by Rick Partlow
What Suarez noted that he didn’t see as they fast-walked through the facility was any of the biomechs. Pallet jacks sat abandoned in the middle of aisles, forklifts lay dormant and not a soul stirred…or even the soulless, he reflected with black humor. And on his visor’s HUD, he continued to see one report after another of attacks by biomechs, all around the city. Already, there had been an emergency bulletin warning citizens to stay in their residences and stay off the street.
“This is fucking weird,” Suarez muttered, eyes flickering around, thinking of the dozen or so of the things he’d seen out on the loading docks.
“Shut up,” Raines snapped, not looking back at the other officer. “Dispatch,” the older man transmitted over his helmet radio, “this is Four November Thirteen; we are on foot at the Public Works Administration. There’s something wrong here. We need backup.”
“Four November Thirteen,” came the response, a harried voice that seemed on the edge of panic and broadcast on the same TacNet that Suarez was tuned to, “you’re going to have to wait on backup. We have half a dozen assaults by biomechs all over the city, three homicides already…all Tactical Teams have been called out, all surveillance drones are occupied.” A pause. “I think I have another unit about ten kilometers from you…I’ll tell them you need help, but things are going crazy all over the city.”
“Roger, dispatch,” Raines responded flatly. “I understand.” He glanced back at Suarez. “Just you and me, Eddie…and I have a really itchy feeling about this. Yo, kid,” he said to the receptionist, who looked more than anything like he wanted to find a hole and climb into it, “get out of here. Go lock yourself in somewhere safe.”
The young man didn’t even bother to respond; he just took off running back the way they’d come. Raines shook his head as he watched him go, then he waved for Suarez to follow him. They moved slowly through the warehouse and came to a sterile-white double door that was labeled “Biomech Storage.” Raines touched the ID plate but the door stayed closed and the plate’s display informed them that proper authorization was needed to enter the area.
Muttering a curse, Raines fumbled at his belt for his issued ‘link, scrolling to his TAPD emergency access code then touching the ‘link to the plate. There was the briefest of hesitations, then the doors slid aside…
Suarez would never remember how it happened or why he did what he did. He didn’t remember the automated visual recognition system in his helmet visor displaying the “gun” warning, although he knew it must have. He didn’t remember actually seeing the carbines that the biomechs were holding, or even noticing they were biomechs and that there were a whole group of them lined up behind the door.
He certainly didn’t remember using the sighting system on his CAWS, or pulling the trigger. The first thing he remembered was the buck of the padded stock against his shoulder, the feeling of surprise as it drove him back a step, and the deep, thundering roar of the weapon that finally reached his ears. The sound seemed to bring everything to stark clarity and Suarez saw the biomech directly in front of the open doors stagger backwards, a tight pattern of ragged holes torn through the chest of its orange coveralls.
Staggered, but didn’t go down…until another load of buckshot took it in the face and splashed most of its head across the far wall and the thing collapsed face-first to the floor. Suarez dimly realized that Raines had fired the second shot, but the lead-heavy ball of fear in his gut forced out all thought and all he could bring himself to do was stand there and squeeze the trigger over and over, spraying a hail of 6mm pellets into the crowd of biomechs. Some part of his brain that was still trying to think was screaming at him to duck, to run, to do something because any second those armed biomechs were going to start shooting, but the thoughts couldn’t seem to penetrate through to his conscious mind…
Suarez saw the flash of a muzzle blast out of the corner of his eye and then something jerked him sharply and violently to the left, sending him stumbling away from the gunshots. It took him a long moment to realize that Sgt. Raines was yanking him by the handle on the back of his armored vest, pulling him towards cover. He stopped fighting the stumble and sprinted in the direction Raines was pulling, throwing himself behind a thick, metal air treatment turbine component, right next to where Raines was already crouched.
