The Suns of Liberty (Book 3): Republic
Page 17
“We. Are. Coming.”
The camera went dark.
Tarleton leapt up from the desk and motioned for Von Cyprus to follow him, all in one fluid motion. He was a flurry of energy. The scientist followed him into the adjoining Viewing Room.
On the wall-sized screens, Council Guard stations were being mobilized. Surveillance footage from inside the hundreds of stations across the country beamed onto the room’s many screens.
“It’s begun, Eric!” He raised a fist in the air. “The Iron Fist in all its glory.”
“Yes,” Von Cyprus agreed. “But what’s the real plan? I know you aren’t going to give them twenty-four hours to prepare,” the scientist said, bringing a sly grin to the chairman’s face.
“Of course not! I’m not giving them any pardons, either. But if they turn themselves in before we get there, all the better. Less work for our troops, less of a strain on our resources. What do we care as long as they are all dead or captured?”
Von Cyprus grinned. “You said they wouldn’t be charged if they hadn’t committed a crime.”
“I did,” Tarleton said, slyly nodding his head.
“But you also said the Resistance is a clear and present danger.” Von Cyprus was putting it all together now, and Tarleton kept nodding at him as he spoke. “Making just being a member of the Resistance—”
“A crime,” Tarleton hissed.
LOS ANGELES, CA
TEN MINUTES LATER
Nestled in the shadows of the old Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum was a large abandoned health center lined up at the three-way intersection between West Jefferson Boulevard, McClintock Avenue, and Hoover Street. It stood on what used to be part of the University of Southern California, just down the boulevard from the old Shrine Auditorium. Abandoned, like the rest of the area, to blight and decay.
Only it wasn’t actually abandoned. It was the HQ for the Los Angeles division of the Resistance and the main headquarters for all insurgent activity in the great state of California. It had one significant vulnerability. Unlike most, this HQ was not located on a body of water.
There were no easy escape routes for the inhabitants.
The strike team had gathered on the weed-infested remnants of the old McAlister Soccer Field, just off of Hoover Street. The team was mostly for show. The drones had already begun the attack, and the Photuris hovered fifty feet above, firing its black energy into the facility at its leisure, softening up any defenses.
The strike force had fanned out up and down the streets until they had surrounded the facility. Several of the large vans moved in and halted in the facility’s large parking lot.
Tarleton and Von Cyprus watched from the Viewing Room in New York. They celebrated as the drones and strike teams opened fire.
No warning was given, no ultimatum sounded.
The initial attack followed the same protocol that was used at Willow Grove. They targeted the leader of the Minutemen first, and with one fatally accurate headshot, took him down, followed quickly by a tri-directional open fire from the strike team. Luminescent bullets streaked through the compound, slicing through steel, concrete, and bodies before losing their charge. But that opening round was just to soften them up.
Next came the drones. They would do the bulk of the dirty work. They pounded the facility again and again. The roof was burning and caving in spots as great clouds of black smoke billowed into the clear California sky by the time they were done.
The large silver visage of the Photuris finally floated down from the heavens. It marched toward the main entrance of the facility, raised its arms, and fired streaks of black death-rays at the door. In seconds the door was gone.
The big machine lumbered inside.
Now, in the Viewing Room at Freedom Rise, the two men watched as one of the screens blinked to life showing the Photuris’s POV display. Anything that moved was a target.
The Photuris was deadly accurate. Even sprinting or diving Minutemen with fresh legs and proper training could not escape the machine’s wrath. Each time a person was struck by the black beams of electricity they died screaming. Their bodies burned into black sparks of nothingness. It only took a few minutes, and the civilian workforce of the facility began to drop to the ground, just as they had been taught, putting their hands over their heads in the universal pose of surrender.
Terrified.
