by M. R. Forbes
The missile punched through the window he had just weakened, striking the floor a dozen meters behind him and detonating. It shook at the force, cement and carpeting shredding into shrapnel, the vibration almost making Mitchell lose his footing. He reached the door to the office and dove through it, the heat overwhelming as he landed on his back and kicked the door with his foot, knocking it momentarily closed as it caught the bulk of the debris. He scrambled to his feet, rushing back toward the stairwell at the same time the camera feed showed it opening.
He didn't hesitate, opening fire on the door, squeezing off three bursts of rounds before dropping the magazine and replacing it. The mercenaries tried to get the door closed, but he had hit one of them and dropped them in front of it, forcing them to clear the downed soldier. They decided not to bother, moving out and shooting back.
The building shook again, knocking everyone from their feet at the sudden impact of a Hornet crashing into the side of it. At least, that's what Mitchell imagined it was. What else could hit like that? He hoped it was Blackrock's and not Katherine and Trevor.
He was up first, the synthetic hormones churning through him, making him a better soldier than anyone could be on their own. He rushed the mercenaries, reaching them as they got up, shooting one in the head at point-blank range before grabbing the other. He lifted him right off the ground, turning and throwing him against the wall. As the soldier stumbled back, he grabbed his head and twisted, breaking his neck.
"Peregrine, this is Ares, do you copy?"
He climbed over the fallen soldiers and into the stairwell. Immediately, bullets began hitting the railing ahead of him, fired from above and below. He backed off, cursing and unsure where to go to escape.
That was when he realized the p-rat couldn't hear the cutting anymore.
He went back into the hallway, desperate to escape the crossfire. Two pairs of soldiers rounded the corner on each side as he did.
Bullets scored the walls behind him as he started to run, sprinting back the way he had come. He was out of time. He was out of options. He was trapped, with nowhere left to turn.
"Peregrine, if you can hear me, get your ass to the east side of the twenty-eighth floor right now."
He kept running, knowing that the bullets would begin to pour in from behind him at any moment. He charged down the hallway, almost laughing when he saw the door to the vaporized office had somehow remained closed.
"Ares, open the door," he heard Katherine say a moment later.
The bullets were like a swarm of angry flies as they began to chase him down the corridor. The door was right up ahead, and he dove forward, leaving the ground in a desperate lunge, his hand landing on the handle as he slammed into it, the existing damage and the strength of his impact forcing the doorway to collapse inward. He rode it down and onto a charred chunk of concrete, his eyes forward, staring directly into the side of the Hornet where an open missile bay revealed a deadly warhead.
It burst from its tube, streaking over his head before the rocket motor ignited and sent it on its way down the hallway at an even greater velocity. Then the Hornet was turning, rotating around to give him the ass end and the open platform there. He forced himself to his feet even as he heard the explosion behind him, taking one step and then throwing himself out toward the gunship. He watched his feet clear the empty space between him and the ground, crossing three meters until they hit the ramp. He landed hard on his stomach only fractions of a second before the blast sent a shockwave out and into the aircraft, throwing it forward. He reached out, getting his hand on the hydraulics just in time to avoid being pushed right off, hanging on as the Hornet shook and spun.
Then it leveled and straightened, rising as it began to accelerate. Trevor appeared in the bay a moment later, standing at the edge of the ramp and reaching out. Mitchell gave him his hand, letting himself be pulled up and into the belly of the gunship as the rear platform closed.
"Welcome aboard, Colonel," Trevor said, a huge smile creasing his face. It vanished a second later as he had time to assess Mitchell. "Damn, you look like you just walked out of Hell."
Mitchell slumped into one of the jump seats. The synthetics were already being tapered, his body quickly coming out of its heightened state. He could feel the burns on his arms tingling, and the soreness in the rest of his muscles. He checked his p-rat. He had some smaller cuts and bruises, but somehow he had managed to avoid being shot. His head was spinning, and he knew he was going to lose consciousness.
"Peregrine," Mitchell said. "Maybe your callsign should be Angel?"
Trevor laughed. "The frigging Angel of Death, Colonel. I've never seen anything like it."
"Just doing my job, Colonel," Katherine replied. "I'm just doing my job."
Mitchell smiled, the world getting dimmer around him.
He knew how special she was.
He would call bullshit when he woke up.
19
"HQ, this is Bravo, over."
"Go ahead, Bravo," Michael said.
"We're closing in on your position," Max said. "We should be there in about fifteen minutes."
"Roger, Bravo. We'll be happy to see you. It's been a little lonely here."
The channel filled with Max's laughter. "You're there by yourself with Kathy, and you're lonely? What the hell is wrong with you, bro?"
Michael's face began to flush, but Kathy laughed along with the soldier.
"I'm just screwing with you," Max said a moment later. "Any sign of the enemy?"
"Negative. Radar scans are clear."
"Good news. We should make it in ahead of those bastards. Keep us posted if anything changes."
"Affirmative. HQ out."
Michael turned to Kathy, who was still smiling. "It's not funny."
"Yes it is," she said.
He made a face at her, causing her to laugh harder.
