Without a word, both specialists brought their weapons to the shoulder and swept the tunnel for signs of anything suspicious. Finding none, they relaxed and made their way toward the entrance to the Archive.
Mac had only taken a few steps when he hesitated. What was that?
Backtracking, he paused before walking forward once more. There it is again.
He cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Sam. Check out this side of the corridor, will you? Tell me what you think.”
Looking puzzled, Sam crossed the passageway and did as he was asked.
Mac watched closely as his colleague strolled toward him. Sam frowned, glanced at Mac, and then stopped. After retracing his steps, he started forward once more, waving his hand in front of him.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” Mac stated.
“There’s a marked difference in temperature around this one spot,” Sam replied, “and I can’t decide where it’s coming from.”
“Me neither. There are no discernible drafts or other openings nearby. So what . . . ?”
“Cold pooling, perhaps? We’re a considerable distance underground, and some places do act as a sponge to the chill. I’ve encountered this before.”
“So have I.” Mac checked his wrist monitor. “But not by this much. It’s nearly ten degrees cooler.”
“Fahrenheit?”
“No, that’s just it. I’m talking Celsius.” Mac thought for a moment. “Switch to enhanced optics and scoot back along the gallery for a hundred yards or so. Look for any other places displaying such a discrepancy. Contact the guys, too. Ask them to check anywhere they think is vulnerable to surprise attack. I’m suspicious enough as it is. If we encounter this phenomenon again, it’ll prove something’s up.”
“What about Andy and Bob Neville? They’re on a static post above the First Magister’s marshaling yard covering the ships.”
“They can remain in situ. But get them to revert to thermal imaging. If their immediate area is clear, they can target further afield and get both Stu and Fonzy or Mark and Sean to take a closer look at anything out of the ordinary.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
As Sam moved away, Mac stepped toward the hidden doors. Masked sensors activated. As the entrance revealed itself, a sentinel materialized in the air in front of him. “Good day, Lieutenant McDonald. How may I be of service?”
“Just completing my rounds, custodian. How’s Commander Cameron?”
“He is busy within. The cipher is almost complete and will be initialized within the hour. Shall I announce you?”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I don’t want to disturb him. I was on security rounds and—” Mac was distracted by the secondary machine gun post within the interior corridor. “Why is that sentry post not activating?”
“Your presence has now been logged, Lieutenant. The system has been notified of your visit and will allow you unrestricted access.”
“That’s very kind, but I want full ultraviolet security protocols reestablished immediately. Command Identification: McDonald. Alpha. Three. Seven. Two. Tango. Confirm?”
“McDonald. Alpha. Three. Seven. Two. Tango, confirmed, Lieutenant. Ultraviolet response restored.”
No sooner had the drone finished speaking than the lone emplacement came alive. Even though he stood on the threshold, Mac was forced to remain still while the familiar network of sensors completed their scans.
That’s more like it.
“Thank you, sentinel. Better to be safe than sorry.”
I do not want anything hitting the fan this close to the exodus.
*
Zuul, Grand Vizage and Vocalator of the Unium, stepped forward. Who stands with Imperator Vetis? he boomed.
Ahoo! roared the minds of the gathered host.
And who will fight with our mighty liege?
Ahooooo! The intensity of the reply thundered into the ether, setting the myriad prisms bordering the Hall of Eclectic Spheres ablaze in a paroxysm of light and glory. Primal hunger, strangled for an age, raged against enlightened restraint. Slowly but surely, each of the magnified entities occupying the raised dais allowed their self-control to crumble. Within moments, a deep-seated core of slavering rage dominated the Hall.
The hour of release is nigh, Zuul announced. Revenge against those who caused our suffering is at hand. Soon, our victory will saturate this world in ruptured corpses.
Caught in the wake, the massed ranks of the Trianium Tier responded. Flexing and surging with maniacal glee, they expressed their frustration with a surge of emotion so pure, so raw, that their umbilical membranes almost combusted with unrestrained fury.
Stand ready! The overwhelming presence of Angule cut into the thoughts of his faction, bringing them to heel.
Seeing he had refocused their attention, he continued: Take your places in the line. Our first jump will take us to the staging post above the capital. Once there, close on me. Vetis thinks we will be transported en masse into the various insertion points about the city. I have ensured that will not happen. As soon as we phase, adopt this choral resonance. His mind displayed an incredibly complex encryption. Conjoined, our cabal will manifest within a structure that is seldom used. From there we will redeploy. Be alert, for as soon as we arrive I will attempt to mesh with the human who seems sensitive to my presence.
He paused to ensure each of them was listening attentively to his instructions. Saffir. You are with Limun. Buer, take N’Omicron. Caym? Vual will pair with you. Due to their inexperience, Mamone’sh and Orias will stay with Raum and myself as we attempt communication. Remember, shield yourselves heavily and stay hidden as much as you can. If and when you locate any children of the third tier who have shown themselves sensitive to our aspirations, draw them to you. But do not allow them to harm any human.
They moved forward as the master portal was activated.
Most of all, do not worry. For them, battle will be joined instantly and we will not be missed until it’s too late.
