Maniacs: 01 - The Krittika Conflict

by Nick S. Thomas

  The room went quiet as they all thought about the possibility of what she could be. It was both shocking and intriguing to all of them. Erin had never seen or met anyone like her.

  “Could you teach me?” she asked. “To use a knife like you do?”

  “Why?”

  “Knife fighting is rough work, men’s work.”

  “Apparently not, Viktor,” said Erin.

  Viktor grumbled and went quiet. It didn’t sit well with him that he had been humiliated in front of them all.

  “You know all this is fine and dandy, but in a real fight, you learn to hit hard and take a few punches. You’ll live long and strong, like me.”

  Erin shook her head.

  “If I ever want to live a life of hard drinking, fist fights, and whores, maybe I’ll come and ask you for advice.”

  “Wow,” Mason muttered.

  “Hey, ain’t such a bad life,” Viktor smiled.

  She recoiled in disgust. She knew he wasn’t joking.

  “I’ll teach you to use a knife, but I don’t work for free, Erin. I heard you can shoot.”

  “Better than most I’ve ever seen,” Mason joined in.

  “Teach me to shoot like that, and I’ll teach you to use a blade.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Well isn’t this a merry fucking day,” Viktor sneered.

  They all chose to ignore the brash comment.

  “All that specialist training and you never learnt to shoot?”

  “Lot of things to a job, Captain. You can shoot, but can you fly?”

  “Yes, just not very well.”

  “Same here, but with guns.”

  “You know how to fly?” asked Viktor sceptically.

  “I do,” she quickly retorted.

  He looked sheepish and turned away to look out to the street.

  “Guess that told you, Max,” Liu said.

  “You could really fly the Lady?” he asked.

  “I can. I just wouldn’t want to. Flying isn’t my thing.”

  “Your truck’s incoming!” yelled Viktor.

  Mason got up and rushed to the door and checked with his own eyes. It was indeed Ryant’s well-worn heavy haulage truck that had delivered their components, in what now felt like an age ago.

  “Hella, Hughes, haul ass!”

  They got up to join him, but he could see Liu was still not happy with the situation.

  “If they come at us in the next couple of hours, we’re probably fucked,” he whispered.

  “Can you never see the positive in any situation?”

  “I can imagine ten million credits, Max, but I’m having a hard time working out how we’ll ever see it.”

  “You just hold down the fort. Make sure Vik doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  The truck ground to a halt, and Avery climbed out.

  “Where’s Cayne?”

  “Locked up safe, same as most of the town. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. Hell, I ain’t doing any business till this is all figured out.”

  “All right, I want you to take us to the Sheriff’s lockup where they take prisoners. I need you to fake a breakdown, a hundred metres from their position, and then go ask them for help. Once you and them get back to the truck, we’ll take it from there. Think you can do that?”

  “And if they don’t care to come and help with the truck?”

  “You tell them you’re delivering some parts for Volkov for a friend of his. You think that’ll work?”

  “If they truly believe Volkov has ordered it, they will do all that I need.”

  “Then you better work on your acting skills.”

  “It’ll take a bit over an hour to get there.”

  “Then let’s move out.”

  He nodded for the other two to join him, went to the back of the truck, and climbed in. There were a few component crates in the back, but it was mostly empty. There were no comforts whatsoever, except for the canopy which kept the sun and dust off.

  “Pretty simple plan, think it’ll work?”

  “You just work your magic when they get to us, Hell, and we’ll be in and out in no time.”

  Chapter 10

  They'd never gone west of the town before, but it didn't look any different to where the ship had come down. It was a coarse rocky terrain lacking in moisture. Despite that, the smooth suspension of the truck swallowed up most of the hard impacts along the way. It was a small team to be taking on a rescue mission, and they all knew it.

