by J. L. Lyon
“What about the Fourteenth Army?” Marcus asked. “They’ll be cut to shreds.”
301 gritted his teeth, knowing without a doubt that he was right. But what could they do? It was too late for them. “Just get those elevators turned off, Marcus.” He switched over to the Great Army’s frequency. “General Brooks, are your men prepared to engage the enemy?”
“Yes, Specter Captain. The Fourteenth is ready to open fire on your command.”
“Captain, something is happening,” Derek said, nodding toward the field where the Phantom Army had assembled.
301 focused the binoculars on the figure he believed to be Grace as she reached inside her cloak and produced the hilt of her Spectral Gladius. She held it out to her side as the blade shot out and the diamond armor ignited. In unison, the Phantom Army drew their own blades, and there was a magnified metal grating sound as all the blades activated simultaneously, and then the terrifying noise of hundreds of blades humming their song into the darkness—the sound of a Spectral army.
The leader raised the Gladius high into the air and shouted something 301 couldn’t hear, and the rebels roared a cry of war.
And then the Phantom Army charged.
12
“HOW MANY?”
“Six or seven hundred, maybe more.”
“Seven hundred?” Napoleon Alexander’s calm confidence faded as he stared open-mouthed at McCall through the viewscreen. “Surely there must be some mistake…”
“There’s no mistake, Mighty World Ruler,” McCall assured. “Sawyer managed to unite the fragmented units of Silent Thunder, and it appears his daughter has kept them together. The Chain of Command has been restored, sir.”
“Can your men hold such a force?”
“The Fourteenth Army is strong and motivated, but I don’t have to tell you how ineffective their weapons will be against seven hundred Spectral-adepts. If the Ninth Army can arrive in time to surround the rebels, there is a chance we might defeat them. They must be relocated here as soon as possible.”
“It will take time, Admiral,” Alexander said. “The Ninth is almost fifteen miles away from you, and moving thousands of men is no small task.”
“I understand that,” McCall replied. “But sir, you must understand this: I cannot guarantee you that we will be able to hold the Tower for more than twenty or thirty minutes.”
The MWR’s expression was grim, “Admiral…there is a good chance Silent Thunder does not mean to destroy the Tower, but to use it and thereby gain access to our satellite network. This would compromise our entire defense system, not just in Division One but around the world. You must not allow them to access uplink control or the Master Dish.”
“I understand, sir.”
“No, I’m not sure you do,” Alexander said darkly. “This is more important than you, the Fourteenth Army, Specter, and even the preservation of the building itself. If you cannot hold them, you must destroy the Communications Tower.”
McCall hesitated for a moment before replying, “Let us hope it does not come to that.”
“But if the top five floors of the Tower are breached…”
“I will take the appropriate measures.”
“Good,” Alexander said. “The Ninth Army is already being mobilized to reinforce you. Hold out as long as you can.”
-X-
301’s stare bored into the charging rebels, their blades gleaming with the white light of diamond armor. He pressed his finger to the phone in his ear and shouted, “General Brooks, open fire!”
Hundreds of assault rifles erupted below, and the orange light of gunfire met the white of Spectral Gladii. But to 301’s horror, the gunfire did little to slow the army’s approach.
“What are they doing?” Derek asked. “How?”
“They’re using the diamond armor on their blades as a shield,” 301 said. It was an advanced tactic that Specter had never learned, and one he had only seen performed by members of the rebellion. First Jacob Sawyer after the ambush, and then one of the rebels he had killed in the Weapons Manufacturing Facility.
The thin blades weren’t enough to shield an entire human body from the constant gunfire, and so a few of the rebels did fall in the charge—but it was precious few, and certainly not a significant depletion of their numbers. The blades on the front line continued to flash from side to side—reflexes that 301 counted as inhuman, almost supernatural.
301 drew shorter breaths and his heart pounded as the Phantom Army drew nearer. A voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, they’ve come for you, son of Charity.
The rebel force slammed into the soldiers on the front line with a dull smack, and the Fourteenth Army’s lack of training in hand-to-hand combat showed as their lines collapsed. After that, the rebels mowed over them like grass.
“Specter, be advised,” 301 said. “Silent Thunder is advancing rapidly. Expect to encounter the enemy in as little as two to three minutes.” He turned to Derek and said angrily, “I knew it! I knew the major wasn’t lying!”
“What should we do?” Derek asked. “What can we do?”
“Seven hundred blades to nine,” 301 mused. “Not very promising odds.”
Static poured into their ears again, followed by General Brooks’ frantic cry, “Specter Captain, the Tower is breached! We can’t hold them at this close range!”
301 was at a loss for words. What could he tell them to do? Hold their positions? Stand tall and die?
“Captain,” Marcus’ voice came through. “We won’t reach the battle before the rebels break through the last of the Fourteenth Army soldiers on the fourth floor. And if our positions on the stairwells are staggered, we leave room for the rebels to come up behind whatever blockade is furthest down. They will then be free to overwhelm the second blockade, and the Tower will be lost. We must hold up on the same floor, and make the rebels come to us.”