*
“Do you see what I mean?” Flavius Velerianus demanded. “There’s not a single Horde Master among them. The tricky bastards ambushed my patrol and would have wiped us out if it weren’t for divine providence. And now they’ve turned shy again? I don’t think so. They’re up to something.”
Antonius gazed down into the confusing blaze of color below. “So where do you think they are? Because I must confess, I can’t make head nor tale of what I’m looking at. It’d be hard to spot any form of crown amongst that lot.”
“Oh, you’d know it if you saw one,” Flavius spat, shivering at the memory. “It’s like facing a wall of crimson and purple hatred wreathed in scarlet and blue flames.”
A dull flash from out in the Sengennon Strait caught his eye.
Hello?
Flavius studied the distant hillside. To himself, he murmured, “So that’s where you’ve been hiding? But how many, I wonder?”
The apparition flared again, brighter this time, blurring his sight with a stark afterimage.
Whatever’s taking place behind that glittering anomaly will not be good for the citizens left within this city. I’d stake my liver on it.
Over his shoulder, he called, “Antonius? You know how to use those radio things better than I do. Get on it and find Tiberius Tacitus for me. Tell him I’d like his counsel. If he has time before his shuttle leaves, ask him to come to this location.”
As an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and get me Marcus and Vice Commander Amine, too. Better to share my suspicions now than not have the chance.”
Using binoculars this time, he searched the irregularity for signs of any clues.
You’ll not take me by surprise again.
*
“As long as you realize there’s only one shuttle-run left,” Mohammed stressed, “then it’s up to you! I won’t be here to hold your hand. We’re about to transfer Command-and-Control to the Arch of Winter. Once there, I’m going to initiate the final withdrawal protocol and
close the rest of the system down. If you miss those ships, you’ll have to wait your turn at the emergency teleport pad along with the rest of the soldiers currently manning the defenses.”
“That’ll be okay,” Saul replied. “Calen and I are ready to insert the cipher into the Architect’s neural net, and then we want to run a final diagnostic to ensure it’s taken.”
“How long will that take?”
“About forty minutes.”
Too long. “You are aware we’re getting reports that the Horde is up to something? There are temperature fluctuations at various points all over the city. We don’t need three guesses to know what that means. Whatever they’re planning, it won’t be good, so we need to be away from here before it starts. And Saul, once we begin the final phase, there won’t be enough people to spare to come and get you if you run into trouble.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for appropriate chaperones. Mac and his team have offered to escort me to the surface, and then up to the staging area. I’m sure they’re more than capable of seeing me to safety.”
“Your choice. See you on the other side.”
Mohammed cut the link and grunted in frustration. If he gets caught with his pants down, he’ll have to fight his way along a four hundred yard long corridor, and over fifty flights of stairs before he even gets to ground level.
He was struck by a sudden idea. I wonder if we could rig the Archive transporter buffers with enough juice for a one-way trip to the main pad? Of course, they’d have to activate it manually. But . . .
He called across the room. “Serena? Patch me through to the Arch of Winter.”
After a few moments’ delay, Angela Brogan’s profile filled the view screen.
“Captain,” Mohammed said in greeting. “Is everything prepared to get underway?”
“Yes, Vice Commander. All systems are five-by-five, and we’re just waiting for all you stragglers down there to get your asses moving before beginning our bombing run.”
“Excellent. Please advise Serovai we’ll be transferring command codes to her matrix within the next thirty seconds.”
“Roger that.”
“I’ll be up myself in a few minutes, via teleport pad. Could I ask that you notify Ephraim to meet me in the main transporter room on my arrival? I know he’s busy, so apologize on my behalf, but there’s something I’d like to get his opinion on. If he fusses too much, tell him it pertains to Commander Cameron’s safety. That should shut him up.”
Angela’s face broke into a wide grin. “Will do. We look forward to seeing you soon.”
The screen went blank.
Right, let’s get this show on the road.
Mohammed addressed the room. “People. The time has come. Close down your workstations now, and immediately make your way to your disembarkation points. If for any reason you miss your scheduled departure, stay calm and get yourselves to the First Magister’s courtyard. The emergency pad will remain active and protected by armed guards until every last one of us is out. Serena? Once you have control, transmit our protocols to Serovai and trigger the virus. I want every single system in this place fried beyond repair. Understood?”
“I’m on it, Sir.”
Nodding, he mumbled, “See you all topside.”
Making his way from the command center, Mohammed checked through the list of those combatants who would remain at their posts until the last minute.
Right . . . Marcus and his fourth cohort are manning the only real weak link. From what he tells me, a structured retreat has been prepared through the arc, and they should have no problem reaching the RV point. Flavius has the wall. He’s already moving his men, and has kept the freshest soldiers back till last. Good strategy. We have roving patrols of Native American braves and Iceni clansmen lining the main escape routes. And Mac has some of his boys covering the actual departure yard itself.
Mohammed breathed a sigh of relief.
Joining the queue of personnel waiting to beam up to the ship, he savored the view from the quad and continued skipping through his directory, looking for anything that might present a loose end.