  "Here's how we're gonna do this. They get near this truck, and we take them down silently. No need to kill them if you don't have to. We need at least one uniform clean for me to wear. I'll approach the office as one of theirs. Meantime, I want Hughes to be fifty paces behind me and ready for support when things kick off. Hella, find another way in through the roof, sides, anywhere you can."

  "It's a prison. Ain't gonna be any."

  "I'll find something, Hughes."

  "We're passing them now!" yelled Avery.

  They ducked down low into the truck be. Mason hugged the tailgate and stayed just high enough to get a view of the place as they trundled past. It was quiet. Three vehicles were parked up outside. It appeared the prison could hold only a dozen prisoners at the most. It was a small complex with an accommodation block for the staff next door. Nobody was visible from outside.

  "Doesn't look too bad," he whispered.

  The truck passed the Marshals’ station without incident as they’d expected. At that point, Avery cut the power of the truck and let it roll to a halt. He jumped from the cab and walked around to the back to address them one last time.

  "You sure about this now?"

  "Yes, just one question. We start shooting, you gonna have a problem with people getting killed here?"

  "As long as it ain't us. Those marshals are in Volkov's pocket. They've never lifted a finger to help us."

  "Good to know."

  Mason went to crawl to the back and through the hatch into the cab.

  "Wait till they pass."

  Half an hour had gone by, and they were all getting concerned. They were worried Avery had turned them in, and it was becoming all too apparent that if it were the case, they were in a giant coffin.

  "Come on," whispered Mason.

  "We can't stay here any longer. We'll just have to go in."

  "No, Hughes, let's give him a chance. They're probably just dragging their heels."

  "And if they're waiting for Volkov to arrive and blow the shit out of us?"

  "Well then none of it matters, does it?"

  "All the work you do this messy?"

  "We usually we have a solid plan. Can't say it always goes the way we want it."

  Hughes shook his head.

  "Look, he's still alive," Hella said. "Must be doing something right."

  "Yes, they're coming," said Hughes.

  It wasn't long before they could hear the footsteps; and their previous concerns replaced by new ones. The plan was coming together, but timing was now everything. They could hear the discussion Avery was having with the two deputies.

  "I still can't believe you didn't keep your truck maintained, you, the parts guy."

  "I deal in ship parts. I ain't no auto mechanic."

  "And there I was thinking there was more to a job than one thing. Volkov will have your balls for this."

  "And yours too if he knew you left me here."

  Three sets of footsteps passed them, heading towards the engine bay of the vehicle. Hughes noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hella was already on the tailgate of the vehicle. She flipped herself nimbly up onto the top of the canvas roof with barely a single sound. It was a sight unnatural to him that sent a quiver down his spine. She moved more like a stalking cat than a human.

  Mason sat in the driver’s cab and could see them approaching along the vehicle’s side. Avery had kept them close to the truck just as he had wanted. They were completely unaware of the danger they were walking into. He pushe
d the door open hard. It smashed into the first deputy and launched him off his feet.

  Before he had even landed, Hella was airborne and descending on the other man. He was forced down onto his back with the weight of her body, and she drove a quick punch into his head. It knocked him unconscious against the hard ground. Mason was quickly out of the truck and stormed towards his opponent who was fumbling to get his pistol out. He slammed his boot down on the man's inner elbow, and he squirmed in pain. He pulled out his own pistol, flipped it to grip by the barrel, and cracked it down on his head. Blood burst from the man's head, but he managed to lash out and push Mason aside. The deputy was stunned and again tried to reach for his pistol. Mason rushed to his back, taking him into an arm lock and pulling him to the ground. He wrapped his leg over the man's gun hand until he passed out from the hold on his neck.

  Mason sighed in relief, "That was close."

  Hella grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet, but only just. She felt half his weight and probably was.

  "What the hell's going on here?" came a call.

  They both turned around in a panic, and Mason's heart stopped when he saw a third deputy draw out his pistol fifteen metres back from the truck. The crack of a laser weapon rang out and hit him in the chest. He was dead on his feet and slumped down to the ground. Hughes jumped from the back of the vehicle with his rifle in hand. Mason wanted to thank him, but they had more pressing concerns.

