Assassination Protocol: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (Cerberus Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  One breath in, hold for two, then out. Again, slow and steady. Blood pumping through his veins, flooding his body with fresh oxygen. Hands steady, arms locked in place by the combat suit. Waiting, patient as always, for just the right second.

  He felt the moment it was time to take the shot. Even without Taia’s voice in his helmet, he knew it, all the way to the marrow of his bones. His finger squeezed the button on the under-barrel grenade launcher and, with a loud fwump, the RPPG shot off into the darkness.

  Twisting his head away from the inevitable glare of the grenade’s explosion, Nolan reached for the second plasma grenade and slammed it into the launcher. Even before the gun was ready for the second shot, the thunderous BOOM and a brilliant plume of white-hot light shattered the night sky.

  Nolan spun back around, rifle rising to take aim once more on the ship. He sucked in a sharp breath. What the hell?

  The starspeeder had somehow, impossibly, managed to avoid the exploding grenade. No, that wasn’t right. The ship hadn’t suddenly changed course—an errant gust of wind had blown his RPPG off target. Not only had the grenade missed the starspeeder, but that blindingly bright flash of light stole his element of surprise. With speed only possible from a trained pilot—a pilot as skilled as the ex-IAF goons now working for Wolfe—the ship banked hard to the right, cutting sharply north.

  Damn it! Nolan tracked the starspeeder’s path, desperately trying to line up another shot. But Wolfe’s pilot wasn’t taking any chances. Instead of steering out of the sharp turn, he was swinging the ship fully around and heading back the way it had come.

  Horror hardened in the pit of Nolan’s stomach. The success of his plan had hinged on Wolfe passing this precise spot on his way out of New Avalon. All Wolfe had to do was backtrack a few kilometers and use another path to leave the city, and Nolan would never be able to find him in time.

  In a matter of seconds, Wolfe would be out of his reach—possibly forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nolan had only an instant to react. No time for Taia to run calculations or to feed him data on how to line up the shot just right. Instinct, skill, and more than two decades spent behind a gun was all he had now.

  His body moved of its own accord, arms bringing the gun up to his helmet’s visor, eyes sighting through the scope, finger pressing the button to send the grenade flying. Another loud fwump and the plasma grenade hissed off into the darkness.

  For a heartbeat, panic crept into the back of Nolan’s mind. Had his aim been off? Would another crosswind kick up at just the wrong time? Even a fraction of a centimeter off-target, and Wolfe would get away.

  BOOM!

  Nolan turned away as the grenade’s explosion filled the air with a white-hot starburst, illuminating the fleeing ship. Gobs of white-hot plasma splattered the starspeeder, and a wave of heat and concussive force washed over its metal frame. Another explosion lit up the night sky as one of the engines gave out.

  Triumph surged within Nolan, but it faded a moment later as the starspeeder remained in the air. The fleeing ship wobbled and listed dangerously to one side, but three of the four engines remained active. The starspeeder limped along to the northwest, slowed yet moving fast enough to drift out of his range.

  Shit! He’d fired his last RPPG, which left him only his sniper rifle. Snapping the MK75 up, he sighted through the scope, studying the damaged starspeeder for anything he could target, any vulnerability to exploit. No way one of his bullets would cripple another engine, and there was no rear window to give him a view of his targets. Nothing he could do from this angle would work.

  Leaping to his feet, Nolan holstered the rifle on his back, spun, and raced toward the edge of the roof. “Taia, keep an eye on him!”

  He vaulted over the rooftop wall and plummeted through the empty air alongside the skyscraper. He dropped the thirty stories so fast the glass and metal structure was nothing but a blur. The ground raced up toward him, but he forced himself to wait until the last possible instant to kick on the boot thrusters and slow his descent. Just that small use dropped his power another five percent—the way his night was going, he’d need every joule he could demand from the suit.

  Heat billowed up around him as he neared the ground, the blistering wave kicking up dust, dirt, and debris. At his mental command, Taia shut off the thruster and he dropped the last five meters to land hard on the street. But his legs felt no impact and the interior of his suit cushioned his torso and neck. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was sprinting toward the nearby skimmer bike.

