Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga

by Adam J. Whitlatch

  “Took her where?”

  “I don’t know,” said Alex. “He said he’s going to make her part of his harem. We have to save her.”

  He struggled to his feet and fell to his knees.

  “You can’t fight in your condition,” Quintin protested. “I’ll go after Crystal. You go find Lamont.”

  “Quintin—”

  “Shut up and go,” said Quintin. “I’ll bring her back to you, I promise. Now, take my rifle. You’ll need it outside. And take my jacket.”

  Alex leaned against the wall and accepted the rifle, “What about you?”

  Quintin stripped off his jacket and lifted his shirt, revealing the silver handle of a laser sword shoved into the back of his jeans. “I’ll manage.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said as he struggled to put the jacket on.

  “Thank me later,” said Quintin. “These guys are starting to come around. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Alex nodded and limped down the hall as fast as his burning muscles would allow. Quintin watched until his brother disappeared around the corner. He wiped a hand over his face, smearing it with Alex’s blood. One of the troopers groaned, and Quintin quickly dropped to the floor and closed his eyes. He listened as they slowly got to their feet and began to chatter at each other in an unfamiliar language. His earpiece translated.

  “What happened?” asked one.

  “Somebody hit us,” said the other.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Who cares? Probably some kid trying to play hero. Just help me carry this punk to the Ragnarok so we can get out of this miserable place. These brats are driving me crazy.”

  Yes, that’s it, boys. Quintin smiled. Take me to your leader.

  *****

  Lamont took a couple steps back and fired the last burst from his rifle. The weapon fizzled, and he flipped it on its side. He cursed; the gauge now read empty. He flung the spent weapon aside, drew a plasma pistol from within his jacket, and fired. The small bolts bounced pathetically off the mech stalking toward him, not even making it falter in its gait. It loaded a rocket into its left-side launcher.

  The Death Walker was too busy locking onto Lamont to notice the sound of a roaring engine rapidly approaching. Lamont looked between the robot’s metal legs and saw one of the highway patrol cars bearing down on it from behind. He jumped out of the way and the mech turned to track his movements, but it didn’t notice the car until it rammed into the back of its legs and sent it toppling over onto its back.

  Moe crawled out through the driver’s side window and ran to help Lamont to his feet. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” Lamont rubbed his shoulder. “You look like you’re having fun.”

  “Time of my life,” said Moe.

  The ground shook as the twisted Death Walker slammed its claws into the concrete and righted itself. Its free arm leveled at the Replodians and the cannon spun. Moe crouched, ready to spring out of the line of fire, but the guns issued a rapid clicking. With its free gun empty, the mech swiveled its legs slowly until the feet found purchase, lifting it off the ground.

  “This isn’t working, Moe.” Lamont stared wearily at the struggling robot. “We just can’t smash these things enough to make them stay down.”

  “They’ve gotta run out of ammo sometime,” Moe said. “Right?”

  ::Lamont.::

  Lamont whirled toward the school. “Alex?”

  His eyes fell on the smashed front doors. Alex stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing his brother’s brown leather jacket and holding a plasma rifle in his right hand.

  “Alex!” Lamont shouted.

  ::Help me.:: Alex collapsed onto one knee.

  The Replodians ran to his side. Lamont laid Alex on his back while Moe covered them with his “paintball” rifle. Lamont felt along the teen’s ribs, arms, and legs, and then took his pulse. He peeled back the teen’s eyelids and frowned at how his eyes quivered.

  He dug into the pack hanging over his shoulder. “What happened in there?”

  “Temujin took Crystal,” said Alex, his voice weak.

  Moe looked over his shoulder. “He what?”

  Alex’s eyes flicked to him, barely visible under heavy lids. “I tried to stop him. He’s too strong.”

  Lamont produced an injection gun and a large vial of bubbling green liquid. “How’d you get away?”

  “Quintin,” Alex rasped. He struggled to keep his eyes open. “He took my place. He’s going after Crystal.”

  “Damn.” Moe turned toward the door. “I’ll go and get them.”

