Now try one of these. Yudi drew Symeon’s attention back to the suit’s weapons inventory, a particular munition highlighted for emphasis.
Symeon grinned as he lifted his right arm and a barrel snapped into place above his wrist. With a thought, he selected a timed magnetic bomb and fired two of them into the door where they stuck fast. Quickly, he spun around, gathered Kavya into his arms with his back to the stairs and detonated the explosives. Keyed to discharge as much kinetic energy as possible toward the front, the bombs delivered a considerable impact despite their size. The armory shook with a boom, and the massive door jumped out of its frame to land upright on the courtyard tiles where it wobbled for a moment before toppling over on its face, obliging the six guards who had gathered there to scramble out of the way or get flattened.
“Stay close,” Symeon said as he spun toward the stairs, his mind whirling through the weapons at his disposal even as he took note of the guards and their relative positions. “We’ve got a shuttle to steal.”
Kavya drew her laser pistol, her jaw set. “Lead on. ”
* * * * *
Chapter 26
Symeon fired a concussion grenade from the top of the stairs. It landed in the midst of the guards who hadn’t yet recovered from the armory door’s unexpected tumble. The subsequent explosion and flash of light were enough to polarize his visor and cause his exterior mic to momentarily attenuate all input. Thus, he didn’t hear Kavya’s scream, or immediately notice when she collapsed to the paving stones.
With the guards writhing on the ground, Symeon ran for the exit opposite them.
Stop! Kavya is down.
Symeon's armored feet dug furrows in the courtyard paving stones as he spun about, heart in his throat. Unlike the guards, who had taken the brunt of the grenade’s impact at close range, Kavya was already struggling to her feet though she appeared less than steady. She stumbled forward and would have toppled headlong a second time had Symeon not caught her.
“You idiot!” She shoved away from him, but her balance proved untrustworthy and she was forced to rely on his mechanized arm for support.
“I’m so sorry!” Symeon guided her toward the far exit, one eye on the castle guards, three of whom were rising to their feet.
“Did you suddenly forget I was with you? And that I’m not traipsing around in battle armor?”
“I’ve never fired a grenade in my life. I didn’t realize it would affect that wide of an area. Again, I apologize.”
“I can’t hear what you’re saying. I’m deaf because of you. Just get us out of here without getting shot!”
Symeon hustled Kavya into the eastern alleyway leading out of the courtyard. Red laser fire brightened the walls behind them, the sound of it like an over-stressed teapot. Thankfully, the recovered guards’ angle of fire couldn’t reach their quarry, but they were coming on fast and would soon remedy that problem.
Door ahead is sealed. Security has put the castle on lock down.
“Can I burst through it with a running start?”
No. Give me three seconds.
“To what?” Symeon had no more than asked the question before the answer came clear. The courtyard door, an automated model, swung open on servos an instant before Kavya reached it. They passed inside and it slammed shut behind them, its locking mechanism engaging with a series of clicks.
Security is trying to reopen it. Too bad I’ve locked them out of their own system.
“Perfect! Will it hold?”
Yes. It’s reinforced against lasers and projectiles. Of course, it won’t last forever. With concentrated fire, they’ll come through in a matter of minutes.
“Let’s not be here when that happens.”
“I still can’t hear what you’re saying,” Kavya huffed as she dashed along the interior hallway two steps ahead of Symeon. “You might as well save your breath for later when you beg forgiveness for making me deaf!”
Symeon winced inside his helmet.
Well, at least this way she isn’t asking why you’re talking to yourself.
“True.”
Based on their plan, Symeon and Kavya had only to traverse this single hall to the eastern side of the castle where Fang kept his shuttles on twin landing pads. A few more steps, and they would reach freedom.
Not quite.
Yudi called up an overhead view of the castle and its grounds with two red icons highlighted for Symeon’s attention.
The armored guards.
