by Mark Walden
‘With Raven gone we are having no way for H.I.V.E. to track us,’ Franz said, sounding worried. ‘How will they be finding us?’
‘Franz is right,’ Shelby said. ‘The harder we make it for our attackers to find us, the harder it’s going to be for whoever Nero sends after us.’
‘That’s assuming that they don’t just find the wreckage of the Shroud and write us all off as casualties anyway,’ Penny said gloomily.
‘OK, look,’ Otto said. ‘I know that this seems bad but we’ve got to try to stay positive. I don’t know about you guys but I’m not just going to light a campfire and sit around waiting for whoever sent that helicopter after us. That’s not an option. We get moving and we keep moving and we try to stay one step ahead. It’s not about breaking a twenty-four hour record any more.’ He stopped and looked at each of his friends. ‘It’s about survival.’
The commander of the Disciple strike team surveyed the scene at the Shroud landing area. The burnt-out shells of the H.I.V.E. dropships still smouldered as his one remaining helicopter gunship circled overhead. Just as they had hoped, they had caught the H.I.V.E. forces completely by surprise. On the other side of the landing area half a dozen of his men surrounded the handful of H.I.V.E. students who had been the only survivors of the attack. Some lay groaning on stretchers but even the ones who were uninjured still looked disorientated and frightened. As well they might, he thought to himself with a grim smile, given the fate that awaited them. A transport helicopter would be there to take them to their new home shortly.
‘Sir,’ one of his team said, approaching him holding a tablet display, ‘I’ve reviewed the gun camera footage from the downed helicopter’s flight recorder. We believe Raven was piloting the Shroud that was destroyed in the air, but there’s something you should see.’ His man handed him the device and the commander watched the shaky video. He saw at least half a dozen H.I.V.E. students, possibly more, running for cover as the gunship began its final attack run and then the camera swivelled to focus on a boy with white hair pointing a finger at the camera. There was a bright flash and then the screen went black.
‘Otto Malpense,’ the commander said.
‘Yes, sir, he appears to have been responsible for bringing down our aircraft.’
‘I thought the gunships were shielded against his abilities.’
‘They are, sir, but we overlooked something,’ the soldier replied. ‘The flight recorder indicates that the detonation circuits on the aircraft’s missiles were triggered. The helicopters are shielded but the missiles aren’t. As I say, it was an oversight on our part.’
‘We cannot afford mistakes like this today. Have the other gunships land and unload their missile racks,’ the commander said with a frown. ‘Make sure that Malpense won’t be able to use that trick again. In the meantime have the tracking team hunt our runaways down.’
‘Do they have sanction?’ the soldier asked.
‘Yes,’ the commander replied, ‘except for Malpense. Minerva would rather he was taken alive if possible.’
‘Understood,’ the solider replied with a nod.
The commander pulled the radio from his belt and thumbed the transmit button.
‘Frostbite One to command, over,’ the commander said.
‘This is Minerva,’ the distorted voice on the other end replied. ‘Go ahead.’
‘We’ve taken the landing site. Fifteen of Nero’s students have been captured, at least six are on the run and the rest are dead. I’ve dispatched my best men to track down the runners. They should be neutralised before nightfall.’
‘Malpense?’ Minerva asked.
‘One of the runners – he won’t get far.’
‘See that he doesn’t,’ Minerva replied. ‘And Raven?’
‘We believe she was piloting a Shroud that was destroyed,’ the commander replied.
‘You believe? You don’t have her body?’ Minerva snapped.
‘The Shroud she was piloting was destroyed. Her body would have been incinerated.’
‘Listen to me very carefully, commander,’ Minerva said angrily. ‘I don’t care if you bring me a bag full of charred bones, I want her body found. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Of course,’ the commander replied. ‘I’ll send a team to retrieve her remains immediately.’
‘I need to know what’s happening down there,’ Nero said angrily. The images from the G.L.O.V.E. spy-sat had cut out at the precise instant that they had lost communications with Raven.
