Chapter Six
A loud explosion sent a grappling spear and attached nano-cable arcing out across the mile wide chasm. Seconds later the titanium tip bit deep into the ancient Anakim building that had been targeted for impact. Large chunks of masonry fell into the abyss below before a smaller charge ignited, sending three bolts drilling further into the stone façade, securing the anchor in place.
The cable pulled taut and Samson gave the nod to three of his men, who edged out in single file onto the nano- rope’s narrow surface utilising wire tethers and specialised equipment attached to their feet, like some kind of human-powered monorail. Far below the faint glow of orange lava revealed the immense depth of the mighty expanse that blocked the way ahead.
Twenty feet away Riley Orton, in sombre mood and with Locke and Jefferson for company, watched the scene unfold through his Deep Reach helmet’s visor.
‘No regard,’ Locke muttered.
‘Sir?’ Riley looked to his superior.
‘They have no regard for Sanctuary,’ Locke said, ‘none. That’s priceless architecture they’re destroying, it can never be remade.’
With a final shake of the head, Dresden Locke turned and walked away.
‘He’s taking this hard,’ Riley said.
‘He cares as much about Sanctuary as he does about the SED itself,’ Jefferson said, ‘maybe more.’
Riley returned his attention to Samson’s men, who’d made it past halfway, the equipment they pulled behind dragged along using a clever configuration of wheels and pulleys.
As the possibility of crossing the divide and the reality of closing in on Sarah loomed ever closer, Riley’s concern for his one-time lover grew in combination. He knew she had to be found, the orders from on high were unequivocal, but he also knew he couldn’t see her locked away for the rest of her days. The thought of someone with such a passion for life being confined behind bars made his skin crawl. He could imagine what he’d feel if the same happened to him. There’s no way I could live like that, year after year with no hope of salvation, I’d rather be dead. And if Sarah felt the same way – and I know her well enough to know she would – after failing to escape her prison she’d resort to the only thing that was still in her control, the taking of her own life. I wouldn’t wish such a bleak outlook on my worst enemy. To exist for the sake of living was not life. And yet what can I do to help her? She has nowhere to go. And if she resists, which she will, they’ll kill her to retrieve what she has.
When he’d shared such thoughts with Jefferson, the Deep Reach archaeologist had counselled distraction. ‘Try not to think about it,’ he’d said, ‘Sarah has made her bed, there’s nothing you can do, there’s nothing anyone can do to save her now, except maybe Sarah herself.’
Back in the now Riley broached the subject again. ‘I can’t let them take her, Jeff.’
Jefferson put his hand on Riley’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort and shared understanding.
‘When the time comes,’ Riley said, ‘can I count on your help?’
‘Ri, I’ll always back you, you know that, but don’t do anything stupid. These people won’t think twice about taking out anyone in their way, be that Terra Force or Silver. For us, they’re one and the same.’
‘I have to do something.’
‘We’ll figure it out when they get her back to base. In a few years things will have calmed down, she might get parole with good behaviour. She’ll never be allowed back in the SED, but she’ll be alive, and that’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?’
Riley grimaced, Jefferson knew as well as he did that Sarah wouldn’t make it out of the military prison for a third time. And Sarah had said it herself, ‘They’ll lock me up and chuck away the key this time. Three strikes – I’m out.’
‘And besides,’ Jefferson said, continuing his ineffective pep talk, ‘they haven’t found her yet; she might make it out of Sanctuary. God knows how, but in the short time I’ve known her, if anyone can find a way, it’s her.’
Riley remained silent, deep in contemplation, while in the distance Samson’s men neared the far side of the enormous chasm.
‘It’s a goddamn witch-hunt,’ Riley said, growing angry. He looked behind at the formidable array of armoured troops on display. ‘She doesn’t stand a chance.’
A distant shout brought his focus back to the chasm. Zooming in with his visor, Riley saw the Anakim building breaking apart, and the three men who’d been sent across screamed as they were consumed by the falling mass that carried them into oblivion.
