Mitchell had finished releasing Raven from the rack, and the pair of them joined Taylor in helping Jago. The behemoth seemed exhausted and barely conscious, yet vaguely pleased.
At a flash of movement above him, Reid blew the head off another guard on the highest balcony, quickly taking aim at another.
“The passage, run!” he heard the whisper again, and this time caught a flicker of movement off to his side.
Reid grabbed Taz by the shoulder, gesturing towards the wide passageway.
“Let’s go!” he yelled.
Taz nodded and ran towards the others, providing covering fire as they grabbed their helmets and weapons. Reid ran out into the open, firing haphazardly towards the balconies as he went, skidding to a stop when he reached Marcus’ side and throwing his rifle over one shoulder, bending down to lift Marcus up onto the other.
“You will die for thisss!” Kesha Kun screamed at them. “You cannot hide from Kesssha Kun!”
Reid ignored him completely. He saw the others already making their way towards the main passageway leading out of the throne room. Pumping his legs, he powered after them, he somehow managing to jink sideways around an incoming shot as he ran after them, despite the heavy load.
“None can hide from Kesssha Kun!” he heard the shouting once more behind him as he fled.
Chapter 55
They darted down the corridors of the palace as fast as their legs could carry them, taking little heed of the numerous side passages.
Reid held onto Marcus, who lay slung over his shoulder, barely conscious, but completely paralyzed. He couldn’t even utter a sound, not that he wanted to. His mind was as exhausted as his body. Serena was gone. The only thought he could muster was a wish that Kesha Kun would share his pain.
Jago stumbled along behind them, aching all over and entirely spent from the torture he’d endured. Taylor tried his best to support him and spur him forwards, fearing that the giant was ready to collapse at any moment, but Jago refused to surrender to exhaustion. Having tasted freedom, his conviction was renewed. Though he was in no condition to fight, he somehow managed to keep with the pace.
As they approached a T-junction, a tall humanoid shape flickered briefly right in front of them. Taz stopped dead in his tracks, raising his weapon.
“What the hell was that?” He shouted, glancing quickly at the others for reassurance.
Captain Mitchell stepped forward and placed his hand on Taz’s barrel, forcing his weapon down. “I have no idea, but whoever he is, I think he’s with us,” he said.
After a brief pause, Taz simply shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough,” he agreed, realizing that this was no time to argue.
“This way,” a dry voice called as the figure flickered into view once more, pointing down the left-hand passage.
They ran ahead, encountering the occasional black-armored Sheshen, racing down the passageway to answer Kesha Kun’s frantic summons. Taz and Raven made quick work of them. Normally the dark-haired beauty would leave the fireworks to the rest of the squad, but after having been captured not once, but twice, by Kesha Kun’s forces, she felt she had a score that needed settling. She gripped her borrowed carbine firmly, screaming as she let loose a hail of projectiles at any hapless guard who was unfortunate enough to cross their path. Every so often they would come across a fallen guard, covered in vicious lacerations inflicted at the hands of their mysterious escort.
It didn’t take long before they spotted the opening of the clear-sided tube leading to the first security station up ahead. Realizing that they were about to leave the palace behind, they pushed that much harder.
Racing along the hard metal grating of the cylindrical corridor, they noticed a pair of formidable blast doors blocking their way at the far end. The air in front of the barrier flickered, suggesting a humanoid shape standing in front of the doors with both hands pressing against the metal. The squad came panting to a halt behind it, waiting for whatever it was the barely-visible figure was attempting to do.
As he studied their makeup, Hanan Aru’s helmet display began to overlay the doors’ mechanical and electrical designs onto its display, revealing its vulnerabilities. He knelt down, reached out with his fingers, touching a small panel at the base of the right hand side of the doorframe. A sudden burst of electricity shot from a device embedded in his fingertip and into the panel. Having disabled its motor, Hanan Aru rose to his feet, gripping the doors with both hands and pulling them open.