  “Which way?” he asked Taia as he swung a leg over the saddle.

  “Northwest,” the AI responded. The smart filaments in Nolan’s gloves slithered into the bike’s ignition, and the engine roared to life. “He’s three, four kilometers out.”

  Nolan gunned the hover engines and brought the skimmer bike whipping around. Gritting his teeth, he opened the throttle to maximum. The bike leaped forward so fast it snapped his head back—he’d have gotten whiplash if not for the protective helmet—but he bit back on a grunt of pain and clung to the speeding skimmer bike as it cut back and forth between the alleys in pursuit of the crippled starspeeder.

  “Taia, tell me you’ve got eyes on him!”

  Blurry, grainy video from New Avalon’s CCTV feed popped up on his HUD. This time, it was easy to spot Wolfe’s ship—how many other craft were ablaze, limping through the air above the Bolt Hole at a terrible tilt?

  Yet somehow, even with one engine crippled, the starspeeder managed to maintain speed and altitude, dodging the few buildings tall enough to rise in its path. Damn! Nolan couldn’t help a flash of admiration for whatever IAF-trained pilot was handling the vehicle. He’d seen ten-year veteran pilots suffer far worse fates with far less damage to their craft.

  That just means I’m going to have to bring down the bastard myself!

  “He’s making a break for Foundry District,” Taia warned.

  Nolan ground his teeth. The smokestacks and massive factory buildings of Foundry District would offer Wolfe’s limping ship more than enough cover to disappear. Once the starspeeder entered that haze of pollution and heat billowing up from the industrial section of New Avalon, Taia would lose him.

  There was only one option.

  “We need to get far enough in front of him that I’ve got a clear shot!” The starspeeder’s side windows were far too small; his only hope would be to put a bullet through the front windshield.

  “There’s only one place you’ll have a chance to do that.” A new route marked by a dotted red line traced a path through New Avalon. “But you’ll have to hurry!”

  “Get me there!” he shouted.

  “Hang on!”

  Taia sent the skimmer bike racing toward the highway, darted between two slow-moving wheeled vehicles, and zoomed up the on-ramp. Horns honked behind him, but Nolan was gone before they could shout curses at him. With the AI at the helm, the bike cut through the light traffic and zipped along the expressway, heading north toward Foundry District.

  Nolan glanced east, searching the sky for Wolfe’s ship. The heat of the vehicles he passed made it impossible to get a clear view with his helmet’s infrared vision, but the external sensors managed to catch a glimpse of the starspeeder. It was still limping along, but gaining speed as the remaining three engines compensated for the damaged thruster.

  Damn it! Wolfe was getting away.

  Nolan’s gaze snapped toward the massive structures of the industrial sector. Smokestacks nearly a hundred stories tall belched thick plumes of grey-white smoke that filled the air with a foul haze, and pillars of fire erupted from the tops of the factories that stood along New Avalon’s northwestern edge. Foundry District was a place of controlled chaos—AI-operated machines worked the factories that churned out everything from durasteel beams to sleek pleasure craft to clothing. Few real people called Foundry District home; those who worked the few human-requiring jobs in the factories and refineries lived in th
e Bolt Hole, too poor to afford better.

  That made the industrial sector the perfect place for Wolfe to hide. And the best place for Nolan to bring down his starspeeder with as few casualties as possible.

  The elevated expressway cut straight through the heart of Foundry District, but Nolan kept on course, circling the city’s northwestern edge. He had to get in front of Wolfe, which meant reaching the spot where the superhighway cut through the industrial sector. If he could just get there before Wolfe’s ship, he’d have a chance to put a bullet through the front windshield and take out the gangbanger. His mission—not the one for Agent Styver and the Protection Bureau, but the one he’d undertaken for the sake of peace in New Avalon—would be complete.

  Nolan zigzagged through the heavy traffic, weaving between skimmers and wheeled semi-trucks driving at a speed that felt way too sluggish for his reckless velocity. He craned his neck, searching the sky for any sign of Wolfe.

