Skybreach (The Reach #3)

by Mark R. Healy

  His eyes fell on Talia, and she smiled, offering him a silent nod of approval. Silvestri smiled thinly in return, obviously not relishing the retelling of the story. Talia understood why he had done it, however. He was attempting to step up to the role of leading Skybreach, of inspiring those around him. She admired that.

  “How did you make it through the wastes?” she said.

  There was a chiming sound, and the elevator began to slow. Silvestri gave her a wink.

  “That is a story for another day.”

  The others seemed to shake themselves out of their stupor, concealing weapons and neatening their appearance as they prepared to leave the elevator. Lazarus straightened at Talia’s side, causing the wheelchair to groan in protest under his weight.

  “May the shadows flee before us,” he said softly.

  “What?” Talia said, but before he could respond, the doors opened on the Atrium and the afternoon sunlight flooded the compartment.

  29

  Duran’s breath was ragged and his legs ached. The flashlight beam bounced across the tunnel as he ran, sending shadows scattering before them.

  He and Zoe were making one hell of a racket, he knew that. The sound of their boots thumping on the tracks must have been reverberating for hundreds of metres in both directions. It couldn’t be helped. Oberend was somewhere ahead, skulking in the darkness of the tunnels, and Duran had to reach him before he could slip away again.

  At least, Duran hoped Oberend was ahead of them. Robson had failed to answer his holophone the last two times Duran had tried to call him, and at this point he had no way of knowing whether his target had left the transit system or not. They’d been running for what seemed like an eternity, but which in reality was probably more like ten minutes. They’d passed two waypoints, but both exits had been locked, so they’d had no choice but to keep moving through the tunnels.

  “Do you think we’ve lost him?” Zoe said at his side. Although she sounded somewhat breathless, she had not held him back during the run – she was in good shape and, if anything, Duran had held her back.

  “He’ll be here somewhere,” Duran said adamantly, even though he had been wondering the same thing. “Just keep going.” He turned to look at her. “Can you try Robson again? We’re pretty much blind without his help.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.” Zoe called the number on her holophone and put the call on speaker as it began to ring. Seconds passed, then more, and there was no reply. Zoe lifted her hand to terminate the call when suddenly it answered.

  “Songbird,” came Robson’s voice. There was a hoarseness to it that Duran hadn’t heard before, and he and Zoe exchanged a curious glance.

  “Switch, you haven’t been answering. You okay?” Zoe said.

  “Not really. The proverbial has hit the fan here.”

  “Huh? What’s going on?” Zoe said.

  The was no immediate reply. Instead they heard the sound of rustling fabric and a zipper being rapidly opened or closed.

  “Some guests have arrived.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zoe said.

  “There’s a pack of assholes trying to smash their way into the hideout through the back entrance.”

  “Who?” Duran said.

  “How the hell should I know? Probably more of those goddamn looters looking for another target.” There was another rustling sound and something clattered noisily. “I’m sorry, guys. I have to get out of here.”

  “Wait there,” Zoe said, lifting her pace. “We’re coming back to help you.”

  “There’s no time, Songbird. Whatever’s going to happen will be over by the time you get back.” Another thump, then a dragging sound. “I can look after myself.”

  “Switch, we need an update on the target,” Duran said. “Can you tell us where he went?”

  “I’ve been just a bit pre-occupied, Phoenix,” Robson said ironically. “I lost eyes on him, but it doesn’t look like he’s still in the transit system. I think he left through either Waypoint Forty, or Forty-One.”

  “Which one, Switch?” Duran said. “This is important.”

  “If I had to bet, I’d say Forty-One, but I couldn’t say for sure. I’ve just unlocked the doors to both, anyway. You can take your pick.”

  There was light up ahead, and Duran spotted a worn sign that designated the area as Waypoint Forty. Zoe did not slow her pace as she diverted from the track and headed for the doorway, which, like the previous waypoints, had been covered outside by large amounts of hoarding.

  “Stay on the line, Switch,” Zoe said. “Keep me updated with what’s happening.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Wait!” Duran shouted, clutching at her wrist. He brought her to an abrupt halt and she turned to him, eyes blazing. “Switch said that Oberend probably went through Forty-One. That’s the next one along.”

  “Fuck Oberend,” Zoe snarled, wrenching herself free of his grasp. “I’m going to help Switch.”

  Duran lurched after her and grabbed her again. “He said he could take care–”

  “Get the fuck off me!” Zoe all but screamed, swinging her fist toward Duran’s face. He deflected the blow and pressed in closer to get inside the arc of any subsequent attacks.

  “You’re not thinking rationally!” Duran said. “Calm down for a second, all right?”

  “You don’t get it do you, Alec? I don’t care about your crusade against Oberend. I don’t care about your vengeance. I never did. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let a member of my team die because of it.”

  “Then why did you come along in the first place?”

  Zoe pushed away from him angrily. “Because I’m looking for a purpose, okay? I’m looking for a reason to keep on going.” She waved her hands helplessly. “You’ve found your purpose. That’s great, I’m happy for you. But killing Knile Oberend won’t give me any satisfaction, so it looks like you’re going to have to do it on your own.”

