by A. G. Riddle
He peeled his sweat-soaked tunic off and shimmied his arms out, letting the tunic fall back to wrap around the chair. He poured a third drink with less care this time, splashing brown liquid onto the table, drank it down, and bent to untie his boots. His feet throbbed, but the sensation had faded as the drinks had taken effect.
A loud knock echoed from the door.
“What?”
“It’s Kamau.”
“Come.”
Kamau swung the door open, but he didn’t enter. Beside him stood a tall slender woman Rukin hadn’t seen before. Good. A new girl. Kamau had done well—the woman was older than Rukin’s typical taste, but he was in the mood for something different. Variety was the spice of life. There was something else about her. Her posture. The eyes—strength, not quite defiance. Confidence. No fear. She will learn.
Rukin stood. “She’ll do.”
Kamau nodded slightly, pushed the girl at her lower back to usher her in, and closed the door with a click.
The woman stared at the major, not bothering to take in his vast chamber.
“You speak English?”
She furled her brow and shook her head slightly.
“No, your lot never does, do they? No matter. We’ll do this caveman style.” He held a hand up, indicating for her to stay, then stepped behind her, pulled the garment off her shoulders, and untied it at her waist. Christmas comes every day here, he thought, musing at his double entendre.
The garment dropped silently to the floor and he spun her around to inspect—
She was nothing like he expected. She was muscular. Too muscular, and her legs and lower torso were dotted with scars—knife wounds, some bullet wounds, others… arrows maybe? Unacceptable. He didn’t want reminders of combat here. He shook his head, and paced to the table, making for his radio. Back to the stables with her.
He felt a strong hand on his arm, and he looked back in shock. Her eyes met his. Feisty. Her confidence had turned to fire. Did she know he had rejected her? Rukin turned, reassessing her now.
As a smile spread across his face, her other arm flew to him, and her fist crashed into his gut, just below his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him instantly. He fell to his knees and gasped. As he sucked desperately, she kicked his left side, just below his ribcage, rolling him over and sending waves of whiskey up his throat and out his nose and mouth. He gagged and gasped as the liquor burned with each desperate cough. He was drowning in fire. His abs burned and ached from the impacts and his violent heaving.
She stepped around him carefully, deliberately, never taking her eyes off him. A small smile played at the ends of her mouth and her eyes narrowed.
She’s enjoying this. She’s going to watch me die, Rukin thought. He turned over and crawled to the door. If he could get his breath back, he could cry out. Maybe if he reached the door—
Her foot came down hard on his back, slamming him into the hard floor, breaking his nose. He almost lost consciousness.
He felt her hands wrap around his wrists and pull his arms back, her foot still planted in the center of his back. She was ripping him in half. He wanted to scream, but no sound came from his lungs, only an animalistic grunt. His right shoulder snapped and the wave of pain hit him like a slap, almost taking him under. He would have passed out, but the liquor had numbed some of the pain, keeping him conscious. His left shoulder snapped, and the woman pulled both arms back unnaturally.
Rukin heard her pace away from him, and he hoped she was going for the gun. Death would be welcome. But he heard the rip of tape instead. She wrapped his wrists together behind him. Every touch sent a new shock of pain.
He almost had his breath back now and he pushed, trying to call, but she brought the tape to his mouth and covered it, winding the roll around his head several times. She tied his legs from his ankles to his knees, then lifted him and practically threw him against the wall, face out. Pain then hyperventilation came as he tried to breathe through his nose and endure the waves of pain that came from his shoulders pressing against the wall.
She stared at him for a moment, then casually strode to the table. Her naked, muscled body flexed only slightly with each leisurely step. She looked at the liquor bottle, then took the handgun from Rukin’s belt.
Do it, he thought.
She ejected the magazine, then pulled the slide back. No round ejected. Rukin never chambered his first round. She inserted the magazine again and chambered a round.
Do it.
She set the gun on the table, crossed her legs, and gazed at him.
Rukin screamed through the tape at his mouth, but she ignored him.
She grabbed the radio, twisted the dial on top to change the channel, then said quietly, “Fire purges everything.”
A few minutes passed. In the distance, Rukin heard a loud explosion, then another, and another, like rolling thunder. They were attacking the walls.
CHAPTER 50
Plague Barge Destiny
Mediterranean Sea
Kate was tired of waiting for Shaw. She rolled off the bunk. She needed to get to the surface to make a call. She glanced at Martin. She couldn’t leave him here. She pulled him up and helped him to the door. She opened it and looked out. The corridor was clear.
They made their way to the tiny doors for the elevator. Kate hit the up button, and the elevator dinged and opened a few seconds later, revealing a cramped compartment. What floor to hit? Kate pressed the button for level one and waited.
The doors parted. Two men in white coats, doctors she assumed, stood before her, holding clipboards, discussing something.
One was Chinese, the other was European. The Chinese doctor stepped forward, cocked his head, and said, “Dr. Grey?”
Kate froze. She was halfway off the elevator. She considered going back, but the Chinese doctor closed the distance quickly. The European was close behind him. “You know this man?” he asked.