‘I am currently re-tasking all available G.L.O.V.E. surveillance satellites,’ H.I.V.E.mind replied calmly. ‘Estimated time until the first available asset is on target is one hour, three minutes and fourteen seconds.’
‘Still nothing on comms,’ Colonel Francisco said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t tell if we’re being jammed or if there’s just nobody there.’
‘Let’s hope it is the former,’ Nero said with a sigh. ‘Where are our nearest tactical teams?’
‘We have assault teams in China and Poland that can be on site in a few hours but we may as well send an assault team from here. We’d get there just as fast and we’re better equipped,’ Francisco replied.
‘Do it,’ Nero said with a nod.
‘I already have,’ Francisco said. ‘We’ll be in the air in ten minutes. We’re just prepping an assault Shroud for launch.’
‘I should have sent some escorts for the transports,’ Nero said, shaking his head. The armed assault Shrouds were rarely used for such simple transport missions as they were slower and less agile than the normal Shrouds due to their heavy armour and weapon systems.
‘We weren’t expecting trouble, Max,’ Francisco said. ‘There was no reason to send an armed escort.’
‘They were waiting. This was a pre-planned ambush,’ Nero said angrily. ‘How did they know where the Hunt was going to take place? We kept the details completely confidential to avoid a situation just like this. The only people that knew the location were me, Raven and H.I.V.E.mind. So how the hell did they find out?’
‘Harrington,’ Chief Dekker said. ‘He had access to the file with the operational details of the Hunt for a short time. He must have somehow transmitted the information to them.’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ Nero said. ‘I want him interrogated. Chief – see to it personally. If he’s responsible for this I’ll make sure that he lives just long enough to regret it.’
seventeen years ago
‘Again,’ Pietor Furan barked as the three boys picked themselves up off the ground and advanced cautiously towards the girl. Natalya stood in the centre of the enclosed ring, her breathing slow and steady as her eyes flicked between her attackers. The three boys were much larger than her physically but they were also slow and predictable. All that she had to remember was to use their own size and weight against them. The first two boys lunged at her simultaneously while the third held back looking unsure. She pivoted on one leg and swung the other leg upwards, driving her heel straight into the first boy’s stomach. He doubled over and Raven spun behind him, driving an elbow into the small of his back and sending him to his knees. The second boy almost stumbled over his fallen comrade and Natalya seized the opportunity. Taking two leaping steps and, using her downed attacker’s back as a springboard, she launched herself into the air and drove her foot into the centre of the second boy’s chest. He collapsed backwards, gasping for breath, all the air knocked from his lungs. Natalya turned towards the third boy with a growl, taking a single step in his direction. The boy backed away, holding up his hands in surrender. Natalya stopped and looked in Furan’s direction.
‘Finish him,’ Furan said. ‘Or I will finish you.’
Natalya said nothing – she just stared back at Furan.
‘You three, out of the ring,’ Furan said as the two injured boys helped each other to their feet and staggered towards the rope ladder that had been dropped down the wall of the pit. Furan pulled off the camouflage jacket he had been wearing to reveal
a white vest underneath and then jumped down into the pit.
‘You will learn obedience,’ Furan snarled as he stepped towards Natalya. She dropped into a defensive stance as he advanced.
‘Not before I take your other eye,’ Natalya replied with a cold smile.
Furan raised a hand to the star-shaped scar that surrounded his blind, milky white right eye. It had been six months since Natalya’s last unsuccessful attempt at escape from the Glasshouse. She had made it past the fences and was fleeing through the woods that surrounded the facility when Furan and his men had tracked her down. She had taken his eye that day and he had shot her in the shoulder, a wound that she had only recently fully recovered from.