As the squad breached the security station the flickering figure accompanying them transformed into a chaotic whirlwind of mayhem and death as it darted about the room, cutting down foe after foe. Taz lent a hand and mowed down a guard who raised a rifle to shoot the ghostly shape in the back.
“Whoever he is, I sure am glad he’s on our side!” Taz shouted over the gunfire, staring into the fray.
In a matter of seconds, the security station was still. Four guards lay hacked into pieces on the floor, and two more had fallen to the squad’s firearms. The squad watched in wary awe as the tall shape of their benefactor strode to the center of the circular pit. Once there, Hanan Aru turned off his chameleon suite, revealing the hulking form of his silvery Iankari power armor, whose smooth, menacing outlines were far more advanced than anything the Terrans had ever seen.
“Stay back,” he warned, reaching out with his hands.
There was a sudden flicker of light as he once more began to absorb energy from the structure’s power reserves. Arcs of electricity shot out from the consoles, the torn wiring hanging over the door to the loading dock, and the panels set in the walls, earthing themselves in the silvery suit. Then the room went dark. The only source of light was the dim blue emergency lighting, which exuded a loud buzzing noise. The silvery figure turned to face the squad, its shimmering helmet sporting a visor of opaque, darkened glass, a small antannae rising from behind its head.
Captain Mitchell ventured hesitantly forward.
“What… who are you?” he stuttered, hoping that his assumption that the figure was an ally was in fact correct.
“I am Hanan Aru. Rodan Kesh sent me to watch over you.”
Mitchell suddenly remembered the Gaian who’d helped them on Semeh’yone station. It seemed like such a long time ago.
“I thought he was forbidden to help us?” Taz asked.
“He is,” Hanan Aru confirmed. “My presence here needs to remain undisclosed.”
“Well if you see him, tell him thanks. I don’t know what we would have done without you,” Reid said, shifting Marcus’ weight on his shoulder.
“We owe you one,” Captain Mitchell agreed. “Now… any idea on how we can get out of here? Lishan’s contact is surely long gone by now.”
“I may know a way, although it will not be pleasant,” Hanan Aru revealed. “Follow me.”
He led them through the small doorway on the opposite side of the security station. It had been locked when they’d first passed through, but when one of the guards had attempted to flee Hanan Aru’s fury he’d opened the door to make his escape, only to be cut down seconds later. They followed their rescuer along a narrow corridor, which soon veered sharply to the left. Mitchell was concerned that the loud clanking sound as Hanan Aru strode down the passage would draw the attention of yet more guards, but none came.
The passage eventually opened into a large, irregularly-shaped chamber with rough cement walls and a high ceiling. A clutter of rusted pipes, some of them were over two meters in diameter, connected various canisters and storage silos before disappearing into the left-hand wall. A plain metal stairway led down two flights to the floor below. The sound of Hanan Aru hastily navigating the stairs echoed through the chamber, sounding as if someone were forcefully banging on the rusted pipes with a metal wrench.
He stopped in front of the first pipe. He reached and laid his hand on top of it, as if trying to sense what lay inside. A few seconds later, he proceeded to the next pipe, which lay level with the raised metal wal
kway they were standing on, and repeated the gesture.
“This will serve,” he announced, grasping the handle of his blade and drawing it from a short sheathe slung over his broad back.
Disappointingly, the blade itself was exceedingly short, no more than a stubby knife embedded in a much more extensive hilt. As the armored figured gripped the handle firmly, the blade sprung forward, increasing in size several times over as segment after segment came rushing out impossibly from the hilt, unfolding smoothly into a sleek length of metal easily a meter long.
Taz gasped, staring hypnotically at the magnificent sword. “Serve as what?” he asked.
“The way out,” Hanan Aru proclaimed as he swung his blade a half circle.
It sang as it cleaved through the air, a testament to its keen edge. With his free hand, he pressed down on the pommel and the blade began to glow, faintly at first, then gaining in intensity until it was glowing white with heat. Ripples formed in the air around the sword as Hanan Aru pressed it slowly down into the rusty surface of the large pipe.
