Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Make it a fast minute. There’s still civvies in there.” He turned to face the rest. “We’re going to hold here until they’re in position. We need to do this at the same time to make it work—”

  Corbie was interrupted when the door for the main concourse slammed open behind him. He whirled around to find one of the “Rebs” staring at him, slack jawed. There was tense moment where everyone was too shocked to react; the ECHO Ops and the probable merc just stood looking at each other for several heartbeats.

  Both had the same reaction.

  “Shit!” Two voices rang out as one. Both grabbed for their weapons.

  “Perimeter breech!” the merc managed to squawk—presumably into his headset—before Corbie could bring his PDW to bear on the man. The merc, even fighting against his rifle’s sling, was faster on the draw; his gun was leveled at Corbie’s chest. Before either of them could fire a barking mass of fur and teeth sped around Corbie; Leader’s dogs swarmed the merc, knocking him to the floor. Corbie heard the merc’s head impact with a dull thud; he ran forward with his gun trained on the downed man, but he already knew by the sound that he was out cold.

  “Damnit!” He slung his PDW to the side, relieved the merc of his weapons and radio, and then zip tied his hands and feet together. “We’ve lost the element of surprise. They know we’re comin’; we gotta move now! Matai! You get all of that?”

  “That’s a big 10-4. Sorry, Chief, put in a complaint with the boss, we gotta move.” Corbie could hear more shouting over the radio, followed by the shriek of crumpling metal. “Ready here.”

  Corbie looked over his shoulder at Leader and Knight. “Alright. Here we go!” He kicked open the door to the main concourse with his PDW shouldered, followed by the rest of his team. He took in the scene in front of them instantly; much of it was what he had expected; a lot of the stalls and storefronts were trashed from the gun fight between the mercs and the cops. There were several dozen civilians scattered like terrified rabbits wherever there was even a modicum of cover; some of them were clearly hurt. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for the mercs to be ready for them; they all had their guns trained on his team. Some of the bastards were even smiling.

  “Cover!” Without a word, the mercenaries started to fire. Corbie dove behind the nearest pillar; he felt his nanoweave jacket stiffen with impact from two hits. It took him a moment to get his breath back and sit up; after switching the rifle to his left shoulder he leaned out from the left hand side of the pillar, firing a burst from his PDW at the mercs. Their return fire forced him back behind his cover. Frantic, he looked around for the others. Knight was sending out blasts, but they weren’t having nearly the effect they should have; the mercs must’ve had some sort of active hearing protection on. Leader was writhing on the ground, screaming and holding his ears; his dogs were all in similar condition, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth as they pawed at their ears frantically.

  “What the hell’s wrong? What’ve they done to you?” Corbie leaned out, firing another burst from his weapon.

  “Ultrasonics!” Leader gasped out, clenching his teeth against the pain. “They’re hurting them!”

  He looked for the brothers; surely they had to be fairing better. If they could get to Corbie and the rest of the team, they’d have a chance to get to better cover, not pinned down against the wall. With Leader and his pack down and Knight’s powers ineffective, they’d have to form an alternate strategy, and fast; some of those wounded civilians wouldn’t make it unless they got to a hospital, and soon. It took him a few moments, but he was finally able to locate the brothers; his heart sank immediately. They were enveloped in a cloud of gas; tear gas or something like it, from the way they were coughing and choking. Both of them were blinded by it, especially Motu; with his amalgamation armor his vision was already limited enough. Heavy caliber rifles were pounding away at the armor; it was everything that Motu could do to shield his brother and try to renew the armor as fast as it was being stripped away.

  Knight wasn’t in any better shape; his armor, while sturdy, couldn’t stand up to the barrage it was getting forever. Eventually they’d take him down. He knew it, too. But he wasn’t moving; he stood there, continually blasting at the mercs and trying to protect his team. While they were focusing on Knight, they weren’t shooting at Leader or his dogs.

  They were ready for us. Not just ready—but for us, specifically. They had to be. They’ve got our bloody number. We need to turn this around right now, or we’re all dead. Think, man, think!

  “Vix!” he shouted into his mic. “Can you do somethin’ to shield Knight?”