‘Enough talk,’ Furan said, cold fury in his voice. He moved with a speed that was at odds with his size, aiming a series of blindingly fast punches at Natalya’s torso. She moved just as quickly, her arms moving in a blur as she deflected the flurry of blows. She countered with a flat-handed jab, her fingertips aimed at his throat. Furan caught her hand just millimetres from its target and twisted. Natalya grunted in pain and Furan swung a knee into her side, winding her. Furan took advantage of the opening and delivered a vicious blow with his forearm to the side of her head. Natalya staggered away from him, seeing stars and shaking her head. Furan kicked with almost impossible speed at one of Natalya’s shins and she collapsed to one knee, gasping in pain as he put a foot on one of her shoulders and pushed her flat on her back. He loomed over her and pressed his boot down on her neck.
‘No smart words now, my little Raven?’ Furan said as he pressed down harder with his foot. Natalya clawed at his leg, fighting desperately for air.
‘Pietor!’ a voice bellowed behind him. He turned to see his sister Anastasia looking down into the ring with a furious expression. He took his boot off Natalya’s throat and she rolled over on to all fours coughing, her chest heaving. Furan looked down at her with a dismissive sneer before he turned and climbed out of the ring.
‘She may very well be the best natural fighter I have ever trained but she is too strong-willed,’ Pietor said, gesturing towards Natalya, who was now slowly climbing to her feet. ‘I still think we should dispose of her.’
‘I know you are angry because of what she did to you,’ Anastasia said, gesturing towards his ruined eye, ‘but she is not to be eliminated. I have something very special in mind for her, you know that.’
‘And when it is done?’ Furan asked, looking over at Natalya as two guards motioned for her to climb out of the other side of the pit.
‘Then you may do whatever you want with her,’ Anastasia said with a smile.
Natalya lay on her bunk curled into a ball. She did not want to sleep – her sleep was still haunted by nightmares, vivid dreams of her dead friends. It had been nearly a year since Dimitri had been executed and she had been forced to kill Tolya and she was still haunted by the memory of the look of recognition in his eyes as he died. She knew that in that instant he had seen exactly who it was who had killed him, she had seen his confusion, his fear, his disbelief. It had left its mark. Since the events of that day she had found that she had no desire any longer to try to socialise with the Glasshouse’s other trainees. There was no point in making friends with people who you may then be ordered to execute at any moment. Something had changed inside her, she knew that. When she looked at the other children now she no longer saw people but instead she saw weak points and vulnerabilities. That boy favoured his right-hand side, that girl was easily distracted, that guard had a slight limp from an old wound. She was being turned into a weapon and the tiny voice inside her that used to howl in protest at that fate was growing quieter with each passing day.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Dimitri said, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
‘Leave me alone, Dimitri,’ Natalya whispered quietly. ‘I don’t want to talk to you any more.’
‘You have to talk to someone,’ Dimitri replied. ‘It might as well be me.’
‘I’m going to kill her, Dimitri,’ Natalya said quietly, her eyes closed. ‘Madame Furan, I’m going to kill her for you.’
‘It won’t make it better, you know,’ Dimitri replied. ‘It won’t bring anyone back.’
‘I don’t care,’ Natalya replied. ‘I just want to be the last thing she ever sees.’
‘Natalya, this is not you. You are not a killer. Don’t let them turn you into one,’ Dimitri said sadly.
‘Go away, Dimitri,’ Natalya said angrily. ‘I said I don’t want to talk to you any more.’
‘Why not?’ Dimitri asked.
‘Because you died!’ Natalya sat up and screamed at the empty space at the end of her bunk. ‘And so did I!’
There were murmurs from the bunks all around her.
‘What’s going on?’ a voice from a bunk further down the dormitory asked.
‘Go back to sleep,’ a boy called Valerian said from the bunk opposite. ‘It’s just Natalya acting crazy again.’
Something finally snapped inside Natalya as all of the casual cruelty, all of the heartless brutality of the Glasshouse finally took its toll. She stood up and sprinted across the room, leaping on top of Valerian and pinning him to the bed. She clamped her hands around his throat and squeezed hard.
