Sol Arbiter Box Set: Books 1-5

by Chaney, J. N.

  Gabriel’s voice came in over my dataspike. “Enough is enough.”

  I heard a BANG, and the officer slumped. Gabe had shot him in the head, and not with a smoke grenade but with live ammo. We had done everything we could to avoid this fight, but now it was a matter of kill or be killed. I pushed the dead man away from me, and he fell to the floor. The man I’d hit with the smoke grenade was still struggling to his feet, and the one I’d hit with the butt of my rifle was just starting to stir.

  Gabe grabbed my shoulder. “Get moving, Barrett!”

  We ran through the skyway, heading into the VRM building. As we reached the doors, Gabe turned and fired another flash-bang. In that narrow corridor, the sound was deafening despite my helmet. I stumbled through into the other building, and right into four Nightwatch officers.

  Like Gabe had said, enough was enough. I pulled the trigger four times without really aiming, and two men fell. The other two kept shooting, advancing straight at me despite the risk. They fired and fired, but the guns they were using weren’t powerful enough to penetrate Arbiter armor unless they hit me in a weak spot. Gabe was shooting at the men behind us, so these two were up to me. I felt the impact of their shots, and the thought that they were intentionally trying to kill me removed any lingering doubt in my mind. With the coldly irrational anger of a man at war, I aimed carefully and killed them both. The way was clear ahead of us. “Gabe, come on!”

  “Way ahead of you, buddy!” He came up from behind, and passed me on his way into the VRM building. “Come out of the dark! We need to know what we’re dealing with!”

  I did as he said and turned off the interference. On my schematic, little glowing dots suddenly appeared all over the map. Each of those dots was a human being, and in all likelihood, every last one of them was a Nightwatch officer. They were closing in on us from every direction, and it was only a matter of time before the trap slammed shut.

  At least we knew where they were now. “We’ve got to get to the street. If we stay inside, we’re as good as dead!”

  Gabriel agreed. “So, get to the street then!”

  We ran for the stairwell, all pretense at stealth abandoned. This was all about speed and our ability to blast our way through anyone who tried to stop us. My armor had held up so far against the Nightwatch’s sidearms, but they would soon overwhelm us with sheer numbers. As we ran through the offices, someone popped up and I took a shot at him. I was glad I missed, because he turned out to be a balding middle-manager type with glasses. He squealed and dove for cover when I opened fire, and I left the man to his own devices. Anyone who sticks his head up like a jack-in-the-box in the middle of a firefight has got more problems than I can solve.

  I reached the door but had to duck back as soon as I opened it as something round and black came flying by. I threw myself into the corner and yelled, “GRENADE!” A moment later, the thing went off. The blast was terrifying, but not as terrifying as what I felt next. Hot liquid ran down my arm—my own blood. A jagged fragment of metal had found a weak spot in my armor, and now I was wounded. There was no way to tell how bad it was, so I concentrated on living long enough to find out.

  According to my system, there were three officers coming up the stairwell. Gabe shot the first as he came in the room, then I turned the corner and shot the next. He fell down the staircase and into the third, who tumbled down the stairs to the landing and hit with a loud CRACK. We ran down the stairs, making for the street as fast as we could. As things stood right now, the only way to spare as many lives as possible was to run into as few people as possible. If everyone in this tower was determined to kill us, that wasn’t going to be an easy task.

  We were now on 3rd Street, between 10th and 11th Avenues. Based on the location of the dots on my schematic, there was a narrow but real gap in the surrounding forces on 5th and 10th. To reach the gap, we would have to make it up two blocks past dozens of people hunting for us.

  Officers were already closing in on us from both the left and the right. I pointed across the street at an imposing structure with faux-marble columns—the Tower 7 Museum of Culture.

  Gabriel nodded. “You go for it, I’ll cover you. And let’s give them the chance to repent their sins.”

  He switched over to amplifier as I ran across the street. His voice came booming out. “Sol Federation Arbiter speaking! Throw down your weapons and surrender immediately!”

  The approaching officers paused, but just long enough to decide whether to shoot at me or him. They must have decided the one making all the noise was the senior officer, because they all turned at once and directed a wall of fire in Gabriel’s direction. They were right of course, but it didn’t make me feel much better at the prospect of him dying so I could make it across.

  As soon as I reached the museum steps, I turned and started firing grenades. I assumed they’d fall back, but they just stood there and took the heat. I couldn’t figure it out. It was like they didn’t care if they lived or died. A grenade landed, blasted two or three of them into bits and pieces, and the others advanced right over the severed limbs and broken bodies of their dead and dying friends without so much as pausing. Another grenade landed and did the same to them, and other officers came up behind them.

  Gabe’s voice sounded horrified. “It’s like they’re sleepwalking…”

  “Performance-enhancing drugs,” I said. “It’s got to be. Just get across the street, I’m out of frag grenades!”

  He came out shooting but still took a hell of a lot of small-arms fire on his way across. I threw open the museum door and stood in front of it, and he stumbled in as I held the trigger down and directed a steady stream of fire at the pursuing officers. He stumbled and fell to his hands and knees in the museum lobby, and I slammed the door shut and hit the lock. I didn’t see any other way to secure it, so that would have to do.