  “Zoe,” Duran said desperately as she turned to leave. “You can’t go.”

  She reached the glass doorway that led out of the waypoint and looked over her shoulder at him.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need you.” He thought desperately of a way to convey his feelings to her. “I know this sounds stupid, but you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in the last three years, okay?”

  “Cut the crap, Alec.”

  “Don’t ditch me here. Not now. We’re close to Oberend, so fucking close I can taste it. Stay with me a little longer and help me finish it.”

  “And what then? What happens after you’ve finally put a bullet in his head?”

  He shrugged helplessly. “You and I can figure that out together. We can find a way to make our own future, whatever that may be.”

  She shook her head sadly. “Unless you can let go of your obsession, you don’t have a future, Alec. You’ve become a slave to it. You can’t see reason anymore.” She turned the handle and opened the door. “I’m not sure what lies ahead of you, but I know that I’m not a part of it.”

  She left without another word, allowing the door to close slowly behind her. Duran stared after her for a moment, then let out a bellow of rage and frustration. How could she make him choose like this? Why now, when he was so close to finishing it?

  He had to try again. He had to convince her.

  Duran ran to the door and turned on the handle, but it was stuck fast. It wouldn’t budge.

  Goddammit. It’s locked again.

  Duran looked out into the concourse, raising his hand to thump on the glass in order to attract Zoe’s attention, but he stopped dead, aghast.

  Zoe was not far away, standing as still as a statue. Two Enforcers were advancing on her, rifles raised. They were shouting something at her that Duran couldn’t hear through the glass.

  Beyond, Duran could see three more Enforcers wrestling with a man on the ground over by the far wall of the concourse, perhaps twenty metres away. The man screamed in pro
test and turned his face as the men in black pinned his arms, and Duran saw that it was one of the members of Children of Earth.

  There was something bulky strapped around his midriff.

  Duran’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, fuck…”

  His eyes returned to Zoe, who was slowly walking back toward the glass door with her hands above her head, the Enforcers behind her shouting instructions with their rifles pointed at the middle of her back.

  Duran yanked furiously on the door handle, tugging with such ferocity that his arms shuddered with each impact, but it was no use.

  He stepped back and pulled out the .38 he’d taken from the stockpile at Scimitar and fired twice at the glass wall at the side of the door, but he only managed to put a couple of small rounded fracture patterns in the material.

  Ballistic glass. Fucking perfect.

  He looked out at Zoe again, and he could see that she had lowered the hand carrying the holophone to her ear. She was still on the call with Robson.

  Duran thumped on the glass and pointed frantically at the lock, but she wasn’t paying any attention to him.

  Robson finished stuffing his gear into the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. He looked around at the surveillance room that had been his home for the past few years and felt an overwhelming sense of sadness come over him.

  He’d enjoyed his time here, enjoyed the company of the friends he’d made. He was going to miss watching over the Reach, coordinating his operatives. Hell, he was even going to miss the snarky comments of that grumpy bastard de Villiers.

  This wasn’t the life he’d once imagined for himself, but it was as close as he had come to achieving happiness during his time in the Reach.

  He briefly considered torching the gear, knowing how dangerous this surveillance equipment could be in the wrong hands, but then shrugged.

  Screw it. You cretins can have it.

  In hindsight, Robson knew that he should have left with de Villiers and Jovanovic. They’d been right. The writing had been on the wall. The end was here and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  No good dwelling on it now, he supposed.

  At least he could still get out of here while he was still breathing, a luxury many others in the Reach would not be afforded.

  “I’m on my way out,” he said into the phone as he started along the corridor, but there was no reply from Zoe. He’d heard Duran and her yelling at each other, then a few moments of silence, and now the sound of voices he didn’t recognise. They were shouting incoherently. “Songbird, you with me?” he said.

  Still no reply.

  Unsettled, he kept the phone close to his ear as he began to run. Behind him he could hear the thugs still hammering away at the door. He only hoped they would be held up long enough for him to get well clear of the hideout. Outnumbered as he was, there would be no chance of standing up to them in a direct confrontation.

  He was going to move a long way from the Reach, he decided. His sister had once operated a small wind farm out in the lowlands, and he hoped that she and her family were still there. It was a simple existence, and the life expectancy was pretty poor, given the amount of toxins out there, but perhaps he could find happiness again for a little while at least.

  He rounded a corner and came face to face with three strangers emerging from the kitchen. One of them was eating a bowl of Robson’s homemade mush, taking greedy spoonfuls of the stuff and jamming them into his mouth. The other two carried pistols at their side.

  Both Robson and the three intruders stopped suddenly and stood there staring at one another.

  “How did you get in here?” Robson said.

  “Found a door open,” one of the men said, and the other two laughed.

  “I highly doubt that.” Robson narrowed his eyes. “Put that down,” he growled at the man with the bowl. “That’s mine.”

  The man glanced down at the bowl as if weighing up whether to comply, then made a deliberate scoop with the spoon and took another mouthful.

  “What is this, anyway?” the man said as he chewed. “Pigeon shit?”