  There! The skimmer craft was still limping along but picking up speed. Nolan cursed. The sticky plasma had burned through the metal of one wing and damaged an engine, but the fires were guttering in the chilly wind above New Avalon. Wolfe had already reached the edges of Foundry District and banked west, heading straight toward the wall of smog that hung over the belching factories.

  Like hell! Nolan leaned over the handlebars and gunned the engine. Blistering waves of heat set the night shimmering, but Nolan ignored them. His combat suit protected his skin, and Taia would warn him if things got critical.

  Slowly, the ship drew closer, closer. Nolan felt a glimmer of hope as the highway cut sharply west, then circled back northeast. He just had to get there before Wolfe’s ship and he’d have a chance. It would be close—too damned close—but it was all he could do.

  “Taia, I need my hands!” Nolan lifted one foot to the handlebars, and a thread of smart metal fibers slithered out of the side of his boot and inserted into the ignition. A moment later, Nolan’s gauntlet pulled free, the steel filament no longer connected to the bike.

  Now for the suicidally difficult part.

  Nolan brought his other foot up, placed his boot flat onto the saddle of the skimmer bike. “Take over for me, Taia, but keep it steady!”

  “I’ve got you, Nolan!” The AI’s voice filled him with calm.

  Though it went against every instinct, Nolan forced himself to release his grip on the bike. The liquid metal of his combat suit locked his feet in place on the handlebars and saddle. Slowly, carefully, trusting Taia to keep him steady—both by limiting the movements of the skimmer bike and controlling his combat suit—he reached over his back and pulled his sniper rifle free of its magnetic holster.

  Panic surged within him as the bike leaned to one side, then back. “Steady, Taia!”

  “Trust me, Nolan! Just focus on taking the shot.”

  In that moment, Nolan knew without a shred of doubt that Taia would keep him safe. As ridiculous as it might sound, he did trust her. Just as she trusted him. He’d placed his life in her hands time and again, and she’d come through. It didn’t matter that she was “just a computer-generated intelligence”—to him, she had become as real and alive as anyone else in his life.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he brought the MK75 up, settled the butt into that spot between shoulder and chest that just felt right. Left hand steady, eye pressed to the scope, he sighted on his target.

  “Magnify.” The digital cameras set into the scope zoomed in to 20x magnification, giving him the first clear view of Wolfe. Or at least, the one he thought was Wolfe. All four of the people visible in the starspeeder’s cockpit wore heavy IAF-grade armor superior to his own outdated combat suit, complete with helmets. From this distance, there was no way of telling which one was the man who deserved the bullet to the brain.

  Nolan had time for a single shot. The starspeeder would pass overhead in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t risk hitting the wrong target and letting Wolfe get away.

  There was only one choice.

  The barrel of his rifle swiveled, barely a fraction of a centimeter of movement, just enough to center the crosshairs onto the helmet of the pilot. IAF armor might be heavy, but nothing was impenetrable—if one knew the right target.

  Nolan drew in a breath, held, exhaled. The crosshairs rested over the helmet’s visor, just at the upper seam over the right eye. Another breath, hold.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  The bullet burst a hole through the windshield of Wolfe’s starspeeder, sending spidery cracks radiating through the glass, and punched into the pilot’s helmet.

  In that instant, the skimmer bike steered toward the far edge of the highway, straight for the concrete guardrail. Nolan had no time to ask what Taia was doing.

  “Jump!” the AI’s voice echoed loud in his helmet.

  Without hesitation, Nolan leaped. He rocketed into the air, powered by the boot thrusters. Not a heartbeat too soon. Behind him, a sudden explosion billowed upward from the empty air above Foundry District, twenty meters off the highway’s edge. The concussive blast hurled him forward, but Taia had control of his suit. The AI compensated for his free-flying movement, kicking the legs of the suit back and pushing the thrusters into high gear. Nolan sped forward, faster now, but fully under control.

  His eyes locked on Wolfe’s ship. The starspeeder was spinning, yawing wildly, and falling faster toward a nearby factory building. It barely managed to avoid the towering steel monolith and disappeared out of Nolan’s sight behind the huge structure.