Rifle fire echoed off the walls of the warehouse in a cacophonous drumbeat, and heavy caliber slugs rang off the turbine part or thumped into it with a flat finality; it took a conscious effort for Suarez to control his bladder. He cringed away from the hail of incoming fire, closing his eyes instinctively and hugging the CAWS to him like a security blanket. He’d never been shot at before…
“Eddie!” Raines’ voice screamed in his ear over his helmet radio, drowning out the gunfire. “Get off your ass and follow me!”
Suarez opened his eyes and saw Raines heading off down the aisle toward the far side of the warehouse, sheltered from the incoming fire by the stacked pallets…and not waiting for him. Suarez stifled a scream and took off after the TAPD Sergeant, followed by bullet impacts that ripped into and through plastic containers all around him. Finally he reached the far wall, slamming into it with his shoulder hard enough to nearly knock the wind out of him, then using the impact to change his direction and head down the narrow aisle there back towards the exit to the access corridor.
Raines was about twenty meters ahead of him and in his helmet’s headphones he could hear the Sergeant bellowing at Dispatch over their radio link.
“Four November Thirteen is taking fire!” the older man wheezed, breathing heavily. “Repeat, we are taking fire from armed biomechs! We need backup now!”
“Roger, Four November Thirteen,” Dispatch replied immediately. “I’ll reroute a Tactical team to your location ASAP!”
Suarez fought back a hysterical cackle as he reflected that the Tactical Team might arrive in time to recover their bodies.
Then, as if his thoughts were prophetic, he saw Sgt. Raines go down like his legs had been kicked out from under him, his CAWS clattering to the floor as he fell heavily onto his side. Suarez heard a whimper and realized it was coming from his own mouth, but he was acting before he had time to think, slinging his own CAWS over his shoulder and grabbing Raines by the back of the man’s armored vest. He grunted as he nearly came to a halt: Raines was a big man, not all of it muscle, and it took a huge, gasping effort to pull him to his feet.
“Come on, old man!” Suarez yelled, trying to get Raines moving.
He could see the door just a few meters ahead, but it was out in the open…and it was locked. He would have to get his ‘link out and hold it to the ID plate and he was fairly sure that would take just long enough to get both of them killed.
“Sgt. Raines,” he said, panting with effort, “get your ‘link out and get ready to open that door. I’ll hold them off while you do it.”
“Don’t…be…stupid,” Raines gasped out, obviously in pain. “Give me your gun…I’ll hold them off.”
“If you do that, I’ll just have to come back and haul you out the door,” Suarez argued, hauling the man to the edge of the last row of storage shelves and setting him down against the wall, then unslinging his CAWS and ducking around the end to get a look at the biomechs.
There were at least twenty of them and they were advancing steadily down the center aisle, not shooting at the moment, but scanning back and forth, searching for targets.
“You open the door,” Suarez went on, pulling back and taking a moment to switch out the empty magazine on his CAWS for a full one. He was surprised at how calm he suddenly felt. “Get through it and I’ll run out and we can close it behind us. It’ll be faster.”
“Forget it, Eddie,” Raines said quietly. “I can’t walk on this leg.”
Suarez glanced back and saw the pool of blood forming under Raines’ right leg, saw the ragged hole punched through the thinner armor over the man’s calf.
“Shit,” he muttered, feeling an emptiness in the pit of
his stomach.
“Get out of here, Eddie,” Raines told him, grimacing in pain. “Give me the shotgun and go…that’s an order.”
Suarez looked at the door, then back to Raines. He realized that, on some level, he really wanted to do just what the Sergeant had asked him to do, to run and leave Raines there. He stuck his head around the corner one more time and saw the formation of biomechs only about ten meters away. One of them spotted him and swung the barrel of its carbine around and Suarez jerked backwards just as he spotted the muzzle flash. A long burst tore into the aluminum support for the shelving just above his head, and he could hear fragments of it bouncing off his ballistic helmet.
“Oh fuck it!” he yelled, half to Raines, half to himself. “Too late now!”
