big man as he realized he’d just been duped, having fallen into an illusion cast by Charun.

  Of course, he still felt the impulse to battle against Kane. This was something that had slithered under Grant’s conscious defenses, which was doubly disturbing. Hadn’t Brigid Baptiste implanted posthypnotic suggestions into the Cerberus expedition to protect them from this?

  “Damned aliens,” Grant snarled. He lunged forward and wrapped both hands around Kane’s throat, lifting his friend up. It was an aggressive move, one that hadn’t inspired an ounce of resistance from the voice at the back of his mind, shouting for him to put Kane down like the rabid dog he’d become.

  Grant only hoped the collar of Kane’s suit was absorbing the bulk of the force, as it had earlier with his initial punch.

  “Kick that bastard in the head,” Grant hissed to his friend.

  Kane’s eyes flared with recognition and agreement.

  With a mighty surge, Grant whirled, hurling Kane toward the fallen Charun. Twisting in midair, Kane brought both feet up so that he could connect with the Etruscan giant. Soles stiffened to the hardness of steel plates and Charun found himself crashing against the wall with 200 pounds of fighting-mad Cerberus warrior kicking out. Kane’s momentum was increased by the power of Grant’s throw, and the two men had actually floored Charun.

  The strange pressure inside Grant’s skull disappeared in an instant.

  “Anam-chara!” Kane rasped, finally able to speak.

  Even more static dissipated from Grant’s mind and he looked around to see the slender, pale creatures he’d barely been able to acknowledge under the ministrations of mind control. Of course, the moment they saw that he had been released from domination under Charun’s spell, they immediately struck a retreat. They had showed up to enjoy the carnage that would have occurred when the two friends engaged in a bloody brawl, and foolishly did so without weapons at hand. Now, having underestimated Grant and Kane, they realized that discretion would keep them alive much longer than standing in front of two armed and trained warriors.

  Brigid Baptiste swung around the nose of the Manta, her TP-9 in both hands and leveled toward the fleeing Stygians, making them run even more quickly away.

  “We need to go now,” she said. She must have realized the change in demeanor of the two former combatants. “Vanth is behind me…”

  “This way,” Kane croaked. “It sounds like Beta’s in the middle of a firefight.”

  Grant let his Sin Eater launch into his grasp. “How rude. We invite them to all of our gun battles. Let’s register some complaints!”

  Kane grinned. “It’s so much better having you on my side than against me.”

  As one, Brigid, Kane and Grant rushed down the corridor toward their besieged allies.

  Chapter 21

  So far, the Stygians outside the door to CAT Beta’s hideout had wasted a lot of their ammunition, and had only succeeded in leaving ragged gaps in the door’s panels. Domi turned and made certain that her allies were all in full hoods.

  “Gas them,” Domi said. She’d gotten a glance through the holes torn in the door and could tell that while they wore appropriated Olympian armor, they had forgone the helmets.

  It was an uncertain strategy since there was no guarantee their body chemistry and biology were close enough to human to be adversely affected by clouds of pepper gas. However, if their sense of smell and touch, if they had similarly sensitive mucus membranes to humans, Domi could attest to the conclusion that tear gas would send them scurrying away.

  Smaragda fired her under-barrel gren launcher on her rifle. The 40 mm shell punched through a weakened, bullet-eaten section of door, and when the round struck the far wall, it popped loudly. Hissing smoke gushed into the corridor and they were almost instantly rewarded with the sound of rasping coughs and gasps.

  Sinclair and Edwards, who had switched to his shotgun on the command to gas them, fired their 12-gauge variants of tear gas shells, adding to the billowing, eye-burning mists that replaced the roar of autofire with the sounds of spitting, retching and wheezing.

  “There’s a reason why we wear helmets on the battlefield,” Smaragda stated. She thumbed another shell into the breech of her launcher.

  “What?” Domi asked bluntly, pointing to the round she loaded.

  Smaragda looked down. “Flash-bang.”