  "This is gonna get ugly quick!" he yelled, rushing to the back of the truck. He grabbed his rifle and rushed towards the building.

  "What do you want me to do?" Hella asked, as they made a break for the office front.

  "Same as before. Find a way in and get to Mitchell!"

  A uniformed militiaman appeared at the door with a rifle but was riddled with a double tap from both of them.

  "Christ, ain't this supposed to be a Marshal's department?" Hughes asked.

  "Volkov must have sent some help. At least that's taken away some of his number from the town!"

  "What a relief."

  They got to the door the man had come from and burst through inside as quickly as they could. They found the counter empty, but voices further into the complex could be heard. For a moment they thought they had gotten away with it, until a loud siren sounded off.

  "Shit, we gotta move."

  They rushed behind the desk and down the only corridor that continued past it. Two militiamen rushed towards them but hadn't got their weapons raised. Mason fired two shots into each of them, continued moving, and knocked them both down. Another rushed out from a side door, slamming Hughes into the wall opposite. Mason turned in time to see Hughes drive a knee into the man. It hit like a train, causing what must have been major internal injuries. It dropped him to the floor.

  "Those legs do more than walk then?"

  Hughes smiled. "They aren't all bad."

  They rushed past several cells; the prisoners watching in shock as the two gunmen passed them.

  "That's him!" Mason shouted.

  Mitchell was flat out on a slab of concrete resembling a bed, but with none of the niceties. He was conscious but barely lucid. He hadn't even noticed their presence.

  "Felix! Can you hear me?"

  He turned slowly and smiled. "Boss?"

  It was the only occasion when he wouldn't rib him for saying it.

  "Can you walk?"

  "Uhhh...walk? Why would I want to walk, Boss? I want to sleep."

  "He's out of it," whispered Hughes.

  "They must have pumped him full of drugs, a guarantee that he goes down for good."

  "I hear he's a junkie. Maybe he got himself into this."

  "No, not a chance. He's come through for us, and we're gonna get him out of this."

  Mason stepped back and fired at the locking blade. It sheared off. He hauled the cage door open and rushed inside.

  "Mitchell, don't you worry, we're gonna get you out of here. You're gonna be all right."

  Christ, Felix, we really are in the shit here, he thought.

  He could see Hughes was thinking the same.

  "Where's Hella?" he asked.

  Mason looked around, but there was no movement, except for the other prisoners. Glass smashed down beside them, and a body of a militiaman dropped from the roof, hitting the floor beside them.

  "Christ!" Hughes shouted.

  They looked up and Hella dropped in through the skylight she had clearly just thrown a man through. She landed down beside him as softly as she could.

  "They were waiting for us."

  "How many, Hell?"

  There's another three up there like him."

  "On your tail?" Hughes asked.

  "Dead," she replied.

  It wouldn't have been believable, had they not seen her handy work the last few days. With the skylight gone through, they could hear the shouts of troops gathering outside.

  "How many more you think are out there?"

  "More than we can handle."

  "Volkov must have really pulled out the stops."

  "He must have known I'd come. He's betting on capturing me will put an end to his troubles."

  "Smart."

  "Maybe, but he just fucked with the wrong guy."

  A megaphone cut in and echoed around the room.

  "You are surrounded. Lay down your weapons, and come out with your hands up!"

  "I didn't take this job to go to prison."

  "Nobody's going to prison, Hughes. Have a little faith. Let's look at our options. This place got an internal garage?"

  "I'm on it," Hella said, and she rushed off to scout the building.

  Mitchell was rambling and sitting down against some of the bars of his cell. Mason knelt down beside him and slapped him in the face.

  "Come on, Felix. You gotta hold it together!"

  "Boss, let me sleep."

  Mason pulled a medipack out of a pouch on his vest and took out an e-shot.

