Keith shook his head, tasting blood. He took stock of the situation—forcing himself to remain conscious. He was hanging upside down in his seat, suspended nearly seven feet off the floor. The cabin was dimly illuminated with flashing red status lights and the occasional sparking conduit. The only thing immediately in his field of vision was the area directly below him, which was strewn with the shattered pieces of Luna’s field equipment, weapons, and ammunition.
Well … at least we didn’t explode, Keith thought, slowly regaining some of his bearings.
He glanced up and could see that all of his team members were still securely fastened in their seats. He tried to access the team comm, but all he got in return was an earful of static followed by silence and a depolarized faceplate.
Keith swore under his breath, reached up to the side of his helmet, and flicked the external reset button. A moment later his heads-up display flickered and powered up, filling the inside of his helmet with his team’s vital signs. They were battered, but alive.
Keith reached one hand down to his harness release while firmly grasping his chair with the other. His fingers pressed the red button and the seat restraints disengaged with a loud click. He quickly grabbed onto the chair with both hands and swung himself down onto the chopper’s inverted ceiling, wincing as he steadied himself.
“Perkins, Rush, Everybody; sound off.”
Each of the Agents gave their respective replies—accompanied by moans and curses—and slowly lowered themselves to the floor, one after the other.
“That is the last time I let Alex fly!” Agent Fox wheezed, limping into the passenger hold with one leg dragging awkwardly behind him.
Keith looked him over and winced. His HUD registered that Terence’s leg was shattered in several places.
“Take it easy, Fox,” Keith said, moving to support his friend before the shock of his injuries began to set in, “You’re banged up pretty bad there.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Terence replied through clenched teeth, draping his arm over Keith’s shoulder. “That idiot computer flew us right into the ground! If I ever get my hands on his programming … I’ll delete every last terabyte of it!”
Keith helped Terence into a sitting position and removed the armor plates fastened to his broken leg. He examined the suit for any ruptures. Finding none, he set about throwing together a makeshift splint from the twisted debris strewn around the crash site.
“Well, the good news is your suit’s intact,” he said strapping the hastily assembled splint to Terence’s leg, “The bad news is, you’re not going to be going anywhere for a long time.”
“I hear you there,” Terence replied, with a groan. “I never liked the swamp anyway. Not enough space for flying. But never mind what I like. Just find the girl and get back here quick. I doubt I can keep the scavengers away for very long.”
“I appreciate the offer, Fox. But there’s no way I’m not leaving you here alone.” Keith said then turned and beckoned to Perkins who was helping Rush and Patterson salvage munitions from the twisted remains of the Stratocruiser’s weapons lockers.
“Yes, sir? What do you need?”
“Perkins, I want you to stay here with Fox and try to get a signal to the chief. He probably picked up our auto-distress call when we went down. But I want you to keep trying to raise him, just in case.”
“Yes, sir.” Perkins replied, seating himself on a badly dented supply crate near the hole in the chopper’s stern.
Keith walked toward what was left of the aircraft’s weapon lockers, stooped, and picked up a handful of magazines from where they lay strewn across the deck, tucking them into his ammo harness. “I want you to send a signal to Unitech every fifteen minutes or so and check in with us via the team comm every half hour. If you get through to anyone, let us know ASAP. We’ll start heading back as soon as we find Miss McKelly.”
“Will do, sir,” Perkins replied, laying his weapon across his lap, “Hey listen … you guys be careful out there. Don’t do anything stupid unless you have to.”
Keith nodded and waved to the two remaining agents crouched just outside the chopper. “All right. Paterson, Rush, you’re with me. Miss McKelly fell out about ten to fifteen miles back, so the sooner we get moving the better.”
“Sounds to me like we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” Agent Rush commented, falling in behind Keith.
Keith nodded. “I’m guessing a good twelve hours at least.”
“Then what are we waiting around here for? Let’s move!” Agent Patterson said.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully anxious, Patterson.”
Patterson replied, “It’s getting dark. And that’s when all the snakes and gators and stuff come out to hunt.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few snakes and lizards?” Agent Rush said with a choking laugh.
“Hey, these gators ain’t lizards. They’re mutants. Big. Freakin’. Mutants. I’m telling you, if I see something moving out there, I’m shooting first and asking questions later!”
“I hope you’ll check your target first, Patterson,” Keith replied coolly, snapping on his LED light. “Remember, Miss McKelly did land in the water. I’d hate to have to explain how we accidentally shot the woman we were assigned to protect. Somehow I doubt the Chief will be impressed with the I-thought-she-was-an-alligator story.”
Agent Patterson muttered something under his breath then nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll watch my targets. But if I get eaten alive, I’m holding you two personally responsible!”
“I doubt you’ll get eaten alive. I mean; have you seen yourself lately?” Rush asked, coughing again.
“All right, team. That’s enough,” Keith cut in, stopping any further banter. “Get your minds in the game. We’ve got a job to do here. Let’s try not to mess it up.”
“Yes, sir.” Both men replied in unison.