The cable spanning the colossal void stretched tight, dragged down by the massive weight of the structure that had torn loose on the opposite side.
‘It’s gonna go!’ someone shouted.
Shrieking in protest, the sound of failing metal ended as the cable snapped.
Jefferson knocked Riley sprawling to the floor as the severed cable tore past to decapitate those standing behind.
More screams filled the air and chaos reigned as people ran here and there trying to administer medical assistance to the injured few who’d survived the disaster.
Riley got to his feet and gazed at the carnage before him. Along with those that had lost their heads, some soldiers had been cut clean in two; the grisly sight was not for the faint of heart.
Through the carnage – parting a sea of Special Forces soldiers like Moses himself – strode the tall figure of Ophion Nexus, with Zhang Bai and nine other S.I.L.V.E.R. operatives in close attendance.
♦
Samson cursed his luck. Suppressing an urge to lash out, he instructed the team in charge of the mortar canon to reload another grapple and to secure another cable. Busy with restoring order, he’d failed to see the S.I.L.V.E.R. operatives that had crept up behind him like the cowards they were.
‘What do you want?’ Samson said, in no mood for games.
Zhang’s hand went to the hilt of her sword.
Ophion held out his arm to stay his companion’s intent and raised his visor. ‘It is said you were one of the last people to see Tien Bai alive.’
‘Who?’
‘My sister!’ Zhang said, between clenched teeth.
Samson remained cool. ‘I heard there was a collapse at the transmission station.’
Zhang’s eyes narrowed to slits, her blade sliding from its sheath with a sibilant hiss.
Ophion turned his head a fraction in her direction and said something in Chinese, his tone angry.
Samson laughed and in the blink of an eye the point of Zhang’s sword hovered a fraction from his throat, the hand that grasped it shaking with rage.
Samson didn’t flinch. Around them fifty commandos, witnessing the exchange, trained their weapons on the assassins, the sound of mechanical actions being readied producing a muted yet threatening cacophony of noise.
‘I’m ready to die, Nexus,’ Samson said, leaning onto the blade to draw a spot of blood, ‘are you?’
Ophion moved forward to whisper something in Zhang’s ear.
The woman slammed her sword back into its scabbard and let loose with a string of curses aimed at Samson, before stalking away in fury.
‘Do you find it convenient our communications are down?’ Ophion said, after Zhang had gone.
Samson considered the man before him. He didn’t doubt he could kill him if he had to, but he was liable to get injured in the process and he could ill afford such a hindrance if he was to secure the Committee’s precious pendant.
‘Sanctuary is a dangerous place,’ Samson said, ‘landslips happen all the time down here.’
‘Our scans showed traces of explosives at the scene.’
‘Did they?’
‘And the back-up receiver has mysteriously disappeared.’
Samson didn’t care what they thought, they couldn’t touch him and they knew it, not with the thousands of soldiers at his back.
Ophion stepped alongside him and lowered his voice. ‘Don’t go anywhere alone, Colonel.’
; ‘Threaten me again,’ Samson said as Ophion walked away, ‘and I’ll chop your fucking head off.’
Ophion paused to glance back over his shoulder. ‘Advice is not a threat, nor is the fact that you won’t make it out of Sanctuary alive.’
S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader strode away leaving Samson fighting the temptation to shoot him dead. Why shouldn’t I? he asked himself. Nexus would be the first to attack from behind. Assassins are born cowards. Just do it. Samson reached for his replacement rifle, which was attached to his armour’s back-plate.
‘Colonel,’ an engineer said, breaking Samson’s preoccupation.
Ophion drifted out of sight and the chance had gone. Why not give the order to kill them? Samson thought. Thousands against twelve. He liked those odds. He’d heard the stories, though, much like anyone else who’d served for long enough. S.I.L.V.E.R. never went down without a fight. At least one of them would be carrying enough explosive to collapse two square miles, so even in defeat they made sure their job was completed; either that or retribution was served. Samson’s anger rose. They lack honour as well as courage.