  "All the stuff in his body, you sure you want to do that? It could kill him."

  "We don't get him on his feet in the next two minutes, and he's dead anyway. Way I figure it Mitchell's body has survived every substance known to man. If anyone can manage it, it's him."

  "Not exactly something you'd want to be noted for."

  "Better than being dead."

  He held the device onto Mitchell's throat and clicked the button on the top. Mitchell's eyes immediately opened wide, and he shot to life. He stared deep into Mason's eyes and for a moment wasn't sure of his surroundings.

  "Where the hell are we?"

  "Where do you think?"

  He looked around at the bars and the other prisoners.

  "Ah, shit. I feel like hell."

  Hella ran back into the room. "They've got four ducted fan bikes in the garage."

  "They could have left those for us. No protection whatsoever, so they could gun us down no problem."

  "You underestimate us," replied Mason.

  He got up and rushed to the other cells to address the prisoners.

  "I'm gonna give you all a chance to get out of here. There are bikes waiting for you. You want out?"

  They erupted in excitement, for he knew they were all resigned to a similar fate Mitchell had been. He had no idea if they deserved to be there or not, but he didn't have the luxury of caring. He pulled out a smoke grenade from his belt and handed it to Hughes.

  "You wait with them at the door. Do not let them out until I say. Then pop both the smokes and let 'em go."

  "But, how?"

  "Just do it. Once the doors are open, you head for the roof immediately."

  "How?"

  "There's a ladder in the garage," Hella said.

  "Right, you grab that, and get it set up to that skylight."

  He lifted his comms unit. "Avery, you there?"

  It was silent for a few seconds until he responded with a whisper.

  "What the hell is going on, Mason?"

  "We need a way out..."
>
  "Ain't no way I can get through those boys."

  "Just listen. We're gonna pop some smoke grenades in a second. You wait ten seconds and then come for us. Get as close to the east wall as you can. Avoid the entrance. We're gonna blow it."

  "How you getting to the truck?"

  "Off the roof."

  "What?"

  "No choice, please just do it. Remember, ten seconds after you see the smoke, get up to the east side wall."

  "Yeah...all right," he replied hesitantly. "Good luck."

  "And to you."

  Mason pulled out a C11 charge from his webbing. Besides a little ammunition, it was all the gear he had left at his disposal. He went towards the entrance and hunkered down so as not be seen over the desk when he reached it.

  This is gonna be damn close!

  He put the charge on the desk and noticed a glimmer of movement above it. It was a shadow from troops right outside the door. He knew they were close to breaching. He pulled out his pistol.

  “Stay back!” he yelled, firing random shots in quick succession out towards the door. He flicked the arming switch on the explosive and rushed back, firing a few more shots.

  “We’re running out of time!” he shouted.

  Hella was propping up the ladder as he arrived.

  “Hughes, you ready?” he asked over the comms.

  “Ready.”

  “Do it.”

  They heard the faint whine of the mechanical doors of the garage lifting.

  “Throwing smoke.”

  A few seconds later they heard the ducted fans of the bikes spin up. Mason began to count the ten seconds in his head.

  Ten, nine.

  “Get up there,” he said to Hella.

  She didn’t hesitate. She almost ran up the ladder at a surprising speed. Hughes rushed out towards him and scrambled up after her.

  Eight, seven, six.

  He looked up. Hughes had made it to the roof. He lifted up the trigger for the device, praying it wouldn’t bring the building down on them. His thumb tapped the trigger, and an ear splitting blast soared through the structure, rocking the ground beneath them. Dust filled the air, and Mason took his chance to get up to the roof. They heard a hail of gunshots as the militia fired at the bikes, but the other prisoners were not their concern.

  A second crashing sound could be heard below, and Hughes looked over the edge to see Avery’s truck smashing through two copters which had been brought in for cover my the militia. The rotors at a corner of each were smashed apart as the hulking vehicles were brushed aside.