by M. R. Forbes
The shooter tried to adjust his aim, but Mitchell grabbed the barrel of the rifle, tugging it forward, causing the attacker to smack against the door. He altered direction, shoving back, pushing the weapon against the shooter, hitting him in the face with the stock and forcing him to release the gun.
Mitchell pulled it to him, turning it around and getting it level as the driver emerged from the car, leaning against the roof to aim his weapon. Mitchell squeezed the trigger, sending a round into the driver's eye and knocking him down for good.
The first shooter had recovered in the meantime, and Mitchell looked back down at him just in time to see a handgun being aimed at his chest. He reacted by sliding up to the side of the car, taking away his angle. The shooter shifted aim, turning the weapon toward Ella.
Another single report sounded, and the shooter fell in the car. Ella was back on her feet, gun in hand.
"What the hell was that, Colonel?" she asked.
Mitchell didn't answer, scanning the streets. Two more black cars were moving in from either direction. Three? There had only been one the last time. And they were after Ella.
Did that mean she was the one he wanted after all? It certainly seemed that way. But if she was, then what the hell had happened to him?
"Bad news," he replied, meaning it on multiple levels. "We have to get out of here."
"The police should be here in a minute," she said, noticing the cars. She was a Greylock Marine. There was no hint of fear. "We just need to hold out."
"You can't trust the police," he said. "Or the military. Not now."
Damn Watson.
"But I can trust you?"
"You'll have to trust somebody. I can explain all of this once we're safe."
She hesitated for a second and then nodded. "I don't know why, but I believe you."
"I've got a ride this way," Mitchell said, pointing down the street. The cars were bearing down on them, the doors opening to release their occupants.
"Screw that," Ella replied. "This way."
She broke for the hotel, stepping over the bloody corpse of the doorman and into the lobby. The first round of shooting had sent the patrons running for cover, and they shrunk back even more as the second round began.
Bullets thumped against the polycarbonate, digging their way through and into the open space. Ella and Mitchell crossed behind a large sofa, staying low and making their way toward the lift to their right.
Ella turned and stood, squeezing off two rounds before ducking down again. Mitchell accessed his p-rat, bringing up the threat display.
"You need to turn off your p-rat," Mitchell said.
"What? In the middle of a frigging firefight?"
"Unless you want to be turned into a zombie, then yeah, in the middle of a firefight, Captain."
He said it in his most commanding tone. He could tell by the way her eyes flicked that she was complying. She wouldn't be able to turn it off permanently, but she could at least keep herself clear of the Tetron's control.
He captured the targets with his p-rat, and then turned and fired, catching one of them in the chest. Then he scrambled forward, grabbing Ella's arm and leading her. Bullets hit the area nearby, and she reached back and fired blindly, keeping them behind cover. They made it to the lifts, finding protection in the corner of the lobby.
"Where are we going?" Mitchell asked. "They'll pin us down in here if we aren't quick."
"Enter one-three-one on the control pad."
"The hotel only has eighty-six floors."
"Just do it, Colonel."
Mitchell tapped the lift controls, entering the code. The lift in the rear corner opened a moment later, and they hurried toward it.
Mitchell turned as they reached it, his p-rat warning him of an incoming target. He fired the rifle before the configuration had reached the corner, sending bullets through the wall and into it, knocking it down. Then he threw himself into the cabin.
The doors slid closed, the lift rising for two seconds before pausing and opening the doors on the opposite side, introducing them to the loading dock.
It was clear.
For now.
10
"Damn," Ella said, surveying the area. Of the ten available bays, only two were occupied, both with heavy cargo haulers. A handful of workers were in the middle of unloading them. "I was hoping there would be a transport in here."
"At least no one is shooting at us," Mitchell said. The rear of the space was open, leading to the alley behind the hotel. "That way."
She didn't argue, following him at a run from the loading platform to the back exit. They were halfway across when the configurations from the cars found their way in, shooting at them from the lift. Mitchell shot back at them, his p-rat helping his aim despite the lack of a direct interface with the rifle. Two of the attackers fell, while the other two got back under cover.
They reached the alley, turning the corner and heading for the street. Mitchell could hear the familiar whine of a pair of drones nearby, likely searching for them, and more sirens in the distance. Law enforcement was getting involved. Were they under Tetron control?
"What exactly is going on here again, Colonel?" Ella asked as they stopped at the corner.
Mitchell peered out at the street. He could see the drones sweeping toward the area, the sirens approaching from further off.
"Let's go," he replied, leading her away from the alley only moments before the two remaining configurations appeared. They joined the street, the few pedestrians around them parting to let them through. "Have you ever heard of eternal return?"
"No."
"You're going to. Trust me when I say you'll wish you hadn't."
"Sounds like fun."
"Yeah. Loads. Down here."
They had reached the alley where he had left the bike. Mitchell grabbed the handlebars at the same time the drones turned the corner, approaching them.
"Please, do not move," one of them announced.