Symeon cursed himself for forgetting them. Coming from opposite directions, they reached the castle walls at almost the same instant, Lieutenant Gou on the south, and Captain Guyford on the north. For one brief second, Symeon held out hope the castle’s security lock down protocols, now usurped by Yudi, would thwart the newcomers, but no such luck. Gou blew the southern entrance doors off their hinges with six timed grenades, and Guyford simply scaled the northern walls like a spider.
While Gou marched into the courtyard to join his non-armored compatriots, Guyford dashed across the roof, leaping from tower to tower, heading straight for the landing pads.
Symeon dragged Kavya to a stop before she could reach the exit ahead of them. She turned to him, a sour yet questioning look on her face. “What is it?”
He made the universal sign of guns firing with his armored hands and pointed outside.
“The suit tell you that?”
He nodded, pointed at the floor for her to wait, and held up one finger.
“Okay, but we can’t sit still long. I’m surprised the guards behind us haven’t come through yet.”
Symeon didn’t bother trying to communicate how he had locked them out. He instead turned his attention to the armor’s interface into the castle’s computer systems. In about ten seconds, Lieutenant Gou would reach the courtyard door. Five seconds after that, Guyford would likewise reach the door in front of Kavya. They were surrounded and outgunned.
Any suggestions? Symeon thought, his mind whirling through a panoply of increasingly improbable solutions.
Give up? Honestly, I see no way for you to overcome two armored opponents backed by—oh no, that’s not good.
Informed by his interface with Yudi, Symeon saw in his mind what had so upset the AI. All five of the unarmored guards were now headed for the armory to acquire their own suits on Captain Lao Xi’s orders. “Make that seven armored guards.”
Step out of the suit, lay on your belly, and I’ll open the doors. Kavya won’t like it, but she’ll understand when she sees the odds.
Symeon looked at Kavya who raised a purple eyebrow at him. She trusted him. They had made this plan together. She wouldn’t abandon it at the first sign of opposition.
This is more than the first sign of opposition, Symeon! You’re facing overwhelming odds. Be sensible. Submit.
Red light coupled with an intense rise in the ambient temperature surrounding the courtyard door caught Symeon's attention. Gou was slicing through using his shoulder laser. A few more seconds, and this would all be over.
Kavya cursed and drew her sidearm, ready to fire at whatever came through that door. Not that it would do her the least bit of good. Firing a laser pistol at armor was tantamount to a prisoner trying to punch his way through a steel wall.
Symeon froze. “Yudi, didn’t you say these suits have security measures built in to stop theft?”
Yes. What does that have to do with—Symeon, you clever boy!
“Can you access them?”
On it...done!
Gou’s laser fire ceased, shut off like a faucet. Symeon could hear him cursing on the common channel about his suit’s inexplicable power failure. He tried calling his comrades in the armory for assistance, but they too had suffered the same freeze. Two of them had fallen on their faces, while the other three stood immobile at the foot of the stairs.
“Yes!” Symeon shook a fist in their air.
“What happened?” Kavya stared at the smoking door, nose wrinkled. “Why’d they stop?”
/> Symeon chopped a hand across his throat to signify termination and pumped his fist again, laughing at Kavya’s increasingly perplexed expression.
That worked well, but don’t celebrate too soon. Look.
Captain Guyford, whose armor hadn’t turned against him, dropped onto the porch outside the eastern door with a heavy thud. Symeon, a lump of fear growing in his throat, watched through the castle’s security cameras as Guyford’s shoulder laser unlimbered.
“Why didn’t the security lock out work on him?” Symeon pushed past Kavya to place himself between her and the door.
It appears Guyford has tinkered with his suit. The others contain a simple, factory-applied algorithm meant to keep outsiders from gaining access to their internal programming. His is far more complex.
“I thought you were an AI? I thought you could make code do anything you like.”
Being an AI doesn’t make me magic. Given a sufficiently sophisticated lockout, even I’m stumped.
Bright rivulets of burning metal poured from the door where Guyford’s laser sliced through it. The glowing slag set fire to the wooden floor beneath.
