The Suns of Liberty (Book 3): Republic
Page 33
The Photuris slashed at her with its arms once again molded into spears, slicing her, and glowing chartreuse blood spewed out of her midriff.
Nothing was working. The bitch-robot was just as powerful in the water as she was at high altitude or on dry land.
Fiona had nothing.
So she ran.
Teleporting anywhere her mind could focus on, trying to stay a step ahead of the Photuris, who flew after her: the Eifel Tower, the Great Wall of China, across the plains of Africa.
Hoping the act of teleporting itself would prove too taxing for the machine, she blinked again and found herself zooming over the spear point of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.
That’s when the Photuris caught her, reaching out, grasping her ankle as they flew over the massive steel spire. Fiona plummeted, the pain arcing through her as she slid across the steel and glass structure. Windows exploded beneath her as she descended.
Her vision ruptured in blackness as she realized the Photuris had, at long last, been able to lock her into its sights and blast her with its powerful energy beams.
She was losing consciousness, falling toward the street from the top of the world’s tallest man-made structure. Darkness closed in. A final thought crossed her mind.
The Photuris was going to kill her.
She opened her eyes only to see the top of a massive iceberg.
She had thought of Antarctica. She and the trailing Photuris smashed into the rock and ice, disappearing into the world of white.
Great rumbles shook the ice around them, and the entire iceberg cracked away from them, leaving them lying prone on the remaining ice sheet.
And then an earthquake rumbled. It was more powerful than anything Fiona could remember from her time in California. The Photuris rose to its feet, but the robot was distracted. It peered above them only to see—
An entire glacier wall cracking at its base, tumbling toward them. The thing seemed to reach into the sky and touch the sun, it was so tall.
Like a continent falling from the clouds, it broke free and hurtled toward the two of them, its massive shadow blocking out all light.
Fiona had only one move left.
The move she did not want to make. The move that had nearly killed her before. But she was out of options. Nothing else had worked.
The massive glacier raced toward the two of them at breathtaking speed.
She closed her eyes and shot out into space, teleporting at the speed of light.
A trip that would take eight minutes.
Eternal darkness surrounded her for those eight long minutes. The world dissolved. Stars stretched and elongated into points of light that circled around her until, finally, she stopped.
In front of her she could see nothing but the massive, boiling, exploding surface of the sun. Its power consumed her.
Just as the Photuris stabbed its spear-point arms into her back.
This time Fiona drew in as much power as she could from the sun and flew toward it, carrying the Photuris with her.
For the first time, she felt the Photuris give a bit. She was able to break free. Fiona spun toward the robot and repeated the process of soaking in the sun’s power and blasted two energy beams, one from each hand, into the heart of the Photuris.
The robot quaked from the blow, but it absorbed the energy just the same. In fact, it seemed to be strengthened, energized by it. Still, it seemed Fiona’s only way of keeping the machine at bay.
She fired again.
And again.
And again.
She knew the machine’s pattern. Its weakness—seemingly its only weakness—was that the act of absorption, while giving it more power, also used power. So much so, at times it had to recharge, and in those moments it dropped its black energy skin and exposed the metal beneath it.
The metal was vulnerable.
The blasts kept the Photuris from reaching her, but with each one, she could sense the machine growing in strength.
At the same time, the sun’s power was starting to make her swoon. She felt drunk on it. Like it might consume her consciousness in its heat. If Fiona was like a battery, the sun simply had too much juice.
Her mind swam.
The distraction was just enough.
The Photuris burst forward, stabbing its arms into Fiona once again, and it used all the stored-up power Fiona had lent it in the last few moments to pull, with intense power, Fiona’s own Fire Fly energy from within her. Just like in Boston, in Revolution’s living quarters, the robot was sucking her life essence away like a vampire.
The machine trembled from the transfer.
Maybe that meant the process was too much for it. If Fiona’s body did work like a solar battery, sucking in power from the sun itself, maybe she could overwhelm the Photuris, causing it to drop its defenses—even if for only a second—and destroy it.
Assuming she could survive the sun long enough.
It was worth a try.
She teleported them toward the sun. Flipping, hurtling, out of control, the duo, connected by the spear-arms of the robot, zoomed toward the raging surface.
Locked in the mortal dance of two titans.
CHAPTER 50
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE POTOMAC RIVER
The three flyers zoomed across the sky, side by side.
Orange rocket flame trailed behind Reynolds, invisible ripples of air whirled after Ward, and Spectral thrust forward using the expulsion of the Earth’s magnetic field. The Potomac River cut the land beneath them as they followed it to the Capitol. Off behind them, on the horizon, was the massive Caracara carrying the rest of the Suns and the best-trained Minutemen they could find.
Ward swallowed as he peered up ahead and saw the majestic dome of the Capitol Building, lit up against the black, rising into view in the night sky. “Local Traffic, we are a go,” he said into his com.
Somewhere below, he knew legions of Minutemen were marching to his call, flooding the streets and alleyways of the capitol. Somewhere upwards of five hundred waited in the shadows, ready to strike. Volunteers from New York, Baltimore, Philly, and Washington itself.