  The answer came as the floor suddenly heaved up around where Knight had taken shelter. “It’s reinforced concrete, sorry, it takes me a little longer to work through that shite.” Earth ramparts, studded with bits of concrete laced with reinforcing rods formed around Silent Knight. A moment later, the ground shuddered and more heaved up to give Corbie and Leader and the dogs life-saving shelter.

  “This won’t last. We need to go on the offensive!” Think!

  Wait…Knight’s suit didn’t just collect and project sound, he could absorb it, maybe cancel it out in an area. Couldn’t he? “Knight!” The armored engineer canted his head to the side, still firing sonic blasts. “Take all of the noise! Even the ultrasonic stuff!” Knight didn’t make any move for a moment, then finally nodded. It was dangerous for his suit to absorb too much energy like that; it could become catastrophically damaged, maybe even kill Knight.

  Corbie went around the right side of the pillar this time, switching his grip back to his strong hand. He fired two bursts, but something was wrong. He saw the muzzle flash, felt the PDW shake with recoil, and felt the hot brass of the casings as the odd few bounced off the back of his hand. But he heard nothing.

  The effect on Leader and the dogs was immediate. The dogs stood up and scrambled to join their pack-leader under the cover of Vickie’s ramparts. Leader stopped writhing and gathered them in around him.

  Evidently what Knight was doing didn’t much effect the headset. “I can’t heave up the floor under those guys and knock them off balance. Those are load-bearing pillars they’re under, I’ll bring the whole thing down on you.” A pause. “But I can screw with their comms.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Do it, Vix.” He turned to Leader, shouting. Back this far, they were out of the field that Knight was absorbing sound in. “We’ve gotta help Knight, right now! His suit can’t take much more, bullets or sound.” Leader nodded; a second late all of the dogs ran along the wall to the right until they were out of sight. Corbie noticed that very few shots were directed at them. Peeking around the edge of the pillar and over the top of the earthen barrier, he noticed that some of the mercs seemed to be confused. Their attention was split and they were distracted; a few were yelling at the others, trying to direct them, but it was clear that their ordered ranks were in chaos. It looked as if Vix was doing something a little more elaborate than just jamming the mercs’ comm system. “Form up on Knight! Let’s give ’em hell!”

  Corbie vaulted over the barrier, bringing his PDW up. He started firing measured bursts, forcing some of the mercs to keep their heads down; he even caught one that wasn’t as fast as his friends, shooting him in the chest. Leader was covering Corbie from the barrier; as soon as Corbie reached Knight, it was Leader’s turn to advance. “Cavalry is here!” Just when it looked like the mercs were about to regroup and focus their fire again, a snarling blur of teeth and fur streaked in behind the mercs from the right. Leader’s dogs tore into them, knocking mercs off of their feet and mauling the odd one here and their. Their speed and the nanoweave overcoats they had been fitted with protected them from any retaliation; whenever it looked like a merc was getting his bearings and was about to fire on an individual dog, the rest of the pack mobbed him.

  Corbie, Knight, and Leader all started to advance towards the mercs’ position; Corbie and Leader kept crouched behind Knight for limited cover, fi
ring whenever a target of opportunity popped up. Knight was still firing sonic blasts, but was now keeping them narrow beam and focused for individual targets since the dogs were in the middle of things. Corbie’s PDW ran dry when they were about fifteen paces away from the mercs. “Mag!” he shouted. Leader poked around Knight, firing his pistol to cover Corbie; by the time he was empty himself, Corbie had already changed mags and was firing again. Leader tapped Corbie on the shoulder twice.

  “They’re all down, mate! The dogs just informed me.” As one, Corbie and Leader ran up to the mercs’ barricade and aimed over it; all of the mercs were either dead or incapacitated. Several of them were being sat on by Leader’s dogs. Leader moved quickly to those who looked as if they could still get up, securing their weapons and zip-tying their hands behind their backs. Some looked as if they were bleeding from the ears; the dogs must’ve removed whatever hearing protection they had been wearing, opening them up for Knight’s blasts. Not bad for a pack of mutts.