Raines had his sidearm out, Suarez noted, grasping it tightly in both hands like a totem against evil. “Aim low,” the police sergeant told him. “Take out their legs.”
Suarez didn’t bother to reply, just steeled himself, took a deep breath then lunged out beyond the edge of the shelving, laying himself out on his side on the concrete, his CAWS against his shoulder. He managed to use his helmet’s sighting system this time, putting the aiming reticle over the right knee of the closest biomech and then touching the trigger. The weapon punched back against him and the thing’s knee exploded in a spray of blood and orange cloth, sending the biomech pitching forward off balance.
Suarez kept the trigger pressed down, firing the CAWS full auto as he swung it across the line of biomechs, his vision blurring as adrenaline coursed through his system along with a growing certainty that they were both going to die. Before he had a chance to see the results of his barrage, the police officer felt a punch in his chest like a baseball bat as a bullet slammed into his armored vest, squeezing the air from his lungs and making his right arm go numb; then something hit him in the helmet and suddenly everything was darkness and his ears were filled with a hollow ringing.
He was sure that he’d taken a bullet to the head and he was waiting for the next round to hit and finish him off when he felt hands grabbing him and pulling him backwards. He had the crazy thought that the biomechs were dragging him away to some fate worse than death and tried to struggle against whatever was holding him, but then something yanked his helmet off and he could see again…and he could see that the person dragging him was dressed in military body armor.
“Relax, officer,” the soldier told him over his helmet’s external speakers. “You’re going to be okay.”
Suarez got his legs underneath him and started walking on his own, seeing that they were back in the hallway heading to the public service portion of the facility and that another of the soldiers was half-carrying Raines. There were six of them, dressed in grey-camo body armor and carrying suppressed carbines, and three were backing down the corridor, their weapons aimed at the sealed doors.
Suarez followed them back to the public service area, where he saw four others waiting. One was in the same grey camouflaged full body armor and helmet as the rest, carrying a suppressed carbine as they did; the other three wore lighter armor colored a dull black and were fitted with a combination earpiece and single-eye reticle rather than a helmet. One was a woman---not a bad looking one either, he realized hazily---with shoulder length brown hair tied into a ponytail at her neck and a compact submachine gun held tightly in her hands. The second was a short, dark-haired, dark-skinned younger man with a nervous expectation to his stance and a magazine-fed grenade launcher cradled in his arms. The last was in charge, Suarez could sense it. He was average height, with a look of lean strength to him; with short, reddish brown hair and a face that Suarez thought looked familiar from somewhere…
“Who are you guys?” Suarez asked, still wheezing as he tried to work air into his bruised chest.
“We’re from the government,” the redhead said, with an acerbic edge to his voice. “We’re here to help you.”
Chapter Twenty Six
“What the hell is going on down there, Franks?” Shannon Stark asked over her ‘link as she watched the brown, tan and green of the North American continent grow closer in the viewscreen of the assault lander.
“You been auditing the news reports and police dispatches, ma’am?” Franks’ reply came a moment later, the chatter of automatic weapons audible in the background. “Every biomech in Trans Angeles is going nuts and attacking people. The police and emergency services are tied up dealing with the civilian casualties and trying to take down the biomechs. We won’t be getting any help from the TAPD…in fact, if we have any Marines or Homeworld Guard troops available, you should see about getting them in here to help put a lid on things.”
“Understood,” Shannon said curtly, a knot of worry forming in her stomach as she thought about Jason’s parents. “What’s your situation?”
“We have at least a couple dozen biomechs armed with automatic weapons holding the warehouse,” he told her and again she heard gunfire somewhere nearby. “Miller and the rest of Manning’s team is keeping them contained, and I’ve got drones out trying to get a bigger picture of what’s happening in the warehouse, and our lander is circling around trying to give us some intell, but most of the city’s roofed over from this point in.” There was a shout from behind him and Franks cursed. “Ma’am, they’re trying to make a break-out at the loading docks, I have to go.”