Keith allowed himself a slight half smile. “Okay then. Let’s move. I’d hate to keep Miss McKelly waiting.”
If she’s still waiting. He thought solemnly.
Chapter 11
Agonizing pain cut through the blackness filling Luna’s mind. Slowly she forced her eyes open.
She was lying on her stomach, her cracked, blood-smeared faceplate pressed into the mud beneath her. She let out a strangled moan.
What happened? Where am I? Luna asked herself, painfully rolling over onto her back. She coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. Panicking, she struggled to breathe. It felt as if every bone in her body was broken.
She wrapped her arms around her heaving chest and forced herself to remain calm.
She’d gone into the swamp for samples—she remembered that much at least. It was what happened next that was confusing. She closed her eyes, focusing on the last few things she could remember: going into the ruins, finding the protozoa, the ambush …
The ambush! she thought, her eyes snapping open. They’d been attacked! The aircraft had been hit. Keith had tried to help her, but he’d been too slow—she’d fallen out of the chopper!
Well … that explains the pain.
Her HUD flickered dimly, obscuring her view of the evening sky. She flicked her eyes across the screen and selected her suit’s bio-monitor. An instant later a holographic image of her body and internal organs filled her vision. The damaged or unhealthy parts of her anatomy were highlighted in red: a color-coding system so simple even a child could understand it. Which meant that—even in her present state of shock—she had little trouble realizing the extent of her injuries.
This is bad, really bad. She winced as she scanned the holographic image. Several of her ribs were broken, her shoulder was a mangled mess, and she’d nearly bitten through her bottom lip.
Well … at least my spine is intact. She closed the bio-monitor display and tried to open a comm channel to Keith and the other agents.
“Agent Tagawa? Terence? … Anyone?” She coughed. “Please … I’m hurt … badly. If someone can hear m
e … please … I need help. … Hello? Anybody?”
“What was that? I thought I saw something moving!” A voice in the distance caused Luna’s heart to race, sending a dull, shuddering ache through her ribcage.
She could see two red dots moving toward her on her helmet’s motion detector, and she felt a wave of fear sweep over her. Were they friends? Or were they enemies come to gun her down where she lay?
Please let them be friendly, she thought, turning her head toward the movement.
She could just make out the outlines of two people trudging through the swamp toward her. From where she lay she couldn’t tell if they were agents or not. All she knew for certain was that they were human and her best chance of survival.
“… Over here!” she choked, raising her good arm. “… Please … I’m over here!”
One of the shadowy figures stopped and pointed. They’d seen her.
Luna let her arm fall to her side and waited, fighting to stay awake.
A few minutes later she heard the heavy squelching of booted feet near her head, and she looked up to see two gun-toting men clad in dark, water-resistant clothing, staring down at her. Their mouths were covered with crude breathing apparatuses so she couldn’t see their expressions, but the devices didn’t mute their heavily accented voices.
“It’s a chick,” one of them said, shining a light in her face. “Hey … she don’t look too good.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” the other man said, tapping her mangled shoulder with his rifle, causing Luna to recoil in pain. “Funny … I ain’t never seen a girl agent around these parts before. They must be getting mighty desperate if they’re sending in girlies.”
“Please …” Luna wheezed, causing the two men to take a step back and raise their weapons, “I need a doctor.”
The two Swampers exchanged looks and then knelt down beside her.
“How are you still alive?” the first man asked. “We saw you fall outta that chopper. That must have been at least a hundred feet, no one could survive that!”
“Maybe it was her Techie suit? Might have absorbed the impact?” the other man offered.
“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “All right girly. We’re going to take you back to our camp, see? Then we’ll have the doc get you all fixed up. But on one condition: you stick around for a while and tell our boss everything about all your little Techie friends. Okay?”
Luna still didn’t know what a ‘Techie’ was, but she decided to play along. “All right … I’ll do what ever you want. … Just help me.”
The man spoke into a battered communication device fastened to his belt, “Hey, team, we’ve found one of those agent types. And dig this: it’s a chick! She’s banged up pretty bad, so tell doc to get ready. Oh, and tell Leon, she said she’ll talk.”
He finished and knelt beside Luna, placing a grimy hand on her helmet in what she hoped was an expression of compassion. “Everything’s going to be all right, girly. We’ll get you all fixed up in no time. Okay?”
About fifteen minutes latter, Luna heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Before long a rusty vehicle swerved into view and came to a stop near where she lay.
A group of Swampers stepped out, moved her broken body onto a crude stretcher, and carried her around to the back of their vehicle: a crudely assembled cross between a boat and an armored troop transport.
It took the Swampers more than a few tries and a considerable amount of manpower to heft her aboard—each attempt sending a new wave of agony shooting through her. The troop carrier’s engine roared to life and the custom-made vehicle began to rattle through the swamp. She clenched her jaw and screwed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to take her mind off the agony her “rescuers” were putting her through.
The Swampers drove for almost a half hour, cutting across the swamp like a juggernaut. Someone had been kind enough to remove her helmet and start an IV of painkillers. With her mind no longer clouded with pain, she was finally able to properly assess her surroundings.