"I don't know how you can laugh at a time like this," he said.
"It's the best time to laugh, Michael. Otherwise, the tension will get you killed."
"You said I'm not going to die."
"You won't. Bravo will be here in fifteen, and all is still quiet with the world."
A heavy pulse along the surface of the Core drew her attention.
"And the Core is done," she said.
She reached out to put her hand on the tightly wound sphere. It surprised her by rolling back a few inches, just enough to escape her reach.
"Huh?" Michael said.
Kathy was going to reach for the Core again when the bunched tendrils began to move, spreading apart and readjusting themselves. It was a signal to Kathy that the Core was ready, not only with the search, but to leave the facility. She watched in awe as hundreds of thousands of thin strands writhed and shifted like snakes, unraveling from the sphere and putting themselves into alternate locations along the main system. The engine became visible in the center of it for a moment before vanishing again.
A shape quickly began to form from the raw materials, spreading out from the center. The head became obvious first, followed by the torso, and then the arms and legs, and finally the details like fingers, toes, nose, ears, and mouth. Smaller details were ignored, leaving it without eyes, nostrils, pinna, or fingernails.
"I have completed the query," the Core announced, the tendrils of its system tightening into place, bunching together and giving the entire thing the appearance of a human whose skin had been removed, revealing the musculature beneath. It pushed itself up on its arms, coming to a sitting position.
"I was not expecting that," Michael said, staring at the Core. "That is awesome."
"Thank you," the Core replied. "Watson has already predicted this branch."
"We thought he might," she said. "That's why we added the extra parameters."
"Yes," the Core said. "The algorithm has surfaced one name."
"One?" Michael said. "What happened to everyone else?"
"Dr. Leonard Savoy, age sixty-seven, found dead in his home of an ap
parent suicide. Dr. Shirley Watts, age thirty-four, murdered during her morning run in Central Park. Dr. James Kain, age forty-one, killed in an automobile accident. Shall I continue?"
Michael's face was pale. "He killed all of them?"
"Not all," the Core said. "Dr. Patricia Walker is an employee of Nova Taurus, and likely a configuration by now. As is Dr. Sonal Ravi."
"Killed or taken," Michael corrected. "Excuse me."
"He missed one," Kathy said. "And one is all we need. What is the name and location?"
"Dr. Paul Frelmund," the Core replied.
"Paul Frelmund?" Michael said. "The crazy guy who wrote that book about the XENO-1?"
"He was one of the first scientists on the Goliath after the war ended," Kathy said. "He was brilliant."
"Was," Michael said. "Past tense. There's a reason Watson missed him. He was disgraced after he started spouting all of this crap about conspiracies and cover-ups and God and the End of Days. He tried to sabotage the lab right before he got fired for tainting samples. And the last time I checked his field was biology, not machine intelligence."
"You helped us build the query," Kathy said. "You don't trust the results?"
"I thought I would until you just said Paul Frelmund. My father worked under him during and after the war. He said the guy went completely mental. Cuckoo. Nuts. How else do you need me to say it?"
"We cannot evolve the virus on our own, Michael," the Core said. "We created the first version alone, and it did not have the expected outcome. The addition of emotion to Watson's routines means the vector has been altered further, and we require an expert in the field."
"How did the query turn him up?" Michael asked. "Of all people?"
"Deeper inquiries through the Darknet have turned up documents produced by Dr. Frelmund and stored on a personal data cache that to this point has remained undetected by Watson, likely due to the Doctor's status as a lunatic. He has been writing a follow-up to his book, in which he plans to posit that the XENO-1 is, in fact, a time-traveling human starship and not an alien craft."
Michael's mouth stayed open, but he didn't speak.
"How does he know that?" Kathy said.
"Analysis of the text and assessment of his theories suggest that Dr. Frelmund may have taken something from the crash site that has revealed the truth of our origins. Whether or not Dr. Frelmund is insane, he has been inadvertently studying the Tetron for quite some time, and may have an understanding of the source code within. When correlated with the biological component of his background, there is a seventy-seven percent likelihood that the Doctor can provide the necessary level of support to enhance the T-virus properly."
"It also doesn't seem he's as crazy as people think," Kathy said.
"I still don't like it," Michael said.
"Where is he?" Kathy asked.
"Miami, Florida," the Core replied.
"At least he's close," Michael said.
"Look on the bright side," Kathy said, turning to him. "We're going to make it out before Watson can catch up to us."
A shrill beep sounded from the computer behind them. They looked at the monitor, which was showing a map of the area around them, a fresh red dot moving in from the northeast. It had the radar profile of a small bird, but it wasn't moving like one.
"Famous last words?" Michael said.
20
"Get Bravo on the comm and update them," Kathy said. "I'll meet you upstairs." She paused, putting her hand on Michael's shoulder. "We're going to get out of here."
Michael nodded, though he didn't feel convinced. The timing was close, too close. It seemed like everything came down to centimeters and seconds, ever since he had agreed to go to that party with Katherine and had nearly wound up dead. His life had been a whirlwind since then. A mess of chaos and close calls that had at first left him feeling traumatized but now had become almost a welcome relief from having time to think about what he was being asked to endure. It was a strange paradox. Not nearly as strange as the concept of infinite recursion, but a close second.