“Whatever happened to the first one, it didn’t stop the second, I see.” Kavya clanged her sidearm against Symeon’s shoulder to get his attention. “Think you can fight in this thing? Maybe try some more grenades, but warn me this time before you set one off.”
Symeon nodded and took aim at the doorway with the launcher on his right arm. Kavya took this as her cue to hide. She scurried back to an alcove decorated with a holographic portrait of some Gomarov ancestor and wedged herself behind its sheltering stone facade.
No point firing before Guyford gets through, Yudi said before Symeon could key the grenade.
“Right.” Symeon crouched, his mind chafing at the delay. Every second he spent waiting for Guyford was another second castle security had to foil their escape. “We thought this plan was foolproof. We were stupid.”
In our defense, you are a seneschal, not a military commander. Same is true for Kavya. And while I may have observed humans over many generations, my experience stems from the largely peaceful Luxing. They fought a single war, and that at the tail end of their civilization. I have little first-hand experience with this sort of fighting.
“And here’s me on the cusp of battle.” Symeon steadied his arm, his focus set on a targeting reticle provided by his visor.
You could still surrender.
“No. We’re committed. I’m getting Kavya out of here.”
Flames licked up the walls and along the floor as Guyford made his final slices in the door. He completed a surprisingly well drawn oval and finished up by kicking the cutout inward with enough force to send it cartwheeling into Symeon. The brunt of the impact hit his helmet and bowled him onto his back. He lay there for a second, head pounding, momentarily unable to move. He hadn’t taken a blow like that since his days in the ring.
“I should have seen that coming.”
I should have as well. Sorry.
“Why’d that hurt so much?” Symeon wondered aloud as he struggled upright.
Impact gel and armor can absorb only so much energy. Some of it is bound to reach your body. Be thankful. If that door had hit you unarmored, you’d be dead.
Tottering on his feet, Symeon stared through the flames as Captain Guyford strode into the hallway, his armor tinted a metallic blue, his helmet visor polarized to hide his features. His shoulder laser bore down on Symeon, eliciting an alarm beep inside Symeon’s helmet.
“Symeon Brashniev, you will stand down and exit that armor immediately, or I’ll rip you from it by your spine.” Guyford’s amplified voice cut through the sound of roaring flames like a siren through fog.
A wave of indignation passed through Symeon, raw and unencumbered by his lack of training in armored fighting. Had Guyford threatened to kill him? The lout had some nerve. While Symeon might lack tactical experience, he knew how to fight. And he knew another thing too—Fang wouldn’t want him or Kavya injured, which meant for all of Guyford’s bluster, Symeon doubted he would follow through with enacting egregious bodily injury. He was stymied.
Moving with the precision of long hours spent in the gym, Symeon raised his fists, closed the distance between them, and caught Guyford with a strength-enhanced left hook that sent the other man’s helmet crashing into the wall. Wood splintered as Guyford scrambled to keep his balance. Symeon followed up with a straight right that landed with a CLANG! Guyford tumbled into a sideboard that collapsed beneath his weight.
Had Symeon caught a man with those two punches without armor, his opponent’s chances of remaining conscious would have been slim. With armor, however, they became a mere inconvenience to Guyford. He kicked Symeon with both feet and sent him sailing into the far door which rattled in its frame. The blow hurt, but Symeon managed to keep his breath. He considered firing that grenade he had been saving for Guyford, but dismissed the idea with Kavya hiding in the alcove scarcely a meter away.
Guyford lifted his left arm and a black blade slid into view, protruding above his wrist. He rushed Symeon in an attempt to skewer him against the doorway.
“So much for pulling his punches,” Symeon muttered as he dodged aside with less than three centimeters to spare.
The blade sank into the door with a sound of screaming metal. Without pause, Symeon brought his fist down on it with all his might. It broke in two, the larger of the pieces stuck in the door, the smaller still attached to Guyford’s arm.