So, that only leaves Saul and Ayria. Saul’s covered. If he isn’t safe with Mac’s guys, he won’t be with anyone.
He checked Ayria’s status. The log shows her as leading a team to the EMS center to retrieve the last of the medical supplies. Fair one.
His turn came to step onto the transporter pad.
Then she’s taking a bunch of orderlies with her to collect Houston from the psych ward. Now that is a wise decision. He freaks out enough as it is when he just looks at the shuttles, so leaving him until last will cut the stress on everyone else.
Mohammed relaxed as the familiar tingle of the patter buffers began disassembling his molecules. He opened his eyes for one last look at the place that had been his home for the last three years.
A blinding flash from the direction of the southeastern perimeter caused him to throw up his arms and avert his eyes.
What the hell was that?
*
“And you say there isn’t a single Controller among them?” Marcus queried. “Not a single one?”
“No, Sir,” Tiberius Tacitus replied. “That’s why he sought my advice and asked me to bring this to you. With so much happening, Flavius didn’t want to go jumping to conclusions. The final straw was when his radio transmissions started being affected by the flashes from up on the Sengennon Hillside. He said—”
“Marcus? Tiberius?” Amelius Crispus interrupted. “My apologies for butting in, but something appe—”
A piercing white light cut him dead.
To the officers gathered on the command podium, it appeared as if a miniature sun had crested a false horizon that had somehow been placed within the city confines. Forced to avert their eyes, each of them spun away, dropped to one knee, and swept their cloaks across their faces.
“Claudius,” Marcus barked to the cornicen, “we are under attack. Quickly, sound the alert!”
Turning to the signifier, he commanded, “Livius, signal the wall and inner —”
No sooner had the horn begun to blare than it was drowned out by a paroxysm of fury. Everyone was swatted from the dais like leaves in a gale.
The world spun. When it stopped, Marcus was on his back in the dirt. Winded, he lay where he fell, trying to regain his breath. A roar like an echo of the detonation continued building in the background. That’s not the sound of an explosion. Instinct kicked in. Struggling to his feet, he staggered back to the platform, climbed the steps, and surveyed the scene before him.
The area where the utility buildings had once stood no longer existed. The structure had been replaced by twisted shells of smoking debris and rubble, through which arcs of scintillating light now coiled in expanding ribbons. A huge gray void hung at the exact center of the abnormality. Suspended in the air like the maw of some great beast, it was terrifying to behold. From that incongruity swept an overwhelming wave of ferocity.
A seasoned veteran of many campaigns, Marcus didn’t let the horror of what he now witnessed rob him of the ability to act. “Amelius. Tiberius. To me!”
Marcus scanned the main body of the arc. Excellent! Most of the inner and outer positions remain operational. His gaze flicked to the series of mounds and trenches that had been incorporated into its design. Fortunately for us, they were well built and properly positioned, and appear to have deflected much of the shockwave into the air.
The only segment to suffer minor damage was the central avenue, upon which the command post had been erected. Disregarding the repeated outbursts now erupting along the edge of the defensive line, Marcus stooped to retrieve the signifier’s flag. Lifting it high, he issued vital instructions.
Moments later, the arms of the first line of catapults began to swing. Next to them, their accompanying ballistae rocked slightly as they too unleashed their payloads.
The front of the moiling wave of heat and light flared. Scores of ogres were co
nsumed by the opening fusillade, only to be replaced by hundreds more. Within seconds, thousands were throwing themselves against the cunningly arranged emplacements.
The soldiers held their ground. Oh, well done. Well done indeed. Marcus’s chest swelled with pride.
Amelius and Tiberius came scampering up the stairs, with Claudius and Livius close behind.
Marcus took a final look around, and came to a decision. “Tiberius. A cohort without their leader is like a lion without its fangs. Stunted. Vulnerable. Your men have already left for the Arch of Winter. Please be so kind as to follow them.” Raising his hand to cut off his fellow officer’s protestations, he added, “I appreciate you want to stay. We all do. You are a centurion of the Ninth, after all. But you can serve us better by ensuring our people continue to have the best leadership they could possibly wish for . . . wherever they may be. Your final act here, then, is this. On the way to the transporter pad, notify the catapult captains to begin heating the sand and iron. I have a feeling we will need that fire shortly.”
Tiberius struggled to contain himself. Discipline won the day. Without a further word, he threw Marcus a salute, nodded to his fellow legionnaires, and left the platform.
Turning to Amelius, Marcus continued, “As I mentioned, a cohort without their leader is like a lion without its fangs. Show me how the Fourth can roar. And bite!”
“What about you, Sir?” Amelius spluttered, stunned his Praefectus was allowing him to take command of the field. “Do you not wish to lead yourself?”
“Too many cooks spoil the broth, my friend,” Marcus replied wryly, “and to be honest, your men prepared these defenses. You have an intimacy with them that I lack. I’m going to make a nuisance of myself up at the battlements.” Over his shoulder, he called, “Make me proud.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Transition
“Are you sure about that?” Mac gasped. “The wall has been breached?”
The IX Page 41