His heart was pounding as he returned to the computer, while Kathy hurried from the room.
"Bravo, this is HQ, do you copy?" he said. The Core remained in the room with him, standing silent and still, hands at its sides.
"HQ, this is Bravo. We read you loud and clear. What's the situation?"
"Radar just picked up incoming, moving in fast. One target."
"Roger that, HQ. We're at full throttle now, updated ETA, eight minutes."
Michael shivered slightly. Eight minutes? He checked the radar. Whatever was incoming, it would be here in two.
"You're six minutes behind," he said.
"Nothing we can do about it, HQ. It's up to you and Kathy to hold down the fort for a few until we arrive."
Michael looked back at the Core. "Are you good for anything besides standing there?"
"Yes," the Core said. It didn't elaborate.
"Bravo, this is HQ. We're bugging out. Try to get here before we get swatted."
"Roger. Will do."
Michael quit the screen, moving to the terminal and entering the kill command that would erase their data and destroy both the machine and the network it was connected to, leaving nothing for Watson to take. Then he got to his feet, feeling weird in the camouflaged fatigues.
"Let's go," he said to the Core, which followed him from the room with a smooth, nearly silent gait.
They hurried to the stairs. Michael had done his best to get into some manner of shape in the last few weeks, and he had even lost a little weight. He was happy to find he wasn't out of breath when he reached the top, but the feeling didn't last long. He could hear the sound of a powerful engine in the distance, one that he knew was headed this way.
He exited out into the cabin, where Kathy was kneeling behind the window, a heavy NX-600 assault rifle in her hands. She saw him and pointed over to a matching weapon sitting on top of a black duffel.
"That one's yours," she said. "Take a position at the other window."
Michael swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from shaking. He could feel the sweat pooling beneath his arms, and running down the back of his neck. It was ice cold.
He made it to the gun on shaky legs, picking it up. It was heavy. Heavier than he remembered from his limited practice with it. He carried it to the opposite window and put it on his shoulder the way Mitchell had taught him. He had a few seconds free to reconsider his decision tree, and he couldn't help but wonder what he was doing there as he did. He could have stayed out of it. He could have gone back to Colorado. Why did he have to care so much about Katherine, and now Kathy?
His mouth was dry, his palms moist. The rifle felt slick in his grip. There was nothing to see out there. Not yet. He could hear the engine noise getting louder.
"What if they nuke the cabin?" he asked.
"And risk the Core or the engine? Not a chance," Kathy replied.
"So we just sit here and wait for reinforcements?"
"For now. Let's see what he throws at us."
Kathy's voice was so calm. He was amazed by how she could stay so relaxed when things were about to turn violent. Sure, he had felt that relaxed when he played his favorite vids, but those were games. This was the real thing, and dying was permanent.
The engine noise continued to increase in volume until it was so loud he couldn't hear anything else. The Core put a hand out then, a beam of light shining from it and creating a hologram between them. It showed the aircraft, a big, angled thing.
"B-66," Kathy shouted. "At least we don't have to worry about it strafing us."
The Core closed its hand. A moment later, Michael could see a shape through the trees, crashing down into the landing field beyond.
"Do you know what that is?" he shouted.
The Core didn't react. He took that as a no.
A few thumps sounded on the roof a moment later. Kathy seemed to know what that was, because she cursed and dropped onto her back, swingi
ng the rifle to the source of the noise and opening fire.
The thud, thud, thud of the NX-600 filled the cabin, as large shell casings ejected and clattered onto the floor around her. The slugs tore through the wood roof, splintering it and eliciting cries of pain as her bullets found flesh. The rounds had the force to go clean through body armor, steel, anything.
Her response sent the drop team scrambling from the rooftop, rolling down the sides away from the windows. The Core turned, using its fingers to track movement on both sides. Kathy got back to her feet, following the point and shooting again. Once more, the bullets went right through the wood and created chaos outside.
Michael was in the middle of thinking this wasn't too bad when something moved in the corner of his eye. He turned to face it, seeing only a matte metallic silhouette behind the trees.
Then there was a crack, and the tree was pushed aside by a large, metal hand. It seemed to move in slow motion as it began to topple, revealing the nightmarish machine behind it.
"Kathy," Michael said, trying to shout but barely producing a whisper. "Kathy."
It came out better the second time. Maybe the Core was meant to make Watson shit himself, but he was sure this thing would do the same to him.
She was still tracking the soldiers who had dropped on the cabin. Now she turned toward him. "What is-" Her voice trailed off as she saw the machine through the window. "Oh. Damn. Frigging mech."
21
"Mech?" Michael said.
He had played vids featuring mechs before. Ten-meter robots, heavily armed and armored, stomping across battlefields and slamming one another with incendiary fury. He knew the military was working on the technology, trying to turn the monsters into a reality, under the supposition that a humanoid shape would be more versatile in a war zone than something like a tank. If it could lift or pull or carry in addition to blowing the shit out of things, it had to be more useful.