Ella and Mitchell looked at one another. Then they started shooting, peppering the drones with fire. They sparked and collapsed, smacking into the ground.
Mitchell started to straddle the bike and then froze. It was too open. Too exposed.
"What's wrong?" Ella asked.
"I tried escaping on the bike once already. It didn't end well."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. We need another way out." He saw a doorway on the other side of the alley. "I have an idea."
They hurried to the door. He shot the locking mechanism to clear it, and then pushed it open. The sirens had increased in volume, a unit pausing beside the smoldering drones. Mitchell didn't know if the PD had seen him. It didn't matter. He was committed.
"Where are we going?" Ella asked as he found his way to the emergency stairs.
"Up," Mitchell replied. "Quickly."
They scaled the steps, taking them two at a time. He didn't know exactly where he was, or how tall the building they had entered was. Judging by the age, he was guessing forty floors or so. It was a grueling climb, but not impossible.
They were on the twenty-third floor when an echo from the bottom alerted them to the presence of law enforcement. They didn't slow, continuing to ascend, though there was a good chance Planetary Defense would drop units on the rooftop or at the very least have drones monitoring the area.
"Try not to kill any of the officers," Mitchell said. "They aren't in control of themselves."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a long story. The short version is that ARR keys can be hacked, and the signals used to remote control the brain."
"That's why you had me reset my p-rat?"
"Yeah."
"Shit."
"Like I said, try not to kill anyone."
"How are we going to get off the roof? We're going to get ourselves trapped."
"You told me I look like a badass. Have you changed your opinion of me?"
She smiled. "No, sir."
"Then trust me."
They reached the fortieth floor. The building kept going, rising another fifteen floors. The PD at the bottom were still making their way up, but nobody was coming down.
"They're letting you have the rooftop," Ella said. "They probably have a unit positioned there, just waiting for us to come out."
"That's a mistake on their part," he said, coming to a stop. "I need you to cover me for a few minutes."
"What? Why?"
Mitchell's eyes twitched as he navigated his p-rat, activating his link to the S-17. A moment later, an overlay appeared, showing him the view from the fighter's cameras.
"I've got remote control of a military platform," he said. "It'll take me a few minutes to get it here."
"What kind of military platform?"
"You'll see."
He got the fighter moving, walking it slowly toward the barn doors. Controlling the S-17 over the distance was challenging, the signal lag causing the machine to take action seconds after he had completed it. His first attempt to open the door found him pushing it too hard, and it splintered and broke free of its frame.
"They're getting closer," Ella said, listening to the boots on the steps.
"I know," Mitchell said, clenching his jaw. He walked the S-17 through the doors and out into the field. A quick scan of the sky showed him a pair of fighters were inbound on York. He had to beat them in. "Shit."
"What?"
"They're calling in fighters."
"There's always a security detail in the air after the Federation's antics," Ella said. "Planetary Defense must have asked for UPA assistance."
"Yeah, that's right. It'll take them a little more time to get more birds in the air. I don't think PD requested them, though. Not this quickly."
"If not PD, then who?"
"Later. How far down are the officers?"
"Ten floors, if I had to guess. Can you hurry with whatever you're doing?"
"I'm flying a starship from twenty klicks away. It isn't easy."
"Maybe not for you, badass."
He looked at her through the overlay. She was smiling.
He fired the thrusters, sending the S-17 skidding along the grass before lifting it into the sky. He tucked the legs and feet and then accessed the CAP-NN, entering their coordinates so it could reach them on its own.
"Let's go," he said, on the move once more.
They scaled the remainder of the steps, pausing again at the door to the rooftop. The PD officers were still coming, though they had fallen further behind.
"On my signal," he said. "We need to be quick. Don't hesitate, and don't laugh."
"Laugh?"
Mitchell connected to the S-17 again. The fighter was over the city, a green dot on the tactical map showing him where they were, and four other dots pointing out the other units the CAP-NN was tracking. Two of the dots were larger drones that were hovering near the edge of the building, their lasers aimed directly at the doorway. The other two were the incoming fighters.
He lowered the arms and legs of the craft, using them to help slow its airspeed as it approached the rooftop. He adjusted the aim of the large cannon, passing along the command to fire. A single amoebic round fired from the gun, digging into the nearest drone and exploding. The impact knocked the debris into the second drone, and a moment later they could smell the smoke and hear the machines bumping against the building as they tumbled to the ground below.
Mitchell brought the fighter down, landing it gently on the rooftop, opening the cockpit and dipping the nose for faster egress.
A small puck bounced off the wall and landed between them.
"Close your eyes," Mitchell said, grabbing Ella's wrist.
The grenade went off, sending a plume of caustic smoke into the air around them, smoke that would temporarily blind them if it reached their eyes. Mitchell squeezed his tight, shifting his focus to the overlay and the S-17's cameras. It was pointed directly at them, and he slid his hand along the flat metal until he found the control pad, tapping it to get the door to open. He saw himself through the fighter's eyes, surrounded by a greenish haze, with Ella clinging to his wrist, her eyes shut as well. He used the mirror view to exit the stairwell and lead her across the rooftop toward the ship and away from the acrid haze.