  “No!” Lamont shook the vial and pushed it firmly into the gun until it clicked. “I need you here. I can’t treat Alex and fight those things off at the same time.”

  Moe pointed to Alex’s rifle with the barrel of his own weapon. “Is that thing loaded, Alex?”

  “I think so,” Alex nodded.

  Moe tossed his rifle down and traded it for Alex’s. “Paintballs don’t do squat to these things.”

  “Neither does plasma,” Lamont observed, pushing up the sleeve of the jacket and swabbing the inside of Alex’s elbow with alcohol. “It just pisses them off.”

  Moe checked the primer. “You almost done there?”

  “Almost.” Lamont picked up the injection gun. “All right, Alex, listen up. I’m injecting you with a cocktail of adrenaline, endorphins, and muscle enhancers. It’ll give you a short boost in strength and stamina. You got that?”

  Alex nodded weakly. “Just do it.”

  Lamont pressed the barrel of the injection gun against Alex’s skin and squeezed the trigger. Twelve needles arranged in a circle pumped the green liquid into Alex’s bloodstream, and he immediately curled up in the fetal position and grunted in pain.

  “Jesus, Monty,” said Moe. “You’re supposed to fix him, not kill him.”

  “I never said it would be pleasant.”

  “Lamont?” said a voice behind them.

  Moe whipped around and snapped the butt of his rifle to his shoulder. He sighted down the barrel, training the weapon directly at the newcomer’s head. “Hold it right there, Samrai!”

  At the mention of the traitor’s name, Alex immediately snatched up Moe’s discarded paintball rifle and sat up, aiming for Sam’s head as well.

  “Help me.” Sam nodded at the wounded sheriff in his arms. “This man’s legs are broken.”

  “No thanks to you,” said Lamont.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Sam snapped. “Lecture me later! Right now this man needs help. He’s going into shock.”

  Lamont nodded. “Get him inside. Everybody get inside, now!”

  Moe whistled between his thumb and forefinger. “Fall back to the school!”

  Lamont led Sam into the lobby and pointed to a spot on the floor free of broken glass. “Lay him down, gently.”

  Sam laid the sheriff on the floor and knelt at his side as Lamont rummaged through his pack on the opposite side.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here, traitor,” said Lamont as he pulled out a blue vial and shook it. “Elevate his feet and keep him awake. Don’t let him pass out.”

  Sam obeyed and lifted the sheriff’s legs in his hands. “I came here to fight.”

  “Yeah,” Lamont scoffed as he loaded the injection gun. “Well, those creations of yours are doing a real fine job out there. You should be proud.”

  Sam grabbed Lamont’s wrist. “I came here to fight alongside you.”

  Lamont stared back, searching for the truth in his brother’s eyes.

  Moe pressed the barrel of his rifle against the side of Sam’s head. “Why should we trust you?”

  Sam looked up into his brother’s angry eyes. “Because I’m the only chance you’ve got.”

  “Maybe we’ll take our chances without you,” said Moe. “We’ve done just fine without you for the past three years.”

  “I’ve already disabled one of them,” Sam snapped. “How many have you taken out?”
/>   The Replodians fell silent.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Sam.

  Robert ran through the door. “They’re converging on the building!”

  “We can’t stop them,” added Rene, right behind him and pulling Cherry by the arm. “We can’t even slow them down.”

  Cherry doubled over and gasped for breath. “What are we going to do?”

  Robert pointed at Sam. “Who’s this?”

  “This is our brother,” said Moe, keeping the rifle pressed firmly against Sam’s head. “Samrai.”

  “The traitor?” asked Rene.

  “So you’re the one responsible for those things out there?” asked Cherry.

  Sam sighed and nodded.

  “You bastard,” said Cherry. “I hope you burn in Hell.”

  An explosion rocked the building, sending dust raining down on their heads.

  “I’m already there,” Sam whispered.

  Lamont finished administering a dose of epinephrine to the sheriff’s arm, unrolled two long plastic sleeves from his pack, and began sliding them over the man’s legs.