Martin was still listless, but he looked up. “Chang…” he voice was soft, barely audible.
Kate’s heart raced.
“I…” Chang began. He turned to his colleague. “I used to work with this man. He’s… a fellow Immari researcher.” He looked at Kate for a moment. “Bring him.”
Kate glanced down the corridor to her left and right. Guards loitered at each end.
She was trapped. Chang was walking down the narrow hallway directly ahead, and the European scientist was staring at her, his head cocked. Kate fell in behind Chang.
The hallway opened onto a large kitchen that had been converted to a research facility. The steel tables had been transformed into makeshift operating tables. It vaguely reminded Kate of the kitchen in the Orchid District, where Martin had told her the truth about the plague in the attached office.
“Help me get him onto the table,” Chang said.
The European stepped closer to examine Martin.
Martin slowly turned his head to look at Kate. There was no expression, and he said nothing.
Chang stepped between the other scientist and Kate and Martin. “If you could… give us a moment. I need to talk with them.”
When he had left, Chang turned to Kate. “You’re Kate Warner, aren’t you?”
Kate hesitated. The fact that he suspected it and hadn’t turned her in… she thought she could trust him. “Yes.” She nodded to Martin. “Can you help him?”
“I doubt it.” Chang opened a steel cabinet and took out a syringe. “But I can try.”
“What is that?”
“Something we’ve been working on. The Immari version of Orchid. It’s still experimental, and it doesn’t work for everyone.” He focused on Kate. “It could kill him. Or it could give him a few more days. Do you want me to administer it?”
Kate glanced down at Martin, at his dying body. She nodded.
Chang stepped forward and injected him. He glanced at the door.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.
“Nothing…” Chang murmured as he focused on Mart
in.
CHAPTER 51
Immari Operations Base at Ceuta
Northern Morocco
David stared at the eleven men who stood around the armory room. “Gentlemen, I’m not here to give you a speech. Our cause is lost. But it is just. This base is the gate to Hell and the world the Immari seek to build. If we destroy it, we can give the people of Europe a fighting chance. However… we are outnumbered, outgunned, and sitting in the heart of enemy territory. We have three things: the element of surprise, the will to fight, and a righteous cause. If we see morning, we will win. Tonight will determine our fate and that of millions of others. Fight hard and don’t fear death. There are far worse things in life—one being living a life you aren’t proud of.”
He nodded to Kamau, who stepped forward and began issuing orders to each man.
Shortly after the tall African finished, the radio in the corner crackled and pierced the silence. “Fire purges everything.”
“It’s time,” David said.
David and Kamau ascended the catwalk with three of their men. The operations center for the base sat at the top of the tower, at the center of the citadel, far away from the walls, safe from any attackers but high enough to see exactly what was going on with a naked eye—or better yet, binoculars. It was smart. The base commanders didn’t want to rely on cameras, surveillance, and field reports—they could all fail or be compromised. They wanted to see the fight with their own eyes.
David paused at the landing and clicked the flashlight into the night, sending the signal to the regiments of Berber soldiers waiting beyond the far wall.
When the last flash faded from the light, he resumed his climb to the top, his men following closely behind him. The room at the top of the tower was as he remembered it: a mix of an air traffic control center and the bridge of a battleship. Four operations officers sat at control stations, staring at banks of flat-screen monitors, occasionally typing. A pot of coffee brewed in the corner.
The closest tech saw David, spun around, stood, and saluted nervously as if not quite sure how to handle the unexpected visit. One by one the other three followed suit.
“As you were, gentlemen,” David said. “It’s been a long day, and as you may have heard, Major Rukin won a great victory in the hills. He’s downstairs celebrating, getting what he deserves.” David smiled, a truly genuine smile. “Take a break. Join him in the mess. There’s food, drink… and the spoils of war. New arrivals.” David motioned to his men. “We’ll take this shift.”
The techs mumbled their thanks and hopped up from their stations. A colonel’s orders were the best opening they would get to skip out on a shift.
When the men had left, David’s soldiers took their places at the consoles. David looked at the screens suspiciously. “You sure you all know how to work these things?”
“Yes, sir. I worked the day shift for a few months when I was first transferred.”
Kamau circled the room, handing each of the soldiers a cup of coffee. He joined David and the two of them stood for a moment, staring into the night. David thought it spoke well of him that he said nothing. After a few minutes, Kamau simply held up his watch: twenty-two hundred hours. David activated his radio. “All stations report.” One by one, the men checked in, their voices crackling in David’s earpiece. He waited for the last piece of the puzzle to click. The men had taken names from the Trojan War; they had all decided that David’s call sign would be Achilles.
“Achilles, Ajax. The Trojans are in the banquet hall. We’ve begun the feast.”
Begun the feast was code for locked them in and deployed the gas.
“Copy, Ajax,” David said. He walked out of the command tower and down to the first landing. Again he held the flashlight up and clicked it. By the time he returned to the command center, the explosions along the perimeter had begun. Fire and plumes of smoke rose above the outer wall. The three men at the command station worked the radios and computers.