Within a matter of moments, the occupants of the third largest Resistance HQ had been either killed or captured. As the strike team loaded up their prisoners, the Photuris began to glow with a dark, unholy blackness that enveloped the entire machine. The Photuris aimed its robotic hands at the ceiling and blasted a perfect hole through the burning patchwork of roof, which shattered like cinders in a campfire.
It shot up into the air and zoomed across the sky at a speed too fast to follow. It was just a darkening in the heavens.
The big screens in the Viewing Room had visual access to every strike team. Tarleton took it all in like a child surveying his toy collection. All across the country the teams descended on Resistance HQs. Chicago, New York, Dallas, Miami, St. Louis, and of course, Norristown, PA. This was just the first round.
CHAPTER 24
NORRISTOWN, PA
‘SITUATION ROOM’
“I want this building evacuated in twenty minutes!” Revolution yelled.
“What about us?” Scarlett asked.
“You’re coming with me.”
“No!” she said too loud, spinning around to see if anyone noticed. “No, I told you,” she whispered, “I can’t risk that. I can’t risk you. It’s not safe.”
Scarlett’s mind raced. Her lungs ached for a cigarette. Which was stupid, she didn’t smoke—well, at least not regularly, she told herself. Her hands were trembling. They balled into fists. She glanced around at the others, a pall of sympathy washing across her features but then hardening. “Only if we have to.”
Night was falling hard as Revolution led them out of the room and into the hall. The building was in perpetual motion. Everyone running. Moving equipment, grabbing belongings. Emergency protocols were being followed and recited. Word of the other attacks had begun to spread. Fear was a living thing tugging at everyone.
They all loaded into the vans that were concealed in a large hangar-type section of the ground floor—a typical feature of nearly any Resistance HQ. Lantern warned they had only minutes before the Council Guard would descend on the facility. He tracked the convoy of trucks containing the Council strike force. There was no indication they knew the Suns were there—which would explain why they put their largest force in L.A. Tarleton probably thought that was the most important target he was taking down that day.
Little did he know who was concealed in Norristown.
Revolution barked orders the whole time. Priority one was getting the injured Minutemen out of the building and onto waiting vans. Many of them were either up and walking at this point or were in wheelchairs, so it made transporting them out much easier than bringing them in from the battlefield.
The Suns all found a van waiting just for them as well. With Spectral and Scarlett towing along it made for a very full vehicle. Every seat taken. They drove the van only as far as they had to and then switched over to a decidedly superior form of transportation.
Stealthhawk-2. The sleek bird glided down to a smooth landing in an open field, its rotors blasting wind in a near-silent chop. Its pilot disembarked and headed off with the van into the night.
Tall grass that would have shown golden in the sunlight whipped in frantic waves. The Suns trudged out of a thick forest that surrounded them on all sides, blocking the view of the Sikorsky from the road. Once inside the chopper, Revolution stayed in his
own frantic world, barking orders into the Com. Getting updates on how many had escaped Norristown before the Council Guard had arrived.
They were on the ground mere seconds. Sophia kept the copter rising up, above the clouds. They leveled out and shot across the sky.
Ward was frustrated. “Rev, aren’t there any HQs that we can go defend? I get we don’t want to take on the robot with the black energy stuff, but a bunch of Council Guardsmen, we can take them. Shouldn’t we superheroes occasionally act like, you know, superheroes?”
Revolution rose in the cargo bay, right behind the cockpit. “The strikes were quick, lethal, and spread out. The fact is there’s no one left to help. And everyone at Norristown’s accounted for.”
“That’s good,” Ward agreed. “But that didn’t happen everywhere. What about the prisons? Lantern knows where some of our people are being held, right?”
Lantern nodded.
Ward thumped his chest. “We took down the Delaware in the middle of a hurricane. I’m pretty sure we can take out a cop shop.”
“Nobody wants to go after the bastards more than me,” Sophia said from the pilot’s seat. “But if we attack a jail, we’re attacking local law enforcement, too. Collateral damage could be high.”