He turned to Derek with eyebrows raised, and his partner said frankly, “He’s right, Captain. But if we do that, the Fourteenth Army is finished.”
“Specter is the only card we have left to play,” 301 said. “Do it, Marcus. All Specters, hold up on the tenth level of the Tower…make the rebels come to you. General Brooks?” There was no answer. “General!”
Another voice answered him, “This is Major General Wilde, sir. Brooks is dead…he was next to the stairwells on the ground floor and was overwhelmed. We’re doing our best to surround the rebels, but we aren’t making much progress. There are just too many of them.”
“The Ninth is en route to reinforce us,” 301 said, hoping it was true. “You must hold out as long as possible!”
-X-
Grand Admiral Donalson watched the horrors developing at the Communications Tower from a safe distance. He had his orders to wait until the rebels fled before taking any action, and the lack of heroism in his character allowed him to be perfectly content in doing so. Someone had to track them in the event that they escaped, after all.
The smoky mist left behind from the enormous amounts of gunfire swirled around the cylindrical structure, and the dead littered the ground just outside the Tower—most in the dark green of World System soldiers. While he could no longer see the battle with his eyes, the sounds of it traveled to his ears from inside the Tower, and even from far away he knew the situation did not bode well for the System.
He turned to his men, who stared with equal indifference at the scene, “Lieutenant, what is the status of the Ninth Army?”
“En route,” the lieutenant replied. “ETA twenty minutes.”
“If they do this right we may be able to rid ourselves of several nuisances,” Donalson thought aloud. “Who has command?”
“General Dryfus, sir.”
“Get me a line to him,” Donalson ordered.
As the lieutenant moved to comply another of the men spoke, “Grand Admiral, the MWR has ordered us to prepare for the destruction of the Master Dish through external means.”
Donalson sighed, “Very well
. Bring out the long-range rocket launchers and stand by for the final order.” He pointed at the lieutenant, who had stopped in momentary confusion at the new order, “And get me General Dryfus!”
-X-
“Specter Captain, do we know how far the rebels have advanced?”
“The first floor is taken, sir,” 301 replied. “No word from the second. Judging from what Tower security’s surveillance has reported, cameras have been knocked out all the way up to the third, meaning that the rebels will soon meet no more resistance from the Fourteenth Army.”
“Is Specter prepared?” McCall asked.
“Yes. They’re ready to do their job.”
“Then there’s something you should know, Captain. I spoke with the MWR, and he has made it clear that the rebels are to be prevented access to uplink control and the Master Dish at all costs—even the destruction of the Tower.”
“He wants us to destroy the Tower?” 301 recoiled. “Why?”
“Those are our orders,” the admiral answered.
301 couldn’t believe his ears. Why were they even defending the Tower if it was so expendable? “How would we even go about destroying the Tower, sir? Surely it had no use for a self-destruct system.”
“No,” McCall said. “But a strategically placed Scythe Pulse bomb will do enough damage to the structure that the building should simply collapse.”
A Scythe Pulse…301 shuddered at the irony. A Solithium Scythe Pulse bomb had been the device used to destroy the first Specter Spire with all its members still inside, save one. If the events of the night continued to play out, yet another group of Specters would meet the same violent end.
“Where are you going to find one of those, sir?” 301 asked. “Not exactly standard issue.”
“You’d be surprised what you can find in this Tower,” McCall said. “I just wanted you to know the stakes. If we can hold them off long enough, it may not come to that.”
“I’ll do all in my power to ensure that decision doesn’t face us,” 301 promised. He turned back to his partner, who hadn’t been privy to the details of the conversation. “Alexander wants to destroy the Tower if it looks like the rebellion will reach uplink control.”
“With us still inside?”
301 nodded, “We should go below and help the others. Our only chance is to hold the rebels in the stairwells until the Ninth Army arrives.”
-X-
The lieutenant brought Donalson a small laptop computer, “Grand Admiral, you have a secure line to General Dryfus.”
Donalson took the laptop and pressed the button to receive the transmission. Dryfus’ callous stare met him on the screen. The background around his head moved quickly, an obvious sign that he was in a vehicle on his way to the Tower. The grand admiral spoke first, “General Dryfus, it has been some time.”
“Yes, Grand Admiral,” the general replied. “What can I do for you?”
“If my information is correct, you will be arriving at the Communications Tower in a little less than eighteen minutes.”
“That’s correct.”
“What do you plan on doing once you arrive?”
“Our orders are to assist Specter and the Fourteenth Army in the defense of the Tower,” Dryfus said with obvious impatience. “And I’m under the impression that if we are unsuccessful, Admiral McCall has been ordered to destroy the Tower rather than allow the rebels access to our satellite network. So if you’ll excuse me, I have a massive campaign to organize and not very much time to do it.”
“Not just yet, General,” the grand admiral said. “I have new orders for you.”
“Our orders were relayed from the MWR himself, so—”
“General,” Donalson said. “Just hear me out. Once you hear my plan I’m sure you’ll agree it’s the best move we can make.”
“I’ll give you one minute, Grand Admiral.”