To their amazement, the pipe gave way as the blade sank in. He pulled his blade slowly around to produce a hole the size of a clenched fist before finally withdrawing it.
“I don’t think I’m gonna fit,” Taz quipped.
Hanan Aru’s head snapped around, and the armored figured walked up to him, stopping uncomfortably close, sword still in hand.
“I… I…” Taz stammered, hoping he hadn’t offended their benefactor.
Before the scout could react, Hanan Aru snatched one of the grenades from Taz’s belt, hefted it, and returned to the pipe. He crammed it into the hole he’d made and pulled the pin.
“Move,” he announced calmly as he turned and paced away, sending the clones diving for shelter behind protruding pipes and silos.
The ensuing explosion sent a cloud of debris flying into the air, and was followed by the foulest stench they had ever experienced. As he crawled out of cover, Taz gagged, trying to stop himself from vomiting.
“What the hell is that smell?” he gasped.
“Excrement,” Hanan Aru replied as he approached the gaping hole in the pipe. “Get in.”
* * * * *
They waded through the vilest filth they could ever have imagined. For the most part, it reached all the way up to their hips. Even though they tried to breathe through their mouths, the stench filled their senses. Clumps of feces floated on the surface of the tepid liquid, and small lizard-like creatures swam along the surface. They were at least thankful to have the use of the infrared vision and not have to view the scene in its natural colors.
Reid struggled as he tried to keep Marcus’ head above the water, but of all of them, Jago suffered the most. His enormous form had barely fit through the opening, and he was starting to feel anxious and claustrophobic.
“How far is it?” Captain Mitchell called out.
“In your measurements?” Hanan Aru responded from the front, consulting his suit’s built-in A.I., “eight point two kilometers.”
Taz vomited, unable to restrain himself at the thought of spending the next few hours in the muck. Although the tunnel seemed to go on forever, the captain urged them to push on. There was no turning back. They were fortunate to be breathing at all.
* * * * *
The suspended streets of Sheijan offered little comfort. Everywhere they went vagrants and vagabonds stepped aside to allow them passage. No doubt the smell was a contributing factor. Fortunately it had started to rain just minutes after they had reached the surface, and the filth was slowly washing off. Marcus had regained control of his limbs and now stumbled along behind his squadmates, a hollow shell of a man, utterly spent.
Hanan Aru had parted ways with them in order to remain hidden, although he swore to keep a watchful eye. He had advised them to retrieve the rest of their crew and find a quiet place to lay low. Luckily, their ship’s refit was due to be completed by the following day, and they could finally say farewell to this hellhole for good.
Not that that was soon enough, thought Marcus. He wished they’d taken Serena’s body with them. Leaving her in the hands of their twisted captor just seemed wrong. Still, he couldn’t fault his companions. There had hardly been enough time for them to make their own escape, and carrying her body would have put them all at greater risk.
“Reid?” he prompted as they made their way along the gloomy streets, rain pouring down their faces.
“Yes Marcus?” Reid asked as he set a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
“Do you think she’s out there… somewhere?”
“I know she is,” Reid answered. “And I’m sure she knows how much you cared for her.”
“You knew?”
“We all knew,” Reid said, giving him an awkward smile.
“Pray for me, Reid,” Marcus whispered. “Or at least, for what’s left of my humanity.”
Chapter 56
They’d barely rushed the rest of the crew out into the pouring rain when Kesha Kun’s forces arrived at the hotel. Taz spotted them from an alleyway on the far side of the dismal square, a procession of two dozen of the Sheshen thugs led by a pair of Nerokan enforcers marching straight up to the hotel.
“That you’re still alive is a miracle!” Dasaan gasped as they scrambled across a deserted pedestrian way, making sure to stick to the shadows between the feeble pools of light cast by the occasional illuminated sign or window. “How do you plan to get us off this world? Kesha Kun is sure to have his forces waiting at the shipyard.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Captain Mitchell replied, “Right now I’m more worried about finding a place to stay for the night.”