There were no windows, so all she had to go on was the movement of the vehicle and the sound of waves splashing against its hull.
Even though the Swampers seemed like they would help her, she still felt uneasy, as if she were being held captive. What was it they’d said? Something like she’ll talk? What did they mean by that? What were they going to do to her?
She suddenly recalled the tracer chip in her arm.
Even though she hated the idea of having a foreign object lodged under her skin, she took some comfort in knowing that the agents back at Unitech would be able to track her—even rescue her. If she could keep the chip a secret, then she’d still have a fighting chance.
Just then the engines sputtered and stopped, and she heard the sound of people shouting and running on the deck above her, along with the occasional staccato of multi-caliber gunfire. There was a soft thud against the armored hull, and she heard a scream followed shortly by a splash. The men who had been riding alongside her in the main cabin leapt up, guns at the ready, and hurried for the access hatches leading out onto the vehicle’s roof.
What was happening?
Luna’s heart began to pound painfully in her chest, and she struggled to free herself from the straps holding her on the stretcher. There was more gunfire mingled with shouts and curses from the Swampers. She couldn’t believe her bad luck. For the second time that day she was on the receiving end of an attack. Only this time, she wasn’t quite sure who was attacking. Another gang of Swampers?
Luna undid the last strap and tried to rise, gasping as her crushed ribs shifted beneath her pressure suit. The gunfire had stopped now, and the only sound she could hear was that of her own heartbeat.
“Hello?” she called. Her wounded lip felt like putty from the erratically mixed painkillers.
“Is somebody out there?”
There was one last gunshot then a muffled yelp and a thud against the door. Luna gulped and swept her eyes across the room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. But the Swampers had taken everything with them when they’d run for the exits.
Luna balled her hands into tight fists and set her eyes on the door. She held her breath. The thought of dying was nothing new to her, but now that she was faced with almost certain death—from an attacker’s bullet, her injuries, or from the fungus growing inside her—she didn’t think she was ready. Was this really how it was all going to end?
The door swung open, and she closed her eyes.
Please let me survive this. There’s so much I still have to do!
Nothing happened. She kept waiting for the gunshot that would end her life, but it never came. Slowly she opened her eyes.
A man dressed in loose fitting, water-resistant clothing and pieces of rusty, dented armor stood in the doorway. Behind him, the two men who had been guarding the door lay unconscious.
The masked man held his hands palms out in the universal I-mean-you-no-harm gesture. Luna thought that his display of good intentions would be more believable if not for the crude helmet masking his face.
“It’s okay … I’m not going to hurt you.”
The words were kind, but Luna was still skeptical. She could see that the man carried a collection of blades and handguns tucked into various holsters draped across his body as well as a long, black rifle slung across his back.
“Who are you? she asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice.
“Well, people around here call me Ben. As to what I’m doing here—I’m trying to save your life.”
“Oh … really?”
“Yeah, really,” Ben replied, taking a step forward.
“Just … just stay were you are, okay? Don’t come near me!”
He stopped. “I really am here to help you.”
A circular blue light flashed on Ben’s chestplate, and she was surprised to hear another voice speaking.
“With all due respect, ma’am,” the voice sa
id, “my master is telling the truth. We are here to rescue you. And If I were you, I’d accept our generous offer. I can assure you that it will be in your best interest, and will also be far better then any offer Mr. Vespasien and his gang of hooligans can make.”
An AI unit? Luna thought, gasping painfully.
The strange man took several steps forward and knelt down to look her in the eye. Being unable to breathe—and therefore unable to complain—Luna glared into the pair of slits cut into his armored breath-mask. Much to her surprise, the dark brown eyes beneath the mask were soft and kind.
Maybe he really does want to help me.
“Please,” he said, softly, “let me get you out of here. Let me take you back where you belong. Those guys will be coming around soon, and if they do, we’ll have one a heck of a time getting out of here alive. The choice is yours. Will you stay here—with them?” He motioned to the unconscious men. “Or will you come with me?”
Luna—who was still struggling to breathe—glanced at the still bodies then back to Ben. Despite his rough exterior there was something in the way he moved that spoke of a greater purpose, something she hadn’t detected in the other Swampers.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, she actually felt almost safe around him. … Almost.
Slowly, she nodded. She whispered her reply, “Okay … I’ll go with you.”
“Okay,” Ben replied.
Rising to his full height, he addressed his AI unit, “Ed, scan her bio signs. Let me know if she can be moved.”
A beam of pale blue light erupted from the glowing circle mounted on Ben’s armor and drifted over Luna’s body.
“Scans complete. Analyses: Subject has sustained extensive internal damage from her fall. However, I am not detecting any hemorrhaging. Subject seems stable enough to be carefully moved. I believe it is safe to assume that any further damage she may receive during transport can be easily remedied with an injection of bio-aid or other regenerative compounds of a similar nature. However, I strongly advise that the subject should be admitted to a hospital as soon as she returns to her point of origin. And I would recommend sedation of subject during transport.”
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