‘Please, Natalya, no . . .’ Valerian gasped.
‘My name is not Natalya!’ she screamed as she felt the wildly thrashing boy’s windpipe collapse beneath her thumbs. ‘My name is Raven!’
‘The boy needed an emergency tracheotomy,’ Pietor Furan said as he looked through the glass at the girl cuffed to the bed in the cell on the other side. ‘He’s lucky to be alive.’
‘The attack was unprovoked?’ Anastasia asked, studying Natalya.
‘Apparently he made some sort of vaguely insulting remark and she attacked him,’ Pietor replied. ‘The other children said she was like an animal. She was apparently yelling at the injured boy that her name was not Natalya but Raven.’
‘Excellent,’ Anastasia said, a broad smile spreading across her face. ‘She is very nearly ready.’
chapter nine
now
Raven woke with a start, her head throbbing. She was strapped into the Shroud’s ejector seat but she was lying on her side, her head resting on the rock that had knocked her out when she landed. She had known it was almost suicidal to attempt to eject from an aircraft at very low altitude, let alone one that was actually on the ground. She remembered the heat and the shock wave from the Shroud exploding beneath her and then she had been spinning violently, which had meant that the chute had not deployed properly from the back of the seat. The last thing she remembered was falling much too fast towards a thick stand of pine trees and then nothing. She hit the release on the seat harness and rolled away from it, before sitting up and looking around. There was no sign of anyone else nearby. About half a mile away, above the treetops, she could see a column of black smoke rising into the air. That had to be the wreckage of the Shroud. She slowly got to her feet and was relieved to find that other than some cuts and bruises and a throbbing head she was relatively unscathed. She also still had her tactical harness and the swords strapped to her back. Not exactly the perfect equipment for surviving in the Siberian wilderness but it would have to do. She looked at the ejector seat and a thought occurred to her. She pulled out one of her swords and used it to cut into the back panel of the seat before reaching inside and retrieving a small metal box with a battery attached to it. She detached the battery and slipped it and the box into her pocket. She looked at the sun, low in the sky to the west, it was already getting gloomy. Late autumn in this part of the world meant short days and long nights.
Raven made her way silently through the trees until she came to the edge of the forest where it met the valley floor. A hundred metres away were the smouldering remains of the Shroud. She scanned the surrounding area carefully, there was no sign of anyone. She moved quickly to the Shroud but it was immediately obvious that there was no hope of salvaging anythin
g from the wreckage – it was gutted, completely burnt-out. What was more intriguing was the fact that not all of the twisted pieces of debris that littered the valley floor appeared to have come from the Shroud. Some of it was clearly from the helicopter gunship that had attacked them which meant that someone or something had brought it down. She had also been relieved to not find any bodies. She knew that it didn’t necessarily mean that the Alphas had got away but it was at least a slightly positive sign. That feeling of cautious optimism was increased when she walked towards the treeline on the other side of the valley floor. There she found tracks, footprints that were too small to have been made by adults. Worryingly, however, there were adult footprints too. Fresher, but heading in the same direction as the smaller tracks. She had no intention of returning to the original landing site – it would be suicide at this point. Even if there had been survivors of the initial attack she knew that they were sure to be heavily guarded by the forces that had attacked them. Better instead to follow the trail and save those that she could. She was still studying the marks in the dirt when there was a tiny noise from somewhere behind her. In a single, impossibly fast motion, she drew one of the swords from her back and spun round. There was a tiny flicker at the very point of her blade.
‘Don’t move a muscle,’ Raven said, pushing the tip of her blade forward just a millimetre or two. A single drop of blood appeared out of thin air. ‘Turn it off, now.’ There was another flicker and a figure in a thermoptic camouflage suit appeared, Raven’s sword tip pressed into his neck. His hand was frozen halfway towards the pistol holstered on his belt.
‘Take the mask off,’ Raven said. The man did as he was told, revealing a face that was never going to win any beauty competitions. ‘Who do you work for?’