  “I think I’m hit,” he said with a slight groan.

  “I’m not surprised, your suit must have taken a hundred rounds. How bad is it?”

  He paused for a moment, letting his suit assess the damage. I did the same and was pleased to discover that it was fairly minimal. The shrapnel I’d been hit by was not a large chunk, just a sharp metal splinter that had pierced my arm at the joint. Pulling it out wouldn’t be a good idea, so I’d have a new accessory for the time being.

  Gabriel slowly stood up. “I think I can move. Left shoulder wound, survivable.”

  “Then let’s finish this so we can have our post-mission cigar and brandy.”

  We needed to get from one side of the museum to the other and then out the back doors, exiting on 5th St right next to the gap. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t anyone in the building except for us—but that couldn’t possibly last for long. We ran straight down the central corridor, under a huge banner that read: New Visions: Featured Art from the Towers of Venus. It was kind of poignant. The colony had reached the point where they were confident enough in their own culture to make a museum exhibit of their local artists, rather than just relying on Earth’s example. Less than two days from now and it would all be for nothing, at least here in Tower 7.

  We passed the other exhibits as we ran, and these were more like I would have expected. Reproductions of famous paintings from Earth’s past—everything from Mona Lisa to those melting clocks. Copies of Han dynasty terracotta warriors and a Sherman tank from World War II. A hall of memories, just like the whole tower would be before long. A permanent museum to a failed attempt at colonization.

  We came to a large room filled with paintings and sculptures, and I was vaguely aware as we ran through it that this must be the “New Visions” exhibit. I had no time to even glance at anything, but I had a vague impression of strangely shaped rocks pitted with holes like chunks of swiss cheese. Don’t ask me what it meant, I’m not an art guy. But I didn’t want it to all just have been for nothing. “They’ve figured out what we’re trying to do,” said Gabe. “The gap’s closing.”

  I checked my schematic
, and he was right. They were tightening their lines up, trying to keep us from breaking through. We still had a chance, but we’d have to smash through any opposition at the point of contact and keep right on going. That would take us out of the central hub and out of the dark. In the residential areas they’d have natural light, at least while it was day outside—and the Venusian day is nearly four months long.

  When we reached the back doors, a handful of Nightwatch officers were already waiting for us. We came out shooting. I took down one as he came running up the steps, and Gabe got another where she knelt firing at us from the street. A third officer came running around the corner at us with his muzzle flashing, and both of us shot him at once.

  The gap at 5th and 10th had already closed, but they didn’t yet have enough numbers to keep us from breaking through. On my schematic, there were so many glowing dots converging on our location that they all blurred into each other. I didn’t know why, but these guys were absolutely determined to see us dead. Just ahead of us at 10th Ave there were six of them waiting, just holding back until we came into range.

  “You ready, Gabe? It’s our only chance.”

  “Let’s do it, Tycho. It’s do or die time.”

  I fired the last of my smoke grenades, and so did he. We came in behind the smoke, shooting wherever we saw a muzzle flash. Gabe was using his service weapon, but he still had the Gauss gun hanging from his uninjured right shoulder. I had my service weapon too, although my grenade supply was all but exhausted. I had two more concussion grenades and that was it, with no likelihood of finding more.

  We cleared the 10th Street intersection, leaving the bodies of the dead behind us. All those dots were still converging—far too many for us to ever fight. We could take some punishment, but not enough to defeat so many. In the end they’d swamp us and kill us either through the gaps in our armor or just by dragging us down and ripping us to pieces. We did have one thing going for us, though. They were all behind us, and the way ahead was perfectly clear. There were no more dots ahead of us until we left the hub and came out to where the people lived. Would the Nightwatch chase us so far? We had to hope they wouldn’t, and just keep moving for as long as we could.

  Gabriel and I kept up a steady jog, but I could see that his wound was paining him. I wasn’t even thinking about the metal splinter, but I could feel my hand getting wet and sticky as the blood rolled down my arm and into my glove. “We’re going to make it,” I said, just as we crossed into the residential zone.

  The administrative offices and corporate headquarters were all behind us, and the buildings in front of us were all apartment stacks. There were people in there, although whether they had all been infected by the same madness that seemed to have gripped this tower was something I had no way of knowing. The light from up ahead was just beginning to filter through, and it would soon no longer be necessary to use my night vision. So far, so good—but the dots were gaining on us, and they showed no sign of giving up the chase.

  “Make it to where?” asked Gabe.

  I had no answer. For some reason I couldn’t name, I felt like we’d be safe as soon as we reached the shadows of those buildings. If I wasn’t right, then everything we’d done so far to stay alive would be as hopeless as that Venusian art exhibit. Gabriel glanced behind him. “They’re gaining, Tycho. We might have to pick a spot and make a stand.”

  “If we do that, it’s our last stand.”

  “If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is.”