The screens revealed the scene. Waves of horseback riders besieged the wall. The automatic guns at the towers mowed rows of the riders down, but still they came, charging relentlessly.
A tech turned to David. “Tower Two wants authorization to use the rail gun.”
Kamau glanced over at David.
The rail guns would decimate the Berber forces. Authorizing their use, however, would be very convincing to the troops, would prove the base was at risk.
David pointed to the sniper rifle at Kamau’s side. “Take them after the first shot.”
David walked to the command chair and activated the microphone. “Tower Two, this is Colonel Wells. The major has turned over command to me. Go weapons hot on rail gun delta and fire at will.” He deactivated the radio and waited. The rail gun sent a streak of fire into the night and a geyser of earth and blood exploded into the air, leaving a black cloud where horses and soldiers had been a second before. Everything seemed silent for a moment after that. David hoped the Berbers would keep coming. He needed them to.
On the landing below, David heard three shots ring out in rapid succession. The rail gun fell silent.
David clicked the microphone on the control panel again. “Battalions one, two, and three, move into zone one. I repeat, Battalions one, two, and three, this is Ceuta Command, outer wall is at risk, move into zone one and take up position.”
Almost immediately, David saw motion in the citadel and the ring beyond. Troops pounded the ground, the inner gate opened, and trucks rushed through it. The Berbers pressed the attack and the battle grew more intense.
“Command, Tower One. Tower Two is down, repeat Tower Two is down.”
“Copy, Tower One,” one of David’s men said. “We’re aware. Reinforcements are inbound.”
Almost a minute after David’s order, the area below the wall was filled with Immari soldiers, almost four thousand of them. This was the moment David had planned, their one opportunity to take the base. His hands shook slightly, and in that moment, he wondered if he could do it. What if he couldn’t? There was no turning back now.
The technicians looked back at him, each knowing what came next. Finally, one man quietly said, “Awaiting your order, sir.”
Mass murder. The death of four thousand men—soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Monsters, David told himself. But they couldn’t all be monsters. Just people on the other side of this fight, people who had been unlucky enough, whose circumstance had made them his enemy.
All David had to do was say the words. The tech would push the buttons, the mines below the wall would arm, the improvised explosives would detonate, and hell would break loose. Thousands of soldiers—people—would die.
“There will be no order,” David said.
Shock spread across the men’s faces, except for Kamau. His face was a mask that betrayed no emotion.
David stepped forward, to the primary technician’s station. “Show me the buttons to press.” This was his burden to bear; he alone should and would shoulder the responsibility. The man showed him the sequence of commands, and David memorized them. He entered the codes and the ring below the wall exploded into a sea of carnage. Blood seemed to pool like a moat. The radio erupted in calls and one of the techs instantly turned it down.
David activated his radio. “Ajax, Achilles. Outer wall is breached. Crack open the horse.”
“Copy, Achilles,” the soldier answered.
The screens flashed to the confinement wings. Three of David’s soldiers raced through, opening the cells, freeing the captured Berbers, arming them. The fight for the citadel and for Ceuta began now.
“Open the gate,” David said. “And make the call.”
He slumped into the “captain’s chair” and waited. The tech called over his shoulder. “You’re on.”
“Immari Fleet Alpha, this is Ceuta Command. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Our outer wall has been breached. Request immediate air support.”
“Copy, Ceuta Command. Stand by.”
David w
aited for the words. Sloane was in that fleet, and David knew him—he would command the air assault himself. For all his faults, Sloane led from the front.
“Ceuta Command, Fleet Alpha. Be advised: we’re scrambling air support now. ETA fifteen minutes.”
“Copy, Fleet Alpha. ETA fifteen minutes. Ceuta Command out.”
When he was sure the channel was closed, he issued his final orders to the techs. “I want you to wait until they’re deep in our firing range. Don’t take any chances.”
“Even if they fire—”
“Even if they fire everything they’ve got. Wait. And don’t position the rail guns until you’re ready to fire. Someone on the ground could warn them. You take those helicopters down, and we could change the course of history.” He walked over to join Kamau at the door. “It’s been an honor, gentlemen. Now we’re going to buy you some time.”
David reached for the door, but a tech called out. “Sir, we’ve got incoming—”
“Air?”
“A plague barge. It’s a little over a mile out. Inbound from Marbella. They just sent us their docking request and manifest.”
David spun to face Kamau. “How could we not know about this?”
He shook his head. “The ships come and go as they please, there’s no schedule. They can wait in the harbor to dock for days, so it doesn’t matter.” He crossed the room and punched the keyboard. The manifest scrolled across the large screen.
David looked around the room. “What’s onboard? Weapons capabilities? And for that matter, what the hell is a plague barge?”
Kamau spoke as he worked the computer. “This one’s an old cruise ship. Weapons are minimal: two fifty-four-caliber guns on each end. But… they’re carrying all the excess troops from the invasion of several cities in southern Spain.” He stood. “Almost ten thousand troops—plus new recruits, those that took the Immari pledge. Who knows how many. There could be twenty thousand enemy combatants on board. There would have been devolving on board, but this close to Ceuta… they’ve already been offloaded.”