“Report when you have anything solid,” she told him. “Stark out.”
The assault shuttle’s pilot glanced over at her. She was a tall, slender woman with high cheekbones and a face that hinted at Asian ancestry. She had short, dark hair and carried an air of competence to her that had always impressed Shannon.
“Change in plans, Colonel?” she asked with her characteristic unflappable cool.
“No, Commander Villanueva,” she said, shaking her head, “take us to Trans Angeles.” She hit a control on her ‘link and waited a moment before receiving an answer.
“This is Marquesa Fiorentino, Colonel Stark,” a familiar woman’s voice finally replied. “What can I do for you?”
“Ms. Fiorentino,” Shannon said, “is the President’s office aware of the situation in Trans Angeles?”
“We’ve received reports of some incidents, Colonel.” Fiorentino temporized. “We’ve been waiting on a more detailed briefing from the City Governor…”
“Ms. Fiorentino,” Shannon interrupted, “we have teams on the ground in Trans Angeles right now. We’ve received intelligence that the bratva are planning a nanovirus attack on the city, and I can’t think that the reported attacks by biomechs on the civilian population are coincidental. It’s my opinion that the enemy has found a way to take control of the biomech workers remotely and they’re using them to keep the local police busy to allow them cover for their attack.”
“Colonel,” Fiorentino began, her voice full of protest, “we have no evidence…”
“Ma’am,” Shannon said firmly, “I have people on the ground who have been fired on by armed biomechs, and they didn’t arm themselves! We need any available troops sent in to help ASAP…whoever’s closest. I know there are Homeworld Guard security platoons stationed around Capital City…I need you to authorize General Rietveld to police them up along with any loose Marines he can snag and get them to Trans Angeles before this turns into a bloodbath.”
“What about the nanovirus?” The voice wasn’t Fiorentino’s. It was the deep, male rumble of Greg Jameson. He’d been listening in the whole time, most likely.
“My people will take care of securing the nanovirus, Mr. President,” Shannon assured him. “But they can’t do anything about the biomechs. The Trans Angeles Police are going to need military aid, and fast.”
There was a long pause before President Jameson replied. “All right, Colonel Stark,” he finally said. “I’ll refer the matter to General Rietveld and authorize him to take charge of the matter. Keep me informed about the progress of your operation. I don’t want to be hearing about this second-hand on the news.�
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“Understood, sir,” Shannon said, her lip curling up. She knew exactly what he was saying, and he knew she knew. She looked at her ‘link and saw that the connection had been cut.
She hesitated just a moment before she looked up another address on her ‘link and touched the name. She waited for it to connect, but instead received a recorded message.
“Sorry I’m not taking calls at the moment,” said a voice that was a slightly more weathered version of Jason’s, harsher and rougher around the edges just like the man behind it. “Leave a message if it’s important and I’ll get back with you.”
“Damn,” Shannon muttered, then brought up the address for Jason’s mother, but received an automated announcement that the ‘link was not taking calls.
Still cursing softly under her breath, she called up an application to track their ‘links’ locations. When she saw it, she let out a deep sigh and settled back in her seat, closing her eyes for just a moment as she let the acceleration from the shuttle’s boost press her deeper into its liquid cushion.
“Esmeralda,” she said quietly to Commander Villanueva, “would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
“I suppose not, ma’am,” Villanueva responded with half a shrug.
“Why didn’t things work out with you and Vinnie?”
Villanueva considered the question for a moment, seemingly unfazed by it. “Our duty kept us apart too often,” she said. “We grew apart, not together, until we didn’t have much to talk about anymore except our military careers.” She turned and looked Shannon in the eye. “That’s the difference between us, I think. Vinnie is military, right to the core. It’s who he is. Me,” she shrugged, “this is just what I do, for now. I love to fly and the Fleet gives me a chance to do it, but I won’t be Fleet forever. Vinnie…he’ll die a soldier.”