“I know a place,” the Ganyatti answered slowly, looking unsure. “It’s far from warm, but it will keep us dry and out of sight.”
“That’ll do,” the captain nodded. “Lead the way.”
While the armed clones flanked them, the support staff lugged their gear through the torrential downpour, soaked to the bone and exhausted from having been rushed out of the hotel in such a panic. Once the initial shock of their flight had passed, Marcus could see that the crew had not taken Serena’s passing well. He could hear soft weeping coming from the throng as they pushed through the darkened streets on their way to Dasaan’s refuge. Apart from himself, Linda Haake seemed to have taken it the worst, the older woman’s eyes swelling with tears, her chest shaking with gentle sobs. Marcus hadn’t realized that the two had been close friends. He remembered seeing them in the galley together on occasion, but hadn’t thought it anything more than a working relationship. He reflected on how strange it was that someone he held so dear could have affected so many lives so deeply without him even realizing it.
Dasaan led them down a series of spiraling walkways, diving underneath the main streets above, eventually stopping before an underpass beneath a less conspicuous part of the city. The outlines of a pair of humanoid derelicts, their races and genders invisible, lay sleeping inside a small crumbling cargo crate just inside the underpass, sheltering from the rain. Inside the underpass, the rough ground was strewn with rubbish and small creatures crept along the walls, searching for morsels of food to drag back to their lairs.
“We should be safe here for now,” Dasaan told them.
Marcus was sure that the loudmouthed Taz would be the first to complain, but to his amazement there were no objections. Taz even took the initiative and made himself useful, organizing the support staff to create a makeshift shelter out of pieces of metal sheeting they found further inside the underpass.
One of the derelicts woke from his stupor and started making noise, crying out in a language Marcus didn’t recognize. Dasaan knelt by the leathery flap which served as the doorway to the decrepit cargo crate, slipping the poor creature a bit of currency, laying the matter to rest.
Marcus found himself standing in front of Jago, who was sitting quietly on an overturned pillar of cement. He stared at the huge man. He was the reaso
n. If he hadn’t…
“She’s dead because of you,” Marcus blurted out, his voice low and bitter. “The next time you charge off without thinking, I’ll shove a grenade so far up your ass that no amount of regeneration will save you!”
Jago didn’t reply. He merely lowered his head in shame as Marcus walked away.
“Fourteen hours,” Captain Mitchell announced. “Then we’re out of here.”
“What about the Rev?” Taylor asked, sitting on a small crate and enjoying a cigarette, his back turned to the torrential rain.
“What about him?”
“His leg… He’s supposed to see Oolan, the doctor, before we leave.”
“Even I’d forgotten about that,” Reid confessed. “It’s not worth the risk, Captain. It can wait until we get back to Semeh’yone station.”
“A checkup after invasive surgery performed by an alien doctor, using alien meds and cybernetics, not to mention having trudged through eight clicks of sewage, thereby exposing your wound to God knows what? Nah… you’re right, it’s not important. It can wait,” Taylor sneered, taking a big puff and attempting to blow a smoke ring.
“Point taken Doc,” Mitchell said. “But I’m not sending you alone Rev.”
“I’ll go with him,” Marcus mumbled from where he was leaning up against the wall, his chest still heaving with anger.
“No Grey, you need to rest,” the captain ordered, worried about his mental and physical condition.
“I’m fine, Sir. I’d rather do something than sit here and wait.”
“I’ll go as well,” Taylor added, rising from his crate. “But we’d best wait until the crack of dawn.”
Falling asleep proved almost impossible, and they ended up huddling together for warmth. The rain didn’t let up the entire night, and Marcus found himself replaying past events in his mind. The more he dwelled on it, the more he became convinced that Serena’s death was his fault. Had he just convinced her to stay behind, she’d still be alive.
Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin) Page 38