‘Colonel,’ the man said again, ‘the mortar’s ready to go.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’
‘This is the third attempt. From our visual scans and the previous failures, we believe the target zone is too unstable to withstand the impact and sustain the weight of the cable.’
Samson focused on the man before him. ‘And?’
‘We also think a third strike might bring down the whole structure. It’s too risky.’
‘Alternatives?’
‘We could go over one at a time.’
‘How long would it take?’
‘A few days, considering all the supplies we’d need.’
Samson shook his head. ‘Unacceptable. What else?’
The man swallowed. ‘There are no other options. It’s the only place in range with access to the next chamber.’
‘You’re saying give up and go back?’
‘We can’t see any—’
‘Fire the damn mortar.’
‘Yes, Colonel.’
The man saluted and hurried away while Samson stood by, waiting.
Soon after, an explosion thundered out and another spear soared out into the dark to punch home into the Anakim building over a mile away. The massive winch whirred into reverse, bringing the nano-fabricated cable taut, and the engineer gave the all-clear.
Samson frowned and summoned one of his Terra Force captains.
‘Sir?’ the man said.
‘What’s the hold up? Why aren’t our men ready to cross?’
‘Word is the anchor’s not stable; no one wants to go over.’
‘Want? This is the U.S. Army; there is no want, only do.’
‘Yes, sir, but the engineers are predicting the same result. We’ve already lost many men,’ he indicated the mounting body bags from the most recent incident, ‘morale is low – would it not be wiser to try an alternate route?’
‘So you’re the hold up?’
‘No, sir.’
Samson glared at him.
‘Yes, sir, but—’
Samson pushed the man aside and moved to the nano-cable. He gestured to an engineer. ‘Hook me up.’
The man bobbed his head and clipped a small line from the large cable onto the inbuilt harness of Samson’s armour and the exoskeleton within. Giving the connection a couple of yanks to ensure it was secure, the engineer then handed Samson two attachments for his boots. ‘These will allow you to walk on the cable; each step you take will slide your foot forward on either side. If you need to unhook, just use your visor control system.’ He stepped back to allow the colonel to mount the thick, wire rope.
Samson clipped his boot adapters onto the cable and gave the signal to load up the equipment behind.
A multi-wheeled rail rolled forward and another two lines secured him to the rolling stock. Samson braced himself against the resistance.
‘Colonel,’ the chief engineer said, moving to his side, ‘the equipment sled is designed to be pulled by two people, preferably three.’
Samson leaned lower and grasped the cable. ‘Release the brakes.’
The man’s expression was dubious, but he nodded and gave the signal. Samson lent into the harness, tensed his stomach and gave a mighty heave with his arms, while forcing his legs straight. The sled inched forward and Samson repeated the process and, like a strong man completing a truck pull, he dragged the weight behind him slowly gaining momentum. By the time he was halfway across, he was labouring. Sucking in air and expelling it in a cycle of pain, he grimaced and used his visor to redirect power into the exoskeleton to help him continue. Minutes felt like hours and he gritted his teeth. I will not fail. I will not fail! I WILL NOT FAIL!! A picture of Ophion’s face appeared in his mind, fuelling his anger and propelling him on.
More agonising moments passed before the crumbling architecture of the Anakim monument came into view.
Loose sediment fell from around the cable’s anchor point and the engineer spoke through Samson’s helmet speakers. ‘Colonel, it’s holding, but the closer you get, the greater the shear factor. The load is reduced, as there’s one man instead of three, but you need to act fast.’
A crack appeared in the building’s stone façade and every step closer increased its size. Warning symbols danced across Samson’s visor and he slowed to a stop, his chest heaving.
‘Sir,’ the engineer said, ‘you need to move … NOW!’
The cable shuddered and a web of smaller cracks spread out from the first. Samson stood up, detached his safety cord and secured a winch line from his armour to the cable.
‘What are you doing?!’ the engineer said.