  Nolan waited, his breath frozen in his lungs, then cursed. No explosion echoed in the night. Somehow, impossibly, the craft hadn’t crashed into the factories or struck the ground hard enough to destroy the engines. It had doubtless sustained serious damage to the craft, but had landed without going up in a fireball.

  Which meant Wolfe had survived.

  Damn it! Nolan poured on the speed, grimacing as he watched the power level of his suit slowly dropping. Fifty-five percent. Fifty. Forty-five. Forty. Every second cost him precious energy, but he could afford no delays. He had to get to that ship before Wolfe clawed his way free and rabbited into the night.

  He flew around the building at full speed, and suddenly a hailstorm of heavy blaster bolts and bullets lit up the night sky, streaking toward him. Before he had time to register the threat, a bullet clipped his suit’s shoulder, just above the chestplate. The impact sent him hurtling, spinning out of control just as the starspeeder had been seconds before. He whirled and plummeted toward the ground at a dizzying, gut-wrenching speed.

  “Taia!” He couldn’t see anything; the world spun around so violently he was disoriented.

  “One second!” The AI sounded concentrated, even nervous. But, true to her word, a second later his uncontrolled whirling slowed as one of his boot thrusters fired a quick burst. Then the other, both at the same time, and his freefall toward the ground turned into a controlled descent.

  He managed to land on his feet, though he hit hard, grunting at the bone-jarring impact. Even with the combat suit’s custom-designed spinal supporters, pain flared up and down his back. The readout on his HUD showed thirty-five percent. Damn it! The shots had brought him down on the wrong side of the steel factory building, nearly five hundred meters from where Wolfe’s ship had crashed.

  Switching on the boots’ anti-grav function, Nolan skimmed toward the site of Wolfe’s crashed vehicle. No one was around at this time of night, only automated forklifts and worker drones. He paid them as little attention as they paid him, trusting that Taia would take care of scrubbing him off their video feeds.

  Right now, nothing mattered beyond putting Wolfe down once and for all.

  His gut clenched as he approached the edge of the building, and his muscles tensed in expectation of the impending threat awaiting him on the far side. As he skimmed around the corner, he brought the rifle up and sighted on the damaged starspeeder.

  Yet he saw no sign of Wolfe, or however many of the White Sharks goo
ns had survived the crash. Infrared and night vision would both be useless near the still-active engines. Gritting his teeth, he skimmed toward a nearby stack of steel girders, crouched, and drew out the MK75’s blaster rifle module. He dismantled the gun in the space of a few seconds, his hands going through the motions with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the shadows and ceaselessly moving AI-controlled machines.

  “Where is he?” Nolan asked. “Where did he—“

  “Look out!”

  Tracer bullets from a light machine gun carved a fiery path through the air, a blazing dark orange line headed straight toward him. Nolan had only a heartbeat to throw himself to the side, out of the line of fire. He landed in a side roll and came up to one knee, swiveling his gun toward the threat. Only to realize, too late, his rifle was useless in its current disassembled state.

  Adrenaline coursed through Nolan’s veins as more machine gun fire hissed toward him. Bullets pinged off the steel girders where he’d been kneeling or chewed up the permacrete street, sending gravel and chunks of metal flying all around him.

  Nolan leaped again, throwing himself behind a slow-moving forklift, then backpedaled in the other direction. The hail of bullets tore through the vehicle, puncturing the wheels and burning holes through the metal, leaving the vehicle a wreck as it strafed back across and pursued him. The M751 SAW’s steel-jacketed bullets could do far worse to his armor, flesh, and bone if they hit him.

  “Find them!” Nolan roared into his helmet.

  “Working on it,” Taia said. “Their armor’s got camouflage like yours. I’ve got to calculate their position based on trajectory of that machine gun fire, and that’s going to take a second.”

  “I might not have that long!” Nolan leaped over another stack of steel girders and ducked for cover. Not a second too soon. The light machine gun’s barking grew deafening, accompanied by the hammering rattle of bullets punching into the girders and concrete ground, or slicing the air overhead.