  “Boom,” Domi said with a grin. No longer needing their suits to be in camouflage mode, the team let the second skins return to their shadowy black, hoods turned translucent for the ease of recognition and communication. The black faceplates were good for stealth and intimidation, but a conversation lacking facial expressions was unnecessarily troublesome, especially for Domi, who tended to lose most of her vocabulary in times of stress and conflict.

  Smaragda grinned in reply and fired the launcher.

  The hoods protected the hearing of those inside the storage room, audio pickups filtering out the massive pressure wave, but for the Stygians trying to root them out, it was unadulterated pain. The stun gren shook loose splinters and remnants of door that had been hanging on by threads, and Domi could see one of the pallid aliens clutching the sides of his head. Though the creatures had no apparent external ears, that didn’t mean they didn’t have eardrums that could be ruptured.

  The blast wave also did a number on their vision, as black, thick tears flowed from their almond eyes and slit nostrils. Domi recalled Brigid’s explanation of the effect of dangerously loud flash-bang grens; that the sound was accompanied by levels of pressure that burst small blood vessels in vital areas such as the sinuses and eye lining in some cases. With their sinus membranes already under great stress due to the tear gas, the Stygians were undoubtedly going through hell as the already filled chambers of their skull were exacerbated and flushed with blood.

  Gunfire rattled in the corridor, which caught Domi’s attention. It didn’t take more than an instant to recognize it was the gunfire from her friends’ pistols, not the appropriated Olympian rifles. Slender, haggard figures lurched through the choking tear gas in an effort to flee the arrival of CAT Alpha.

  A black-gloved hand reached in front of the door and gave a rap on a solid bit of remnant.

  “Excuse me, is the man of the house around?” Brigid called out.

  “And the ladies, too,” Edwards shouted back. “What took you guys so long?”

  “Would you believe acts of god?” Brigid asked.

  Domi ran to the door, opening it for her friends. “We staying here or moving along?”

  “I’d say we’re moving,” Kane returned. “Especially if Vanth isn’t going to waste time on the scrambled Charun.”

  Domi snapped her fingers, wavi
ng the rest of her team into the corridor. Sela Sinclair led the way, motioning the direction from which CAT Beta had entered the bowels of the pyramid. Domi paused long enough to see Grant setting up a pair of flat demolitions charges along the walls.

  “It slowed her down once before,” Brigid said, starting to run and follow Kane and the others.

  Domi nodded. “Good.” She turned toward Grant, calling out, “Hurry up!”

  “I’m coming!” Grant growled, punching the controls to activate the wall mines.

  Domi caught the reaction of the big man as he looked away from the wall, then spun and raced toward them. Instants later the wall erupted under a thundering crash, a blast much larger than anything the trip-wire mine could have produced. Domi could have sworn, in the moment before the tunnel was shaken by the explosion, that she saw a black arrow slicing through the air.

  Whatever the case, Grant skidded on the floor, then scrambled to his feet. “Vanth’s here!”

  Domi helped Grant get his footing again, and the pair exploded into motion, racing away from the spreading cloud of dust and debris.

  Vanth had definitely showed up ready for all-out war, and she wasn’t staying her hand, or the quiver of arrows she wore. Those arrows struck with the force of thunderbolts and, right now, the teams were equipped more for dealing nonlethally with mind-controlled minions than with deadly enemies whose archery was as destructive as anti-tank missiles.

  “She’s making room between us and them. She needs to get Charun back on his feet and into his armor,” Grant explained. “Still, that’s a hell of a bow and arrow set.”

  “Damn right,” Domi agreed as they charged along.

  Grant and Domi finally caught up with the others and saw Kane and Edwards hard at work cranking up the wrought-iron gate from the inside. Now that the Etruscan godlings knew of the presence of the CAT teams, there was little to be lost by using the official controls on the door. Working together, the two men used a lever and a set of chains and pulleys to lift the several-ton iron gate.