  There was still gunfire coming from the direction of the main entrance. “We’ve gotta get to the brothers.” The team moved as fast as they dared; no telling what other traps the mercs might have set up to cover their backs. Corbie took the lead this time; when he rounded the corner he saw why there was still shooting going on. Motu and Matai both seemed to be blinded still; the gas had mostly dispersed, but the effects would take hours or some decontamination wipes before they went away. Matai was in better shape than his brother, though; he was actually behind Motu, steering him like a wrecking ball with legs. “Left brother! No, your other left!” Pushing and cajoling Motu, Matai was wrestling him into position to beat the remaining mercs. There were already a half dozen of their still forms on the ground.

  “It’s Corbie, we’re comin’ in behind them to help you lot out. Try not to squish us.” He motioned with his free hand to the rest of the team; as one, they sprang from cover. It was easy work, since the mercs all had their backs turned. The first one that Corbie spotted, he ran up to; the merc turned just in time to receive a kick on the point of his chin, knocking him cold. His friends on either side went down just as quickly; the ones on the left were convulsing, while the ones on the right were trounced by a combined weight of about one thousand pounds of dog.

  “Boss,” Matai was on his knees, his arms wrapped around one of Motu’s legs. “I think I need a hand.” Corbie left the others to secure whatever mercs remained alive, opting to run over to the brothers. Motu’s armor sloughed off, clattering on the floor; his eyes and nose were streaming in between hacking coughs. Matai looked the same, save for a hole on the left side of his nanoweave jacket. Blood was coming out in frothy bubbles.

  “I see you, Med is alerted. Bella’s on the way, she’s not more than a hundred yards from you guys.” Corbie sighed with relief. Vix was on the job again. He really wanted to meet this bird.

  “I got a blowout kit.” Leader was right next to him now.

  “Tell him to get a chest seal out.” New voice. Belladonna’s? Sounded like her. “That’s a pneumothorax wound. Sucking chest wound to you. Swab it down, follow the instructions on the packaging and slap the chest seal on it, I’m almost there.”

  Leader fumbled him what looked like a piece of plastic and a big pad of gauze; he followed the ECHO Med leader’s orders.

  “Corbie, we have a problem.” Knight was standing over him, looking down.

  “I know, mate, I’m on top of it.”

  “No, a bigger problem.” He canted his head to the side. “I can hear it.”

  Leader’s head bobbed up, then his eyes grew wide. “He’s right. The dogs smell it, too.” Corbie stood up and scanned; one of the mutts, a bloodhound mix, was barking frantically at a large duffel bag. He ran over, shooing the mutt away as he unzipped it.

  “Oh. Shit.”

  The duffel was filled with explosives. All of them were wired with blasting caps or some sort of electrical trigger; bombs weren’t Corbie’s area of expertise. He didn’t have to be an expert, however, to recognize the little red LED countdown timer, with barely thirty seconds left on it. “It’s a bomb! Bastards must’ve triggered it when they saw they were screwed. We’ve got less than thirty before it goes!”

  “There’s not sufficient time to get the civilians out of here, much less Matai.” Knight examined the duffel. “With that quantity of explosive compounds, a significant section of the Underground will be destroyed, with attendant damage to the above ground sections.”

  “We’ve gotta get as many people clear as we can!” Leader was marshalling the dogs, sending them to start picking up civilians.

  “No time!” Without another thought, Corbie zipped the bag up and grabbed the carrying handle. He started running for the entrance, then kicked off with a leap into flight. He pumped his wings as hard as he could, sailing up through the ruined entrance to the Underground, his teammates cursing and calling after him. In an instant, he was awash in daylight and police sirens. For a split second he saw the remains of the SWAT van, the SWAT commander’s car, the ambulances and emergency personnel, even Bella running as fast as she could with ECHO Med right behind her. No time, no time! He flew straight up, straining against the weight of the duffel bag. He had to get high, as high as he could. How much time was left? He’d been mentally counting down, but had lost the count somewhere near the entrance. He was close to six hundred feet in the air when he judged that everyone else was safe. He did a pivot in the air, swinging around his left with the duffel in his outstretched hands. With a final grunt of effort, he flung the bag as hard and high into the air as he could, using the momentum to send it further. Then he folded his wings, dropping like a stone. Was I fast enough?