“There are nearly seven hundred Spectral-adepts fighting inside the Communications Tower right now,” Donalson began. “Undoubtedly the whole of the rebel force. Our men are holding them at bay the best that they can, but they won’t be able to do so for long. They’ve already suffered heavy casualties, and the Ninth Army is likely to lose many men in relieving them.”
“We know this already,” Dryfus snapped. “Get to the point.”
“One way or the other, we are likely to lose the Communications Tower tonight,” Donalson went on. “Why should we sacrifice any of your men? The rebellion is holed up inside the Tower, and if it is destroyed Silent Thunder will at last be no more!”
A look of intrigue suddenly overshadowed Dryfus’ annoyance, “So what you’re suggesting…”
“Form a perimeter around the Tower to hem in any rebels who may attempt to flee at the last moment, and just wait.”
“Then the rebels will be certain to reach the upper floors and McCall will collapse the Tower,” Dryfus said.
“Yes.”
“So you would sacrifice the Communications Tower and the Fourteenth Army…”
“To destroy the rebellion?” Donalson retorted. “A few thousand is a small price to pay compared to the many more who will die if this army is allowed to escape!”
“Even if Specter is among them?”
A strange gleam shone in the grand admiral’s eye. “The loss of Specter will be regrettable. But the greater good of the World System will be served. You and I can destroy the rebellion once and for all tonight, General. That would be an accomplishment even the MWR himself could not take away from us.”
The general’s eyes narrowed, “But there is much to lose. If the MWR is displeased—”
“All he will see is the destruction of his great nemesis. Potential gains far outweigh the losses, and our success is almost certain.”
Dryfus sighed. The temptation of glory was more than he could resist. “Fine, Grand Admiral. We will adhere to your plan. But if I catch any flack from the MWR over this, I’ll make sure you go down in flames.”
Donalson smiled, “Excellent. We’ll be waiting for you.”
-X-
Derek and 301 bounded down the south stairs as quickly as their legs would take them, descending tens of floors to their comrades. Before long they could hear the echo of hundreds of feet pounding on the stairs, slowly rising like a growing peal of thunder. A few seconds later the pounding was replaced by the high-pitched clash of Gladius on Gladius, and he knew that the rebels had reached the tenth floor. But the continued clashes gave 301 hope, since they would only sound for as long as Specter held the rebels at bay.
The two partners continued their descent until they drew near enough to hear the frustrated shouts of the battle and to see the shadows darting across the walls. Then at last on the twelfth floor they came upon them: three Specters formed into an impenetrable line on the stairwell, staying the rebel advance with impressive skill. Every now and then they would be pressed upward, but they had the high ground and thus the upper hand. Derek and 301 activated their own blades, and waited.
The standstill lasted for nearly five minutes, until Specter Marcus caught a glancing blow to his shoulder and staggered backward. That was all the rebels needed. In the brief second before Marcus could recover from the shock of the surface wound, ten rebels had penetrated the line. The three of them started to panic until 301 shouted, “Hold the line! Blaine and I will deal with them!”
Calumnior and Exusia flashed toward the advancing rebels like bolts of lightning. Two were thrown down immediately, then another, and another. All fell in quick succession—save one. The rebel had managed to squeeze past them and now rapidly ascended the staircase with a fairly decent lead.
“Stay here and assist them,” 301 told his partner, already halfway up the first flight of stairs. “I’ll go after him!”
“We should not separate!” Derek insisted.
301 heard the words, but did not heed them. The feeling of being led by some mysterious force returned to him, compelling him onward in almost reckless fashion toward whateve
r destiny had in store. “Just do it, Derek!” The battle disappeared from sight.
“Admiral,” he said as he leapt back up the stairs. “We may have a situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
“A rebel broke through our blockade,” 301 said breathlessly. “I’m in pursuit now.”
“Has he reached the upper floors?”
“Not yet, sir,” 301 replied. “But he most undoubtedly will.”
“Then we must—”
“Wait, sir,” 301 interrupted. “Don’t give up on the Tower just yet. It’s only one man. If you give me a little time, I can stop him.”
“How can you be sure of that?” McCall asked. “If he eludes you, all is lost.”
“Please, Admiral—I will stop him.”
“I hope I don’t need to remind you that if the rebels infiltrate our communications network it will be worse than if we had no communications at all.”
“You don’t.”
“Then if you fail, Specter Captain,” McCall said solemnly. “You will take the fall. I nor any other will be able to protect you from those consequences.”
“Understood.”
-X-
General Dryfus’ jeep screeched to a stop next to Donalson and his men, and the general nodded to the grand admiral, “Do your orders still stand?”
“Yes,” Donalson replied. “Form a perimeter around the Tower, far enough away that your men won’t be hit by the debris from the Tower’s collapse, but close enough that the rebels will have no chance to take flight.”
“Speaking of flight,” Dryfus said. “My men just intercepted a transmission from airspace control. Apparently someone spotted a Halo-4 flying high above Alexandria. It’s not on any of our authorization lists, and when it was sighted it was headed southwest—straight for us.”
The grand admiral snorted, “The rebels couldn’t possibly have gotten hold of a Halo. It must be some fool taking a joyride and hoping not to get caught.”