  “What are those?” asked Sam.

  “Temporary casts until we can get him to a hospital,” Lamont explained. He pulled out a metal spray can and shook it vigorously.

  “That’s not going to happen unless we can get past those robots,” said Robert.

  “Yeah.” Cherry slapped the back of Sam’s head with the barrel of her rifle. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Look,” Sam snapped, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “Shut up! Hold his legs still,” Lamont snapped. He pressed the button on top of the can, and the sleeves filled with rapidly hardening pink foam. “Why the sudden change of heart, Sam?”

  Sam sighed. “There was an accident. Somehow my programming—”

  The thunderous sound of metal feet and the crumbling of bricks filled the air as one of the mechs tried to force its way through the much shorter doorway.

  Lamont grabbed the sheriff by the shoulders and dragged him down the hall. “Fall back to the cafeteria!”

  Once there, Lamont and Sam carefully laid the Sheriff on one of the long lunch tables while Rene knocked over a vending machine and pushed it up against the door.

  “Oh, sure,” said Cherry. “That’ll stop them.”

  “You have a better plan?” the Cajun snapped.

  “I do,” said Sam.

  Everyone turned and stared at the blond Replodian as he pulled the duffle bag off his shoulder and set it on one of the tables, brushing aside someone’s abandoned biology homework. He unzipped the bag and pulled out one of the silver helmets.

  “What is that?” asked Moe.

  “It’s something I was developing for the Horde,” said Sam.

  “What does it do?” asked Alex.

  “It’s a self-contained suit of powered armor,” said Sam, tossing a helmet to each of his companions. “Everybody take one.”

  Lamont turned his helmet over in his hands and looked inside. “How does it work?”

  “Just put it on,” said Sam. “The helmet will do the rest.”

  Moe held up his helmet. “Kind of plain, aren't they?”

  Sam rolled his eyes contemptuously. “I didn’t have time to finish them while I was escaping from Temujin’s compound. Why? Did you want pink?”

  Moe took a step toward his brother, his hands balling into fists.

  A distant crashing sound on the other side of the door made them all jump.

  “We’re running out of time!” said Alex.

  The cafeteria doors rattled as the Death Walker bashed against them from the other side.

  “Correction,” said Rene. “We are out of time.”

  “They’re coming through!” said Cherry.

  “When you put the helmets on, you’ll feel a slight prick on your neck,” said Sam, raising his own helmet above his head. “The helmet will analyze your DNA and configure the suit to fit properly.”

  *****

  Alex took a deep breath and pulled the helmet over his head. For a moment, everything was dark and silent, but then lights blinked inside and holograms of gauges and meters flashed across the visor. He felt the prick of a needle on the back of his neck, and he winced. The display on the visor changed to a rotating view of a DNA strand and then to a three-dimensional view of Alex’s naked body in red. A white wire-frame helmet appeared over the head, and a stream of white crawled over the image of his body.

  Suddenly a cold, liquid sensation began to flow from the helmet’s collar down to the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers. He panicked as the substance enveloped his entire body and the collar at the base of the helmet contracted, forming an airtight seal around his neck. The coldness encasing his body was replaced with a warm, tingling sensation, and he felt the substance harden. Alex flexed his arms and noticed they felt incredibly light. The image on the visor showed a completed suit covering his body.

  A computerized female voice whispered in his ear, “Transformation complete.”

  The visor cleared, and he saw Sam standing in front of him, fully encased in metallic silver armor. Alex looked down and examined his hands — his powerful, metal hands. He flexed his fingers and marveled at the strength the suit gave his grip. He turned and looked at the others, who were examining their own suits in a similar manner.

  “What do you know,” said Sam in a synthesized voice. “They work!”

  Lamont turned his head to look at his brother, his expression unreadable through the black visor, but the outrage in his tone was unmistakable, even synthesized. “What do you mean, ‘They work?’”

  Sam shrugged. “I never got a chance to test them. I was afraid the alloy wouldn’t harden.”

  “Oh, now I feel safe,” said Rene.