  Three seconds later, the bomb went off, and Corbie was swatted with the pressure wave. He went tumbling in the air, completely dazed. I’m going to die. At least I got the bomb clear. He mentally chuckled to himself, loopy from the blast. What a way to go; asphalt pancake. Road pizza. New coat of red paint on some guy’s car.

  There was a string of curses in his ear. At least, he thought they were curses; he didn’t recognize any of the words. But as he somersaulted end over end, heading down towards a construction site, he was pretty sure he was hallucinating as well, because—well, because what looked like a Sandworm out of Dune seemed to be reaching for him, coming up to swallow him.

  Then he hit it. And instead of dying, he yelped with pain. Not the worst pain he’d ever felt though, just one of his wings getting twisted the wrong way, and his plummet turned into a kind of end-over-end roll down a long, steep slope, an angle that deepened and smoothed the closer he got to the ground until he came to rest in a pile of sand as fine and powdery as talcum.

  Groggily, he tried to lift his head up before letting it fall back in a puff of dust. “Am I dead? It’d be a downer if I am.”

  “You’re not dead. Bella might kill you for that stunt, but you’re not dead yet. Don’t move. Panacea and Gilead are hopping the fence to get to you.”

  His head cleared some, and he painfully tried to sit up. “What about the others? The people on the ground? Matai? Is everyone alright? What about the civilians?” The questions poured out of him as fast as he could say them. His heart was racing again.

  “They’re fine. Or they will be. Lots of shattered windows, a pissed off SWAT commander, half of downtown has ringing ears, and we’ve scrambled CCCP Med as well as ECHO. Shut up.”

  “Average day at work then, right love?”

  “Pretty much. Now shut up.”

  “I recall someone saying a little something about beer being on her, after this gig. Make it a case, love.”

  “You got it.”

  He fell backwards, another cloud of dust going up. “Now I’ll shut up.”

  * * *

  Verdigris watched in utter disbelief as his beautifully constructed plan fell completely apart. None of the important targets were dead, only some of the minor players; and not nearly enough of those! That damned blue medic had been dis
patched with a competent team and somehow CCCP had gotten wind of the situation and showed up with a team of their own; all but a few of the Support Ops at the cafe would live. Worse yet, the contracted mercenaries had failed to die themselves; a handful had been taken into custody by Corbie and his team.

  This was an utter disaster. And not the sort of one that Verdigris had wanted to see.

  Khanjar folded her arms across her chest, grinning. “Is there a third act? That one was rather one-sided and boring, if you ask me, Dom.”

  He turned abruptly to glare at her, and what she must have seen in his eyes made the grin vanish. She had never seen him this way, that much he was quite sure of. How could she? In all the time she had known him, she had never seen him fail. Not once. Not ever. There had been speedbumps and unexpected events with some of his plans, but he had always had another pawn to bring in to play. But this was an outright failure. It wasn’t something that Dominic Verdigris III could abide.

  He turned back to the monitors, cold hatred in his heart. This wasn’t the doing of that incompetent blue bimbo; she didn’t have the smarts to send in, not just a whole team, but exactly the right team. She wouldn’t have been able to call CCCP. And she wouldn’t have gotten the intel on the Underground that had allowed Corbie and his crew to move in smoothly, avoiding the traps his trained mercs had set up.

  “Who could have done that magic with the earth?” Khanjar wondered aloud. “ECHO doesn’t have anyone like that on-site.”

  Verdigris spared her a single look of disdain at the mention of magic before turning back to the monitors. His fingers were already flying over his keyboard, punching in commands. “Insignificant. Probably some random meta triggering. What’s more important is, who coordinated that operation? There. Her.” He tapped the display twice, bringing a log up in full screen. “She’s the one that called in Belladonna and the med team, and also had some discreet calls, probably to Corbie’s team. Ramona Ferrari. Look at all of those comm calls, hm? Very busy for a nosy little detective.” He tapped on the keyboard a few more times, bringing up dozens of records; case logs, phone conversations, times when she had entered and left the ECHO campus, and countless other details all centered on Ramona. He smiled grimly. “Well, this isn’t a complete disaster, after all. At least now I know who’s playing the other side of the chess board. It seems I underestimated her.”