  Robson’s hand dropped to the pistol at his hip. “You do that again, and I’m gonna put a round in your guts. I’ll make you watch that pigeon shit dribble out of the bullet hole.”

  “That so?” the man said, amused. He dipped the spoon into the bowl again.

  Robson snapped the gun out of its holster and let rip, the bullet shattering through the bowl and sending grey mush flying. The man made a strangled, gurgling sound as the bullet ripped into his belly and fell to the ground.

  Robson was already moving to his next target, firing as the second man brought his gun upward and hitting him twice in the chest. He swivelled again, but the third man was already staring down the barrel at him, and before he could shoot he felt a hideous pain in his chest, and then he was screaming, falling backward as the man fired again and again, and soon he felt no more.

  Zoe was still moving slowly toward the glass, and Duran could do nothing but watch.

  He couldn’t hear what was happening on the other end of the call, but her face was becoming more bleak by the second. He thumped on the glass again, and her eyes drifted over him as if he wasn’t even there. She seemed lost, disconnected.

  She looked like someone who had abandoned all hope.

  Suddenly there was gunfire from nearby, and newcomers appeared from the adjoining corridors outside the waypoint. Even from this distance, Duran could see the circular markings on their foreheads.

  More Children of Earth. Shit!

  The Enforcers who had bailed Zoe up now spun away to face the new threat, returning fire as they scrambled to find cover. Sensing the opportunity for her to flee, Duran redoubled his efforts to attract her attention, slamming on the glass with such force that it rattled in the door frame.

  Zoe, however, was not looking at him. She was listening to the phone with a faraway look in her eye, and then suddenly a look of utter despair came across her face. Now she lifted desolate eyes to Duran, allowing the holophone to slip from her grip and clatter to the floor.

  Behind her, the firefight raged on, but she seemed oblivious to what was going on around her. Duran saw that two of the Enforcers who had been grappling with the man on the ground had been shot, and now the man was reaching around to his back with a maniacal look in his eye.

  “Zoeee!” Duran screamed. He slammed on the door again. “Get the fuck out of there!”

  She either couldn’t hear him, or simply didn’t want to. Her eyes met his one last time, and her lips moved slightly as she uttered something that may have been an apology, or perhaps a farewell.

  Then she slumped to the floor and sat there, defeated.

  One of the insurgents hurled a grenade toward the Enforcers and they ducked for cover.

  Duran backed up, preparing to take a running leap at the door to try to force it open. The lights outside flickered as the grenade went off, and then a large black shape seemed to loom over the doorway, like a spectre of death. Before Duran could focus upon it, an almighty blast shattered the windows before him. Duran was thrown off his feet and collided painfully with the unyielding floor behind him, and then the world turned to black.

  30

  Knile had spoken about the Atrium many times before, but Talia wasn’t quite prepared for what she saw when those elevator doors opened.

  The place was beautiful, unlike anything else she had ever seen before. In some ways she felt that the elevator had transported them not to the top of the Reach, but to another planet entirely. The Atrium was far more open than she would have imagined, a spacious and uncluttered expanse surrounded by tall, arched columns and a wire balustrade. The panorama beyond was equally breathtaking, the red sun hanging low and dazzlingly bright over the landscape below.

  Toward the centre of the Atrium lay the Stormgates, imposing constructs of black steel that housed glowing blue energy fields within. Beyond those lay the central column of the Atrium, a thick, roun
ded pillar that contained the final elevator that would take them upward to where both the roof and the railcar would be waiting.

  There were more people here than Talia expected. Some of them stood at the balustrade, staring out into the emptiness, while others waited near the Stormgates with suitcases at their feet, as if waiting for the gates to magically open and allow them through. Talia could see a cluster of people just outside one of the Stormgates, discussing something with a Redman on the other side. A woman with long, unkempt hair stepped forward, a wailing baby held aloft in an obvious attempt to gain sympathy, but the Redman merely shook his head and turned his back on her, leaving both she and the infant stranded.

  “Keep it cool,” Silvestri said, walking forward calmly. The others followed his lead. “Whatever happens, don’t overreact.”

  “What if the chips don’t work?” Yun said.

  “Then we’ll figure something out,” Silvestri said. “We can go back and rework the chips, try again tomorrow.”

  Talia wasn’t sure if that were really an option, but she understood where Silvestri was coming from. If things didn’t go exactly to plan, there was no point in panicking and giving themselves away. That could only end in disaster.

  There were no Enforcers present in the Atrium, she noted. She recalled Knile saying that the men in black weren’t permitted by the Consortium to loiter here, and it seemed that policy hadn’t changed, even in light of recent events. The fact that the Enforcers weren’t around would work in Skybreach’s favour, she figured, but it wasn’t even close to being a game changer. The Redmen were still the major stopping block, just as they always had been.

  “The Crimson Shield have increased their numbers,” Lazarus rumbled quietly from his wheelchair.

  “Yes,” Silvestri said grimly as they walked. The arched Stormgates were nearer now, becoming more imposing by the second. “There used to be two Redmen. I count four now.”