Elated by his victory, Symeon failed to notice Guyford immediately pivot into an overhand right to his visor that sent him crashing into the wall and momentarily scrambled his 3-D display. Guyford followed that blow with a rib-creaking kick that sent shock waves through Symeon’s sternum. He crashed halfway through the wall behind him, dust and splinters cascading all around.
Memories of hard battles in the ring flashed through Symeon’s mind—times when he had been down on the cards and forced to battle his way back into contention against a formidable opponent. While skill played a large role in every fight, grit often determined the final outcome. It made a boxer a fighter, and a fighter a machine fueled by pain.
Symeon marked Guyford’s next blow in a sort of sluggish fugue, as if time had slowed. He intended to stab Symeon with what remained of his arm blade, a fact he telegraphed with all the discipline of a toddler. Tasting blood on his lips, Symeon smiled behind his visor as he ducked under Guyford’s strike while simultaneously extricating himself from the wall. Spinning in a tight circle, he drove his right fist into Guyford’s back at kidney level with all the power his muscles and armor could deliver.
Guyford grunted as the impact spun him about. Off balance and reeling, he was unprepared for Symeon’s follow up knee strike, which laid him out on the floor.
For a moment, Symeon stood still, ready for Guyford to resume the attack, but nothing happened.
He’s unconscious.
“Seriously?” Symeon nearly jumped for joy, but stopped himself at the last second when he caught sight of Kavya squeezing out of the alcove.
“Well done!” she shouted. “We need to go! Can you do something about the fire?”
“Wha—? Oh! Right.”
Try this. Yudi drew Symeon’s attention to a fire retardant carried aboard the suit. Given the armor’s limited space, the compressed foam could douse little more than a large campfire, but it sufficed for clearing a path to the door.
“Good!” Kavya, sidearm in hand, dashed outside and cleared the five stairs leading up to the entrance in a single leap.
Symeon, in a sweat to keep up, vaulted the porch railing to land a meter behind her, his metal-clad heels digging divots in the manicured lawn. Together, they ran for the landing pad with its two shuttles.
“Can you open them?” Symeon asked Yudi as they approached the first one. Crescent-shaped at the rear with a flattened forward section, the pearl-white craft reminded Symeon of a guitar pick.
“How am I
supposed to open them?” Kavya, standing under the first shuttle’s boarding ramp, turned to look Symeon in the visor, one eyebrow raised. “You’re the one with the key card, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Symeon stammered. “Sorry, I was talking to myself.”
Apparently, her hearing is returning. One moment...got it.
The ship’s ramp lowered with a whoosh of compressed air. Kavya holstered her laser pistol and started up the incline. Symeon made to follow, but spun about when a bullet pinged off the hull next to his helmet.
Two unarmored guards carrying rifles ran toward the shuttle, each attempting to fire without breaking stride. Even given his limited experience, Symeon could spot the difficulty in that. With an almost casual flick of his wrist, he lobbed the last of his concussion grenades so that it struck a meter and a half in front of his would be assailants. They went down with a boom, but hopefully no permanent damage.
With the field clear, he hurried aboard the shuttle, the boarding ramp closing behind him, and stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. Lying prone in the main aisle, her dark hair disheveled, Czarina appeared to be sleeping.
“She got in my way,” Kavya called from her position in the pilot’s seat when she caught sight of Symeon’s quizzical head tilt. “My gun has a microwave stun setting, she should recover in a few minutes. Make sure she isn’t carrying any more weapons. I took a pistol off her.”
The visor showed no foreign objects on Czarina’s person. “She’s clear. Shall I drop the ramp and place her on the landing pad?”
“No time,” Kavya said as she furiously tapped away at the ship’s flight controls. Its engines hummed to life, filling the cabin with their whirring. “More guards are pouring out of the castle. Besides, it’s probably better we keep her with us for collateral. With luck, Fang will be less likely to order us shot down with his daughter aboard.”
Salvage Mind (Salvage Race Book 1) Page 23