  “What was that stuff?” asked Alex.

  “Nanobots,” said Sam. “Trillions of ‘em. Pretty sweet, huh?”

  Lamont turned to check on the sheriff, who was now shaking with fear as much as shock as he stared at the armored figures gathered around him.

  “What are you?” the lawman asked.

  Lamont placed a hand on the man’s quivering shoulder. “Rest now. We’ll send help.”

  The doors behind them crashed again and the TDC agents turned, each adopting defensive stances. The doors parted against the toppled vending machine, and Alex could just make out the movement of the Death Walkers beyond.

  “What’s taking them so long?” asked Robert. “They should be through by now.”

  “They’re too tall,” said Sam. “These ceilings are too low for them to maneuver effectively.”

  “Will that stop them?” asked Cherry.

  “Not a chance,” said Sam gravely.

  “Will these suits stop them?” asked Lamont.

  “Our armor is made of the very same alloy as the Death Walkers,” said Sam. “Ours isn’t quite as thick as theirs, but I’ve equipped these babies with all-new miniature ion cannons. They should be powerful enough to pierce their shells if my calculations are correct.”

  “That’s a mighty big ‘if,’ man,” said Moe.

  “Have I ever steered you wrong?” asked Sam.

  Moe stared at him.

  “Right.” Sam nodded. “Don’t answer that.”

  “Well it looks like we’re about to find out.” Rene pointed at the door. “Look!”

  They watched as a mech — hunched over due to the low ceiling — ripped the doors off their hinges and swiped the vending machine aside with its one remaining arm. It was the same mech Moe had crashed the truck into when they first arrived.

  “Hey there, Lucky!” Moe said. “Long time no smash.”

  “You did that?” Sam pointed at the Death Walker’s ragged shoulder joint. “Nice work, little sister.”

  “Bite me.”

  A red scanning laser flashed from the sensor eye and scanned each of the suited figures individually. Finally, the laser blinked out.

  “Sc
anning subjects,” the mech said. “Subjects are hostile. Eliminate.”

  Sam stepped forward and pointed a gloved finger at the damaged mech. “I’ll show you hostile, tin man.”

  The Death Walker opened and closed its claws in answer to its creator’s challenge.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cold steel bit into Crystal’s wrists. Even with her small hands, the handcuffs were too tight for her. She was in a dimly lit holding cell with a floor made of honeycomb steel grating.

  Heavy boots thumped in the hall, coming closer. Crystal pressed her back against the wall as the door opened and two soldiers dragged a limp body between them. When the men dropped their load onto the floor, Crystal cried out, “Alex!”

  One of the soldiers bound Alex’s hands behind his back with a pair of hinged cuffs. Alex groaned, and one of the troopers stomped on his leg, barking at him in Chinese.

  “Leave him alone!” Crystal shouted.

  The men laughed at her. One of the soldiers cleared his sinuses and spat in Alex’s hair. Crystal’s nostrils flared in outrage as she fought against her cuffs. The spitter grabbed her by the chin and made kissing noises at her. Crystal tasted bile in the back of her throat as she caught the stench of sour milk on his rancid breath.

  She fought back the urge to vomit as the soldiers left the room, laughing and taunting her until the door closed behind them. Alex groaned and tried to move. Crystal tried to walk on her knees, but lost her balance and fell onto her side. She squirmed along the floor, inching toward him.

  When she reached him, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Alex,” she sobbed. “Oh God, Alex, why are they doing this to us?”

  “Crystal?”

  Crystal recoiled. That voice! It was soft and accented. French maybe, but it definitely wasn’t her Alex.

  The boy turned his head, and Crystal got her first good look at his face. The resemblance to Alex was uncanny, but his eyes were all wrong. They shimmered like emeralds, catching what little light there was in the room. A dirty lock of auburn hair fell over the boy’s face.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Alex’s doppleganger winked. “Shhh.”

  *****

  The mangled Death Walker took another labored step into the room and snapped its claws at the suited figures. Sam stepped forward and cracked his armored knuckles.