“How about a jail break? Sneak in, dart the guards,” Rachel said, eyeing Ward. “Grab our folks, and sneak back out. Nobody has to get hurt.”
Revolution shrugged. “Not bad, but how would we know who is who? We don’t want to let out the wrong people.”
“There has to be a list somewhere, right?” Drayger said.
“Yeah, but where would we take them? They won’t all fit in here. We could be putting them in greater danger than if we left them in jail,” Sophia said bleakly over her shoulder.
Revolution noticed Scarlett seemed dubious of Ward and Rachel’s ideas. She knew the Council better than any of his team. Scarlett’s skepticism just added to his judgment that the risk was still too great to confront the Council directly, despite the ache in the pit of his stomach. He thought about the hundreds of Resistance members scared and alone, huddled in jail cells with hardened criminals, and he shivered. There was nothing he could do for them now.
Revolution decided to end the debate. “Until we know more about this new player with the black energy, we stay focused on the big picture. That means winning the war, not just one battle. We have three hubs that Lantern can see. The report Spectral saw outlines three as well. There may be more, but right now we focus on the ones we know about. Disrupt their ability to coordinate. Even the playing field.”
Three floating aqua-blue holograms of the locations burned to life in front of them. Ward looked confused. “Why not use Freedom Rise for this? Why did they spread them out?”
“Unclear. Maybe they thought we’d never find them,” said Revolution.
Lantern changed the scans, and bright orange radiance replaced the aqua blue they had seen before. “A lot of energy coming off these things, too,” he said.
Sophia leaned back from her pilot’s seat. “That’s probably a power source.”
Lantern nodded in agreement.
Ward kept staring at the spread-out locations. All across the country. It felt wrong to him. “Anybody else think they look like traps?”
Revolution turned toward Lantern.
“They read clean,” Lantern said to the boss.
Revolution kept his eyes locked on Lantern for an uncomfortably long moment and then turned back toward the scans. “They’re not traps. They’re booby-trapped, but they’re not traps.”
“There’s a difference?” Drayger asked.
“Big comfort, Rev. When this is all over don’t go into motivational speaking, m’kay?” Ward quipped.
Revolution pointed at the scans. “Lantern’s going to send you the coordinates. I want Ward and Stealth to hit target number one. Helius and Ben, you’ve got target two. Lantern and I will take out the third one. If you run into trouble, let local traffic know on the coms. They’ll relay it to Boston.” Revolution peered over at Scarlett and Spectral sitting alone at the end of the cargo bay. “And maybe we can send reinforcements to help.” Spectral could teleport anywhere in seconds, after all. He peered back at this team. “We don’t know exactly what we’re going to face, but you can bet these things will be defended. Booby traps, drones, or Guards, we go in ready to fight. The good news is they have no idea we’re coming.”
Ward nodded at Drayger with a wry grin. “That’s exactly what he said at Freedom Rise,” he said, slapping Drayger on the shoulder.
The young man frowned back with a dark gaze.
“I’m just busting your balls,” Ward reassured. “Probably.”
Revolution peered down at Ward. “We’ll double-check our data when we get to Boston. We’ve got a few days to prepare, while Helius charges her suit. Then we go on offense.”
Revolution didn’t want a repeat of Freedom Rise either. Kendrick Ray had been getting the best of Lantern recently, but Diego Alvarez was the world’s top Locator. And Lantern had spent the entire break at Norristown honing his scans, upgrading his equipment. He’d successfully shielded them on their approach to Philly when the Council had every detector at their disposal looking for them, anticipating their attack. He had seen the Council coming far enough in advance to get everyone out of Norristown safely. It all meant one thing: Lantern was back on his game. Revolution could feel it.
It seemed like a lifetime before the Boston HQ glided into view. Boston’s skyline had been the first welcome sight, but now the big white roof of the HQ shone like a beacon. Its large retractable doors slid open, and Sophia lowered the Stealthhawk-2 carefully down into the expansive hangar bay. She heard the roof slide shut above them as she unhooked out of her seatbelts. It was the first time she’d been back to the original HQ since Fiona Fletcher had destroyed it months ago.