Another shudder set the cable rocking; Samson clipped another winch line to the sled and redirected all the power from his armour into the exoskeleton. A loud rumble swept over him and the rock face gave way with a tremendous groan. With nowhere else to go, Samson powered forward into falling chaos.
Chapter Seven
Alongside Dresden Locke and Jefferson Church, Riley Orton watched Samson’s distant form disappear in a cloud of debris. ‘The man’s insane,’ he murmured with a shake of the head.
Locke huffed. ‘Don’t say that to his face.’
‘No chance of that happening,’ – Jefferson adjusted his visor’s settings – ‘he’s a goner.’
Riley spotted movement in the haze. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’
♦
Stones clattered off Colonel Samson’s armour as he fired a grappling hook into the Anakim structure and leapt from the sinking cable and onto falling rock. As he plunged down, his line snapped taut and he swung out into nothing before dropping down onto dusty ground. He rolled to a stop and activated his radio. ‘Release the clamps!’
On the other side of the chasm the engineer pressed a button and the freefalling equipment separated from the cable. Leaping up, Samson wrapped the screaming winch lines around a massive pillar and braced for impact.
‘Colonel,’ the engineer said, ‘the weight’s too great, you’ll be dragged over the edge!’
Samson ignored him and activated his amour’s anchor protocol. Ten high tensile cables lanced out into the ground, locking him in place. The two winches reached maximum extension, halting the sled and cable’s downward plummet, and yanking Samson backwards as the cables extended from his armour to dampen the sudden weight from below. Pain tore through his body as he was spread-eagled by the intense load, his every fibre and sinew stretched to breaking point. Like a pendulum, the equipment sled cut an arc through the air to smash through the wall of the Anakim building six storeys down. Released from half his burden, Samson detached a winch line using his visor and secured the second that held aloft the cable spanning the chasm.
With his muscles on fire from his brush with dismemberment, Samson worked his way down to the sled and unpacked the kit it had been transporting. Using the inbuilt manual, Sam
son set the system up while accounting for the increased gradient. A mile away, the chief engineer let out some of the giant nano-cable and prepared the mechanisms on their side.
‘The cable’s reattached,’ Samson said and pulled down a red lever on the platform he’d erected. Twenty pneumatic screws whirred into motion, burrowing down into the bedrock beneath. A red light atop each screw switched to green and the main cable pulled tight. ‘Landlocks deployed and secure.’
‘Stand back, Colonel,’ the engineer said, and gave the signal to his men to start the turbine. ‘Cannons firing in three – two – one … fire.’
Two thunderous blasts sent two rockets powering into the air, and behind them wires unfurled to drag a large, rectangular prism across the cable. The oblong device sped over the chasm, pulled along by the rockets. As it moved it deployed a flat platform in its wake, decreasing in size until the rockets fell away. This strange contraption continued to hurtle along the cable, reducing in size to a cube, before it slammed into the buffers on Samson’s side, then rebounded back the way it had come, its momentum undiminished. As it shot back across the divide, two sets of interwoven cables created sides to the newly formed base, and by the time it returned to its starting point, its function completed, the device had reduced to nothing.
Samson stepped onto the bridge they’d just created and gave the signal for the crossing to begin. A hundred commandos at a time made the trip across and after a thousand had passed over, a convoy of all-terrain vehicles followed, their snake-like yellow hides trundling along with the supplies that fed and watered the six thousand strong host. SED personnel came next, with the Deep Reach teams at their head, and close behind them followed Ophion and his S.I.L.V.E.R. mercenaries.
‘Time for dead weight to earn its pay,’ Samson said, as Ophion stepped down from the bridge.
S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader swept past with his retinue and issued his commands. The elite team activated their advanced camouflage systems and slipped into the shadows like wraiths. Zhang Bai was the last to vanish from view. The Chinese assassin held Samson’s gaze with hate filled eyes, and a sneer of contempt twisted his lips as she pointed at him before following her colleagues into the black.
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