He opened his eyes as he neared the craft, turning around to guard their escape. The Tetron could send their slaves into the smoke, but it would leave them blind as well.
"Get in," Mitchell said, letting go of Ella.
She complied, climbing into the co-pilot seat in the back of the cockpit. He vaulted onto the wing and then dropped in ahead of her, ordering the canopy closed with a thought.
"I've never seen this in any of the databases," she said.
"It's custom," he replied, triggering the footpad thrusters before adding horizontal lift. The S-17 skipped away from the building, taking to the sky.
His p-rat howled a warning, his HUD showing him an incoming missile from the trailing fighters. The CAP-NN fired automatic countermeasures, spilling a line of chaff behind them that confused the guidance systems of the missile and led it into the debris. It exploded a few hundred meters off their back, just before Mitchell brought the fighter around.
"You're going back?" Ella asked.
"I told you, I have other business."
"It must be pretty important."
"It is."
He tucked the arms and legs beneath the fuselage once more, reducing the drag on the fighter and causing it to jump forward, vectoring directly toward the oncoming targets. He added more thrust, increasing the acceleration.
The fighters became specks along the horizon.
Specks that were growing in a hurry.
Within seconds his p-rat was sounding a collision alert, certain that they were going to crash into the opposing craft.
"Colonel," Ella said, watching the maneuver unfold. "You're getting too close to move aside."
"I've got it," Mitchell replied.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"I'm sure. I've done this sort of thing before." So have you, he almost said, but didn't. The enemy fighters were staying close to one another. They both fired another volley of missiles.
"Colonel," Ella said.
"Relax, Captain," Mitchell replied, automated lasers lancing out and spearing the missiles. "I told you, she's custom."
He shifted his vector slightly, getting the first fighter in his reticle. He didn't want to shoot them down. He didn't want to kill the pilots. But he had already seen what the Tetron did with their slaves. Shooting them would be a mercy compared to what it would make them do.
He beckoned the amoebic launcher to fire, sending a disc streaking across the sky and into the wing of one of the fighters. It exploded a second later, obliterating the craft and sending shrapnel everywhere, creating a flare of blue sparks around them as it bounced off the shields.
The second fighter passed beneath them before slowing and turning back their way.
"I thought you said to try not to kill them?" Ella said.
"Sometimes it can't be helped. I wish it could."
"Frigging war," she replied.
He couldn't agree more. He put some distance between them and the trailing fighter, keeping an eye out for more of them incoming from the UPA base nearby. They would have a few minutes before reinforcements could scramble. If they scrambled. Was the Tetron close enough to the planet to start seizing control of the masses?
No more fighters appeared, but the one trailing them loosed another missile at their back. Mitchell slammed on the reverse thrusters, cutting the main throttle and rolling the S-17 over. It drifted backward in the sky as the legs dropped and the arms extended, and he floated there with the amoebic launcher cradled in the hybrid's arms. He ordered it to fire again, first shooting down the missile, and then shooting down the fighter. It exploded similarly to the first one, unable to withstand the force of the amoebic's detonation.
"We're clear," Mitchell said, angry at the Tetr
on for making him kill the pilots.
"Good," Ella said. "Maybe now you can tell me what's going on?"
"I will. I promise. After we go sharpen the Knife."
11
Of course, Mitchell had no way to know if the Knife was even on Liberty. He had no way to know if the Knife existed at all. The Battle for Liberty had happened. The gala in the Hero's honor was happening. Even if the hero was now Ella, and he didn't seem to exist at all, it stood to reason that Li'un Tio would be here, in his penthouse in Angeles, waiting to make deals that would keep artificial intelligence from overwhelming the universe.
It only took a few minutes to travel from York to Angeles in the S-17, which was a good thing. He had flown over the UPA base on the way, and he had seen the military forces in heavy motion. Not only were the fighters being organized for launch, but the mechs were being prepped as well. It was an overly aggressive response to what had happened on the ground, and it had him worried.
He cursed Watson again for his deception, and for putting them off their planned schedule. They should have been here days ahead of time. Not only would they have had time to prepare, but he would have known Ella was still alive, he would have known where to find her, and he would have been able to scoop her up before the Tetron even knew he was around. He also would have had time to talk to the Knife.
He let the thought go. What was done was done. Like Teegin always said, time only moved forward. You could reach into the next recursion to try again, but you couldn't change what had already occurred in the current one.
He approached the city, keeping his altitude low, blasting over the forests where he and the Riggers had fought hard-won battles just to reach Angeles. He adjusted his p-rat as he neared, looking through the fighter's cameras again, zooming in toward the large hotel near the center of the city. The police were on the streets in force. One was trailing a line of civilians, shuffling robotically behind him.
"It's already started," he said, as he watched another officer shoot a civilian who wasn't complying.