  He didn’t have to tell me. If we died right here, our names would go up on the big plaque back at headquarters. We’d get a nice little ceremony, and they’d analyze our mission to find out what lessons it contained for new cadets to learn from. It had happened before to plenty of other Arbiters, and it would happen again. And yet I still felt sure. “We just have to make it to those apartment stacks. Come on, Gabriel. We need to run!”

  I broke out of my jog, and he did the same behind me. It was a good thing too, because the officers behind us had started shooting. Their weapons were not particularly powerful, and their range was limited—two sensible precautions required by the Federation—but they were almost on top of us, and if we hadn’t started running by that point, they would certainly have had us.

  As we approached the stacks, our scanners showed movement from the people ahead of us. Whoever was in those buildings knew something was up, and they were responding somehow. It wasn’t much to pin our hopes on, but it was all I had. Maybe not everyone here had succumbed to the madness.

  In the twilit dimness, a figure suddenly appeared in a doorway. Heads poked up from roofs and balconies, and for just a moment I thought we were saved. Then I saw the tell-tale shape of the Nightwatch helmet on one of the men up ahead of us, and I realized we’d been driven like beasts of prey. Ahead and behind us, the Nightwatch finally had us trapped.

  Gabe knew it too. “This is it, Tycho. Get ready to go down shooting.”

  When Gabriel Anderson says the fight is over, then and only then is the fight over. The man was an Arbiter when I was still in grade school, and he had survived a thousand deadly situations. If he didn’t think we had a play here, that meant we didn’t have a play here. I prepared myself mentally for what was coming, determined to sell my life for an unreasonably high price if I possibly could. When your moment comes, sometimes that’s the only option.

  But then the rooftops and balconies lit up with gunfire. I braced myself for the impact, but it never came. They were shooting behind us, providing cover so we could reach the building!

  The figure we’d seen in the doorway threw the door wide open, gesturing to us with what looked like a prosthetic arm. “Get inside, we’ll protect you!”

  I didn’t see that we had much choice, although my mind was reeling from all the sudden turns. “Looks like we live another hour,” said Gabe, and with that I finally believed it. We ran straight for the door, while the two factions of the Tower 7 Nightwatch battled it out in the streets.

  4

  When we got through the door, the man who had invited us in kept right on going. It seemed like he wanted to get as far inside as possible. I checked my scanners and was relieved to see that our pursuers were pulling back. The line between the central hub and the residential zone seemed to mark the boundary between two territories, and our attackers did not yet feel strong enough to try to challenge it.

  Our benefactor pulled off his helmet and pointed down the hallway with a prosthetic hand. “Let’s get upstairs first, and then we’ll talk.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Everything about the man said ex-military, from his graying buzzcut to the tattoo of crossed sabers on the back of his neck. His frame was squat and still fairly muscular despite a hint of fat. As he turned around and led the way to the stairwell, I noticed that both of his arms were gone below the elbow, replaced with high-end prosthetics. A mortar or an Improvised Explosive Device must have taken both limbs, but the military had fixed him up as well as possible.

  When we reached the stairs, the man listened carefully at the door for a moment before turning the handle. Gabe tapped his forehead to indicate that he had checked his scanners. “No one’s there.”

  The man grunted his disapproval. “Don’t trust that gear. Don’t trust any gear at all. I trust myself.”

  He pulled the door open, and we went through into the stairwell. It was totally dark, so I switched on my helmet light. This earned another grunt from the grizzled veteran, who probably expected us to climb the stairs in the dark and like it.

  He narrowed his eyes at me, then shook his head with a sardonic grin. “Okay, okay. You’re both just kids, you want everything nice and cozy with a fuzzy blanket. Come on upstairs, my wife will fix you a bowl of soup. The name’s Franklin Emmet.”

  “I’m Arbiter Gabriel Anderson,” said Gabe. “This is Arbiter Tycho Barrett.”

  Frank’s voice was gruff. “Good to meet you even so.”

  He turned
and started to go up the stairs, and Gabriel threw me a look. The relationship between the military and the Arbiters was sometimes a little strained. We’re not under their authority and they think we should be, although that would violate colonial autonomy. That’s also why the higher-ups send so few of us. It’s impossible to interpret a two-man drop-team as a hostile occupying force, which reduces the need to involve the military.

  So, Frank had opinions about all that. This was not surprising, but he didn’t seem to take it seriously enough to become a problem. We climbed up the staircase, and Frank listened at the door up top again before he led us through. When he got to his own apartment, he used a special knock—two short raps, a pause, then two short raps. The door opened a crack, and I got a glimpse of a woman with dark brown hair and olive skin. She pulled the door open wide, and we all went through. As she stepped back from the door, I saw that she was holding a shotgun. She propped it up in the corner and locked the door behind us.

  The apartment was dim, but some light filtered in from the street outside. I saw a couch and two easy chairs, three bookshelves, and an end-table. The kitchen was little more than a walk-in closet, and I had no idea where the two of them slept. Frank kissed the woman on the forehead. “This is Gabe Anderson and Tycho Barrett. They’re SF Arbiters, but they don’t seem too bad. Guys, this is Ophelia.”