They were greeted with a hero’s welcome. Sophia was sure the entire building was there to greet them. People spilled into the hangar. They filled it in a matter of minutes. Boston might have been the most heavily guarded HQ in the Resistance, but with HQs falling all across the country, the arrival of the Suns was warmly welcomed.
So, it was with some surprise that one voice bellowed above the din of the crowd. A female voice with the unmistakable brogue of Queens, Brooklyn, or maybe the Bronx. Definitely New York.
Working-class New York.
“Bennie! Where is my Bennie?” the voice shouted. And soon enough Sophia saw what she could only describe as a “blonde biker chick” slicing through the crowd like a speedboat through the chop. She was a bombshell to be certain, but in that New York working-class way—big hair, big makeup, big boobs, big tattoos. And leather—lots of leather. She was surrounded by a group of women who looked just like her but who were definitely under her thumb.
Sophia found her utterly obnoxious and disliked her immediately. An East Coast Rachel. Great, Sophia mused. Sometimes she yearned for Northern California.
But that gut reaction melted away instantly when she saw what the woman did next. Her eyes locked on Drayger. And when she shouted his name again it was with the tortured rasp of a breaking heart.
“Bennie! Bennie! What did they do to you, baby?” Tears streamed down her face in rivers of heavy mascara. The woman didn’t care who saw or how big a scene she was making.
Drayger was limping out of the Sikorsky with a degree of difficulty—stiff after the long ride. The metal appendage gleamed through the split-open pant leg he still wore to give him easy access to its mechanics, just in case. Her sorrowful bellow quieted the gathered crowd, and Sophia heard Drayger sob the name “Paris” as the two embraced.
This was Paris Starr-Drayger, his wife.
Sophia had started to wonder if she was actually real. This was the first time his wife had seen him since he’d lost his leg. She knew the couple had talked occasionally over the last three months, but only when Lantern would allow it, and that wasn’t often. The entire crowded, massive
hangar froze and watched the couple embrace. The room erupted in applause.
Some even wept.
Paris led Drayger away, and the crowd let them through, many patting Drayger on the shoulder. He was the hero of Philly, and everyone knew it.
As for the rest of the Suns, they were swamped by friends, colleagues, and others who just wanted to be in their presence. Willard, Leslie’s young, lanky assistant, came bounding up to them with a smile as wide as the Charles River.
“Oh man, do I have some toys to show you all!” he proclaimed.
Rachel shot Ward a look that said she was once again thinking dirty thoughts.
“Dr. Ward and Dr. Linh, we’ve put servos into both your suits! Dr. Ward, your bug suit—I mean your flight suit—is made of titanium now.”
“Wow,” Ward said.
“I know, right? And, Dr. Linh, we installed the fusion shield like you wanted, and we’ve laced the suit with titanium, so it’s still as flexible as you like but a hundred times tougher.”
“Thank you, Willard,” Sophia said simply.
“Rev, you too! Better absorption unit, ready to install!”
Revolution nodded. “You never let us down, do you, son?”
Willard let out a huge sigh. “I’m just really glad you all are back.”
He didn’t seem to be the only one with that sentiment. The facility’s entire staff appeared to think they had been liberated. As if being close to the Suns of Liberty could spare them from Tarleton’s wrath.
Sophia wished that was true.
BALTIMORE HQ
COR TEMPORARY DEBATE CHAMBER
Leslie could not believe her ears.
“Not only has the lieutenant commander failed to command, but he and Chief Commander Rocco failed to evade the enemy, failed to provide adequate protection for their troops, and most recently, he risked exposing this very body and the location of one of our most important headquarters for personal glory! Not only is this man not fit to lead our Minutemen, he is not even fit to be one!” Rosalie Delford shouted, rising to her feet on the last phrase.