Another two thousand, less well trained but just as willing, were on standby if needed.
Surrounding the Capital Building, Council Guard, two hundred strong, were waiting for them. Tanks, a dozen of them, their gun turrets pointed at the sky, were on hand as well. Airborne drones patrolled the airways. Soon, they would detect the three flyers and attack. Was Kendrick Ray tracking them on his scope as well, or had Lantern shielded them from view as was planned?
BOOM!
The exploding shell that flashed in front of their faces answered that.
“Incoming!” Reynolds yelled. Like they needed to be told.
Ward arced straight up, and Reynolds and the android peeled off, banking so hard they spun on their sides.
Instantly, the mass of protestors— well over a thousand—the Revolution had been so concerned for scattered.
Orange tracers lit up the night, all rising from the top of Capitol Hill as the Guards holding the building let loose with their M16s.
And then Spectral was gone.
Streaking forward, just a red and green blur. Tracers just passed through him harmlessly. He fired his optic beams at the tank that had tried to kill them, and in seconds the tank burst into smoke and sparks, its occupants leaping from its top hatch.
Ward dove past the android and opened fire on the fleeing troops.
The targeting system gleamed to life in his HUD, and the points of vulnerability all glowed red on each of the fleeing Council Guard’s uniforms: soft spots in the joints, a tiny opening around the neck area where the helmet seams ended.
The neck was too risky. Too many vital areas there. Ward aimed for the soft spots at the joints, and in a matter of seconds the tank crew were dow
n. Temporarily paralyzed.
“Let’s take out these tanks,” Ward said.
“I’ve got your six,” Reynolds replied, dropping in behind him and firing low-powered plasma blasts to draw the tanks’ fire. Spectral did the same.
Ward aimed close and fired fast. The tank crews below had no way to track what he was going to send at them. Three darts per tank shot out of his wrist turrets—the darts were far too small to even see on their radar screens. Their titanium tips stabbed into the vehicles and sent their disabling signals across their steel skins. Three tanks powered down. Useless.
Eight more to go.
Ward, Spectral, and Reynolds traced back up into the sky.
The three united up above. Too high for the M16s.
“Look!” Ward said, and they all turned to the west to see the massive Caracara approaching. It rattled over the Tidal Basin and hovered for a second before dropping into the large empty field between the Washington Monument and the World War II Memorial. The aircraft was so large it took up most of the green space.
“We got tactical, too!” Reynolds said, pointing below them. Ward could see the five hundred Minutemen flooding in from the side streets, opening fire. “Let’s give ‘em some air support!”
The trio dove back down. Waging war like dive bombers of old.
Revolution exited the chopper, his cape billowing behind him, and scoped in with his telescopic visors to the National Mall and Capitol Building. Council Guard troops were advancing toward the front line of Minutemen, automatic rifles drawn and aimed. The Caracara was too big to miss. They’d be targeting his group soon enough.
“Listen up!” Revolution barked over his com. He peered around at this strike force he’d assembled. Fifty Minutemen had accompanied them on the flight and were now surrounding him, awaiting his word. “You have your assignments, stick to them. The front line is in. Air is active. More reinforcements are coming. Stay alive and stay free! Move out!”
He placed a heavy hand on Lantern’s shoulder just as the shorter leather-jacketed man was turning to leave. “Lady Rage is the key to this. Keep her shielded for as long as you can.”
Lantern nodded, and he and Scarlett sprinted behind a group of thirty Minutemen, who broke off to the left where five of the eight remaining tanks were parked.
“Heavy weaponry, Rage,” Revolution yelled over to Scarlett—who nodded her head and began to sprint for the line of tanks that was now turning and rolling down the Mall toward them.
Revolution sprinted ahead, passing the Minutemen as he ran. Tracers lit up the night as the tanks fired into the air, trying to take out the flyers. Glancing to his right, he saw a young man he had noticed earlier on the helo. He couldn’t have been a day over fifteen. “Son, stay low and stay behind tree cover as best you can.”
The young man grinned widely but didn’t speak, and Revolution slowed his pace, running side by side with him for a moment until he felt the boy’s confidence surge.
They charged under the ghostly lit visage of the Washington Monument that lanced into the night sky above them—
Just as a stray shell from one of the tanks slammed into the giant obelisk.
The shot hit the structure near the narrow top of the peak, no doubt aimed at one of the three flyers, and the explosion ripped clean through it. The top tumbled from the foundation and sped for the ground.
Revolution glared up just in time to see the explosion and the great marble projectile heading toward them.
“Look out!” Revolution yelled and tackled the young man and two other Minutemen who were sprinting next to the youngster, shoving them out of the way just as a city bus-sized chunk of white marble crashed into the ground where they had been. The four of them skidded across the grass.
Revolution wiped the mud from his visors. “Scarlett, take out those tanks!”
Scarlett jogged behind her contingent of Minutemen, whose entire job was to give her cover. She raised her arms and concentrated on the first tank she could see. She kept her legs pumping, but her efforts were slowing her down nonetheless. She let the Minutemen charge on ahead of her. Lantern had drawn his handgun and stayed beside her. She was no hand-to-hand fighter. At best, she would disable as many weapons as she could. At worst, she would use her neurotoxin effect to disable, but hopefully not kill, the Council Guard that got close to her. She knew the danger. The more she used that power, the greater the urge to kill would become.
That urge had overwhelmed her before...
Scarlett peered ahead as they ran and saw the Council Guard closing in—the orange tracer fire marking their positions. She remembered Revolution saying that from the Capitol, the Mall was crossed by Third, Fourth, Seventh, and Fourteenth Streets. Once the Guardsmen reached Seventh Street they would be in range of the landing site.
The tanks began to spread out, trying to counter her abilities, making it impossible for her to target more than one at a time. Fortunately, as she concentrated, she could tell they would not be too much of a challenge.
The first tank sputtered to a stop. Then a second, and a third. Five more left. It would be slow going, but soon she would have them all.
A series of loud pops made Scarlett flinch just before a line of tracer fire stitched the ground right in front of her and Lantern. More tracers lanced into the group of surging Minutemen, but they were not so lucky. She saw and heard the bodies fall.
She turned from the direction of the tracers and concentrated. Like a snake winding its way through a pile of straw, she found her mouse—the M16 assault rifles the Guard were using. Taking out as many as she could, she disabled them one by one. Soon the tracers ceased...
...just in time for her to hear the cannon-like sound of a tank firing its 30-mm laser-guided shells. She felt the concussion in her chest. The comet-like tracer of the shell zoomed over their heads and landed in the middle of the troops rushing behind the Revolution. She could see bodies tossed into the air and a mushroom cloud erupt at the point of impact.
The explosion erupted in the center of the formation. The dark of night concealed the worst of it, but Revolution knew that the debris he heard whistling through the trees on the Mall wasn’t just earth and rock.
Minutemen were jolted to the ground all around him from the force of the blast. He helped as many up as he could. “They can’t see us. Lantern has us shielded. It was just a lucky shot,” he assured them—and charged ahead into the chaos.
The words sunk in. Having the leader of the whole damn movement pick you up, tell you to get your ass moving, and then jump into the bedlam ahead of you could have that effect.
Now, they all moved as one.
Revolution sprinted forward. His speed increasing in his visor. Off to the sides he saw the hordes of Minutemen spilling into the Mall, weapons ready, but not yet firing, per his orders.
He neared his top speed of sixty-five MPH and slammed into the first line of advancing Guards. He hit them like a speeding tank, slicing through with ease.
Above, the three flyers dove in behind him, firing into the Guard on either side of him, clearing and widening his path. Keeping the Council Guard focused on the Suns for as long as possible, not the Minutemen.
Revolution cleared the long green space of the Mall.
“Where the hell are the drones? What are they waiting for?” Reynolds shouted over the com.
It was a good question. “Keep your eyes peeled. Until they show, keep fire aimed on cover,” Revolution said. “I’m going in!” Revolution charged over Third Street, splashing through the Capitol Reflecting Pool. The crest of Capitol Hill loomed ahead, the ghostly grandeur of the building framed above him in the slowly brightening sky.
Scarlett turned back to the tanks, an inferno in her eyes. She raised her right arm and aimed it at the tanks. Neurons fired across the span of her brain and channeled into the circuits of her unique Neural Transmitter. An invisible beam of energy shot out from behind her tiara and entered yet another tank. She pointed at one after the othe
r, and one by one, they all fell silent.
The Minutemen troops roared their approval and surged forward, overwhelming the Guardsmen.
After that, it took only seconds and the raid was over.
The superior numbers of the Minutemen overpowered the Council Guard troops, and the Suns outgunned them by air and technologically. The last few Guards, keeping watch on the steps of the Capitol, simply laid down their weapons and raised their hands.
Lantern and Scarlett made their way over to Revolution as the three flyers landed beside him on the steps of the Capitol.
“Stealth, we’re good out here. What’s your status in there?”
Rachel raised her pistol—a modified Beretta 3032 Tomcat. The fit was just right in her palm. She aimed it at the back of the three Council Guardsmen. They were busy working on getting through the keypad titanium-reinforced lock of a massive stone door. She stepped out from the curve in the long dark tunnel she had traversed, took closer aim, and without remorse or reflection, fired point blank into all three of them.
They fell.
Paralyzed.
Sticking out of their backs were darts, each filled with Ward’s paralysis serum. That was the Beretta’s modification. The gun’s traditional tip-up barrel had been expanded to fit twenty-one of the small darts via a special cartridge Leslie’s team had come up with. Leslie herself was just on the other side of this massive door, she knew. So was the president and all the members of Congress. She scanned the door with the RDSD. This was one serious barricade. She doubted if even Revolution could bust through it.
Just then, Rev’s voice clipped across her com. “Stealth, we’re good out here. What’s your status in there?”
“Status is clear,” Rachel replied. “Just put the last of these fuckers to sleep.” Of course, they weren’t really asleep, and she knew it. Being invisible, Rachel had roamed the Capitol Building with impunity, picking off the isolated Council Guardsmen holding the location. They were all waiting for these last three idiots in the tunnel to get through the lock.